Sugar McKenzie and August Wakefield couldn't be more different - Sugar, a meticulous, caring, but lonely paramedic and August, a charming former reality star still chasing his dream. But they've both closed themselves off emotionally from others...t...
"You can't get anywhere in life without taking risks."
- Esme Bianco
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Mr. Dalton sent the Release and Contract forms via email, which in turn I gave to Sugar. A normal person would have forwarded the email. A simple button. The one located in the top right corner. The instant gratification seemed ideal. I couldn't let time and space separate the connection that I had with Sugar. A week had come and gone, I tried to keep Sugar updated with the project. I'd received short replies like, okay, alright, sounds good, or worse, k.
I almost threw my smart phone to the wall when I got the last one. No. This wasn't happening. I felt like I was talking to a cement wall. I needed this slither of connection, or at least her acceptance to this project, to grow.
"Why are you here?" Sugar asked, her eyes staring at the computer screen. Her body aligned with the keyboard.
The navy wool sweater warmed my torso. A little too much. Sweat began to form under my armpits and forearm. I prayed that Sugar wouldn't notice. She seemed to take in small details and recall them as if she'd prepared for a pop quiz.
Multiple phone calls orchestrated in the dispatch department. Each ringer played their own melody, higher and lower pitches, some ringers had a different tempo and then sometimes they would sing together. The work environment consisted of crème colored desks that grouped in fours, three inches plastic wall was the most private element to this arrangement.
Luckily Sugar's quad seemed preoccupied in answering the phone calls. Her computer faced the inner corner where all the desks connected. Her back faced me.
"Do I need an excuse to see your beautiful face?" I asked.
Yes, flirt. Like that worked the first time.Idiot.
My natural response was to tease and flirt. With Sugar ... I couldn't determine the correct plan to act on. Sugar snorted. Her fingers typed on the black keyboard. She watched as the letters and words appeared on the screen. Her right leg crossed over top of her left calf.
"Are you really that bored to come see me?" she questioned back, and then added on, "What's the real reason?"
"Why are there no chairs around? Are visitors not welcomed here?" I pointed my finger towards a non-existent wire chair. I twisted and twirled to see if I overlooked one. Then my eyes hovered on Sugar. Her hair frizzed around her ears, the ponytail tight on her scalp.
"Too many questions," Sugar said mostly to herself. Her fingers stopped typing and the wheels on her computer chair squeaked. She glided over to the desk's front where I stood.
She stared at me. Her elbows pressed against the tan wood.
"Tell me what's going on. I don't have time to play smitten kitten. You either say what you want to say or call me later. I have to focus on the task at hand."
