Page 15 of Flirtasaurus
Some old dude is staring at me. Like, unabashedly staring. His eyes are glassy, and he’s smiling. He holds a notebook in his left hand and has a pencil floating in the air in his right hand as though he’s about to write something down. But he doesn’t. He just… stares. Creepy.
After whipping my head around to glance behind me, I then look back at the guy. Huh. Maybe he’s not gazing at me after all? He seems to be staring through me. Is it at the kids? Oh God, what if he’s staring at the kids? I am so not equipped for this sort of thing.
But I’m also not one to sit around and just let life happen to me. No, sir. I confront things head-on. So that’s what I do. And sure, I could probably have a million more appropriate responses at the moment, but I can’t think of a single one, so I plaster a big smile on my face and… start waving. Yup, I wave at him like a complete goober. Like someone who just spotted their best friend at the mall. Or an old-timey person saying bon voyage to a ship.
Weird dude waves back, but he seems to move in slow motion as though he’s surrounded by water.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m moving through water too as my wave slows and my smile sours. Wait a damn second. This isn’t “the” guy, is it? This can’t be Alf, can it? Seriously, don’t tell me I spent my elevator debacle getting all hot and bothered by a dude who is old enough to be my grandpa. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! Love is love—like Sasha said—and age ain’t nothing but a numbah, but still.
Gosh, on second thought, look at that smile, though. He’s definitely attractive in a shaggy-haired Christopher Lloyd kind of way. What? Like I’m the only one who had a thing for Dr. Emmett Brown inBack to the Future? I am? Okay, whatever.
That’s enough. I’m figuring out what the deal is with this dude.
I take two steps in his direction when nearly every kid in my session screams with joy. “BUG LADY!!!”
I whip around to see a young woman with curly red hair approaching. She acknowledges the kids with a sweet smile and a salute. “Hey, Critters!” she croons. “I miss you! Holden, buddy, see you again this summer, I hope?”
“Oh, hell to the yeah!” soft-spoken Holden blurts out, shocking the bejeezus out of me.
“Holden!” I reprimand. Sort of. I actually think I may have been cheering him on. This is virtually the first peep I’ve heard out of the kid all morning, and frankly, I was a little worried about him.
“I said hell.” He looks at me with big, misty eyes. “Sorry! I’m just so excited to see Bug Lady that it slipped out.”
“It’s okay, bud. I won’t tell anyone,” I whisper.
Feeling forgiven, I guess, Holden continues, full-voiced this time. “Okay, thanks. No offense, I just like bugs so much more than dinos. Dinosaurs scare the living shit out of me, but my mom is making me be here.”
An incensed Finn chimes in at that. “No way! You have your head up your butt, Holden! Dinos could kick any bug’s ass any day!”
“Alright, alright now! I think I need to draw the line at the S-word and the A-word. Also, no one’s head is up anyone’s butt, Finn. That’s physically impossible.”
“Speaking of butts…” Holden is on a roll. “Did you know the bombardier beetle’s best defense is sticking its head down on the ground, then exploding a pungent spray from its anus that can repel even the most daring of predators?”
Yikes. I’m certain I’m making a frozen stank face of epic proportions.
However, “Bug Lady” gives Holden an enthusiastic fist bump. “I actually did know that, but I hadn’t thought about the bombardier beetle’s exploding anus in a while, so thank you for that reminder, pal!”
Wow. She’s so good with them.
Holden and the rest of the crew return to dino-digging with renewed gusto. I remember the sketchy old guy and turn to confront him.
Huh. He’s gone. Nowhere in sight.
“Whoa. Your face! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, I just… Did you see that older guy a minute ago? Kind of toothy and smiley and, I dunno, slow-motion-y?”
“Uh, nope. Why?”
“Hm. Weird. No reason.”
“Hey, nice eyebrows! They look just like yellow wooly bear caterpillars, but of course with more brown than yellow!”
“Ugh. I got talked into a weird treatment yesterday. Some kind of natural microblading situation without the blades? I dunno. It’s supposed to fade in about a week. The regret set in immediately, believe me.”
“Oh no, it was a compliment! If Ihadto choose, I would say that the yellow wooly bear is my absolute favorite species of caterpillar.”
“Great,” I say. What is up with this woman?
