Page 30 of Destined To Fall

He has a point. I glance down at my casual white pants and the flouncy blue blouse I threw on before rushing out the door.“I’m not exactly dressed for running. Neither are you, for that matter.”

I take another second to appreciate the fine specimen in front of me. The light gray sweater and dark blue chinos he’s wearing make it look as if he’s stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog. It’s a cruel, tempting torture.

“True. Next time, perhaps.”

“Come on.” I nod at the exit, completely dismissing his presumption, and start walking out.

“So, what’s the plan then? Seeing as you ran, now what?”

“We walk.”

He looks down at my shoes, his mouth twitching as he takes in the height of my Jimmys.“In those?”

“I can run in these babies.”

“Good to know, but unnecessary. Unless you changed your mind? I’m sure I have a pair of my sister’s running shoes she left behind one time or another.”

“Your sister’s?”

“Yeah. What size are you? Like a seven?”

“Ah, yeah. Good guess…wait. Jeremy, do you have a foot fetish I should know about?”

He laughs.“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

“How do you not know if you have a foot fetish?”

“I, uh, I guess I’ve never thought about feet. Not sexually, at least.”

“Then I think it’s safe to say you don’t have a foot fetish. Not that there’s anything wrong with having one. Anyway, I’m starving, so….”

He smiles, turning to enter the caféwe just exited when I tug on his arm, pulling him up short. Jesus, that’s firm.“No, no. Not in there.”

“But you picked here to meet.”

“That’s when we were just going for coffee. I’ve upgraded you to bacon—you’re welcome—but it’s better elsewhere. This way,” I singsong and walk off, Jeremy chuckling before he catches up.

“So, what about you?” he asks, keeping pace.

“That’s a loaded question,”I muse.“What about me?”

“Are you, uh, into feet?”

I snort.“No, I’m Switzerland.”

“Switzerland? Is that a…” Jeremy buries his hands in his pockets and shoots a sideways glance at me,“thing?”

I come to an abrupt halt.“What?”

Jeremy stops and twists to look at me, that pink tinge back in his cheeks.

“Wait. You think Switzerland is a fetish?” Oh, god!

I laugh like I haven’t laughed in years. My sides split with the force. I clutch my stomach and fight to get it under control because it’s really not that funny, but as Jeremy stares on, a frown puckering his forehead, his arms crossing to wait me out, it just makes me laugh harder.

“Switzerland, Jeremy. It’s not a”—another wave of laughter overtakes me—”I’m neutral. Like Switzerland. It’s not a fetish.”

I purse my lips tightly, trying and failing to swallow my mirth, my eyes beginning to blur. Jeremy just shakes his head at me and continues walking.

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