I notice a woman veer away from me on the sidewalk and there is fright in her eyes as she beholds me, lurking there. My height has always made people uneasy, but I’ve always gone out of my way to reassure people that I’m a gentle giant. The look in their eyes always gives it away, the intimidation that hangs there can only ever be banished by a friendly smile, or a hunch of my shoulders and practiced non threatening posture.
This woman is different though. I can see that only social mores keep her from sprinting away from me, and I catch sight of myself in the spotless lobby window.
Accessories to my towering height right now are wild eyes, disheveled clothes and hair cowlicked in every direction. I scare even myself.
I try to grin kindly at her, but she averts her eyes and hustles away, leaving me there on my own, wondering what to do.
I don’t even know how I got here. One moment I was pounding beers on my couch watching The Bachelorette and now I’m here, looking like a frenzied troll on the hunt. I’m only wearing a tank top and some sweats, and I look down at my feet and see they are bare. I lift them up and am slightly shocked to see that they are only moderately dirty. Did I fucking drive here in some fugue state?
I realize my sweats have pockets and quickly begin searching them and my fingers curl around the cool metal of my keys.
Why am I here? I ask myself again, but the voice is silent. Certainly this location has been on my mind all day. Unwelcomingly, the shame washes over me again and I cringe at the memory. I’d sought to drown the voice with booze, and had only succeeded in drowning my common sense and intelligence in front of my entire class of former schoolmates.
“Goddammit,” I growl as I remember the look on Kat and her friend’s faces as I lumbered over. They had feared me, and I hated it. And why wouldn’t they? All 6’5 of me lurching at them aggressively with blank, inebriated eyes. They clearly had felt like I’d held a grudge against them, but I only held a grudge against myself. I had just wanted them to know that, and how sorry I am, and would always be.
I squeezed my eyes shut when I remembered objectifying Kayla and her girlfriend. I try to be better, to rise above this box I’ve been shut in by everyone. Machismo-laden, giant alpha male, but then I get drunk and my baser self surfaces and I feed into it. Three goddesses standing there and that’s how I act?
I search in my other pocket and feel the comforting weight of my phone. I drag it out and look at it curiously. I see that I’d last been looking at Kat's Instagram, and the phone was locked onto her last post, which highlighted her smiling face and flirty pose in what I recognized to be the Bishop Inn lobby. So she’s still in town, and likely sleeping here at the hotel as well.
My god, what a beauty. I stare at her charming face, frozen in time in the photo. Hazel, upturned eyes glimmering brilliantly, and feminine cheeks swept into a fetching and dimpled smile, her sensuous lips curled knowingly. Her hair is rich auburn against her golden skin, and I don’t dare stare down at her body. I’d always had a crush on her, and old habits die hard. Looking at her musters a teenager-level hard on.
Pig, the voice says and I try to shake the insult and the one who delivered it out of my head.
Kat shouldn’t telegraph where she is like this, I think darkly. She has millions of followers, what if a bonafide weirdo stalked her and then knew just where to find her? I shake my head at the irony of my standing here, clearly having done just that.
Did I come here to apologize? I wonder. Did I come here to...hurt her? No, I’d never hurt anyone, much less a woman.
Take her.
“No,” I bark out loud. “No, no, no.”
TAKE HER.
“Fuck you,” I spit out, fiercely shaking my head.
“Are you OK, mate?” I hear a male voice ask.
I turn to see a man looking me up and down, his dark eyes taking me in with guarded concern, and he looks like he’s been there a while, probably watching my sketchy behavior. He’s my age, and probably kills with the ladies. Why does everyone staying at this hotel look like they strolled right out of a primetime soap opera?
“I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth, wishing he’d go away.
“Are you staying here?” he asks, his face quickly registering that the question is unwelcome. “I ask because I saw you in the bar here last night. You had a name tag on, so I assumed you were part of the reunion.”
“Yeah, I was,” I say, trying to soften my tone and hide the fact that I’m having a mental breakdown in front of his very eyes. “You went to school there too?”
“No,” he answers. “But I know another of your classmates. Kat Clary.”
My eyes whip over to him. “Kat? Yeah, I know her. Are you her bodyguard or something?”
“No, does she need one?” he asks, and it’s supposed to sound like a joke, but I know it isn’t.
“No, man,” I shrug. “I’m just out for a walk.”
“Isn’t that your car you pulled up in a few minutes ago?” he asks, pointing behind me, and sure enough, it’s my beat up old truck.
“I don’t see how that’s your business.” I snap, wanting to throw aside my vow not to intimidate with my size, though he looks like he knows how to handle himself.
“I was concerned for you. Do you need help getting home?” he asks, stepping
