Page 35 of Offensive Plays

"What about me?"

"Whose your ideal girl?"

It's hard to say when my ideal girl is sitting right in front of me.

Chapter 8

Libby

"Someone unexpected, I would think," he replies.

"Why do you say that?"

And why do I get the feeling he might be talking about me?

"Ever since I was a kid, my mom had this idea of my perfect woman, and she drilled it into me that that's who I should marry. I mean, just look at Jonah and Lillian; I think that's what she would expect for me, but I don't really care for…predictable girls."

A long answer and still doesn't answer my question.

"Fergie, I asked you your ideal woman...not your mom's."

He stares at me and doesn't look away. My skin prickles at the intensity of his look. But just as he's about to say something a bright flash of lightning outside draws our attention to the window followed by the loud boom of thunder and suddenly, we're plunged in darkness.

"Shit," I say under my breath.

We wait a few seconds, and when there's no sign of the lights coming back on, Fergie stands and turns on the flashlight on his phone. "Do you know where the breaker box is?"

I wrack my brain, trying to remember if Gigi ever showed me that.

She showed me how the laundry works, where her spare blow dryers are kept, and where to find the wine glasses...but the breaker box? No dice.

"Uh..."

"Where's your garage? We can start there."

"Right, ok. This way." He follows me through the darkened hall. The only light coming from the lightening that keeps pulsing outside only to be followed by more loud booms.

It's even darker inside the garage, and I stay close to him. Like if I stay too far behind, someone might snatch me up. He notices.

"Libby, are you afraid of the dark?" He turns his light on me, and I cover my eyes.

"No..." I scoff.

The thunder booms again, and I jump even closer to him.

He chuckles softly as he rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "I've got you, ok? Come, on."

Those words coming from him carry so much weight.

We scan every wall of the four car garage and don't find anything resembling a breaker box.

"So like, how big is this box supposed to be? Are we talking the size of a small animal or like...a fridge?"

He turns back with his brows cinched and lips quirked up, as he finds me looking at the ground.

"Wait...do you think a breaker box is an actual box?"

"Why would they call it a box if it wasn't an actual box?"

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