Day 8 - In the Company of Rivals

Dear Bertha,

I lack the bravery and endurance requisite to face you with my feelings, so I am writing this letter to you in the hopes that you can read it. I remember the first time I saw you. I don't know if I was attracted to you because of your radiant personality, your sunny disposition, or your gravitational pull. All I know is that once I got close to you, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't leave.

And I think back to some of the trials and tribulations in our relationship. Like that time you tried on that thong bikini you said you would look terrible in. I'm truly impressed by the bravery it took to even try it in light of how right you were. And I know it makes you uncomfortable that I sometimes hang out with your ex, but your cousin and I hardly ever discuss you and when we do, it is always positive.

Every day while I am working in the sewage treatment plant, all I can think of is you. When I found that ring I gave to you floating through, I knew it must have been divine intervention that had kept us together so long. When I talk to my friends about you, they all agree, you're "a whole lot of woman." I couldn't have said it better myself.

With what I think is probably love,

Bryant

Okay, okay, wait a sec! No, I haven't gone insane. I just didn't know what to write today so I thought I'd share this thing a friend of mine sent me - "The World's Worst Love Letter". Ha, and I thought mine were bad! They aren't this bad... are they?

Ross laughed out loud to himself, reading the ludicrous note. "No, nowhere near as bad," he reassured the absent writer.

Sometimes you've just got to go after what you want. Go after what you want... His partner's words were still ringing in his head. He'd fallen asleep the previous night determined that he was going to wake up and do just that. Go after what he wanted. He knew what he wanted... he just didn't know quite how to get it.

Today I just want so badly to tell you who I am that I'd make a fool of myself if I tried writing anything serious, so I figure I might as well make you laugh. Some more amusing things I found online:

The Laws Of Love...

1. People to whom you are attracted invariably think you remind them of someone else.

2. The love letter you finally got the courage to send will be delayed in the mail long enough for you to make a fool of yourself in person.

Ha, that's why I don't mail mine!

6. The number of women who are looking for nice guys is considerably lower than the supply of them

7. Nice guys finish last, because they refuse to treat women like shit and become what they despise (ie, assholes)

Both of these are nuts. I don't know who writes these things. I mean, I know a lot of women who are looking for nice guys. They're just really hard to find... and maybe we're just scared to face them. I guess I'm lucky. Half my work is done. I found you.

I found you...

He'd finally accepted that fact that he had found her, that he did want more than friendship from her, that this secret admirer stuff was nothing in comparison to what he was feeling. How to tell her, how to let her know she was the one he cared for after pretending for so long?

He paced restlessly. What to do, how to do it, why had he let things get so far without doing something?

He could tell her. He could just tell her straight out and see how she reacted. He tried to picture himself doing just that and could not for the life of him summon up a vision. He couldn't. Once they were face-to-face, he'd totally lose his words.

He could write... or maybe send her e-mail? Maybe this Secret Admirer chick had a good idea going. But look what the letters had done to her. Here it was, the eighth day, and she didn't seem any more ready to reveal herself than she had on Day 1. Did he want to get himself caught in the same trap?

He just didn't know what to do. And, for once in his life, he couldn't go to his partner for advice.

More laws:

8. Your attraction to someone is directly proportional to their attraction to someone else (If you're interested, they aren't)

9. The attraction of someone else to you is inversely proportional to your attraction to them (If they're interested, you aren't)

Okay. These ones are the ones I'm praying aren't true. I keep telling myself to tell you, to get it out, at least I'd know, at least I wouldn't have to keep wondering. If you didn't feel the same, I could get on with my life...

But I don't want to get on with my life. I want you to love me.

Exactly, he thought to himself. He knew in his mind that it was just fear that was keeping him from confronting her, that the worst that could happen was that she wouldn't feel the same, but the fear was almost overwhelming. Something so huge... he didn't want to risk hearing that no. He wanted... he wanted her to say she felt the same way, that she always had, that this could work. He wanted her to love him.

Sometimes, when he let himself dream, he saw it working. He saw her confessing that she'd realized her love and hadn't known how to tell him, just as he hadn't known how to tell her. He saw their friends telling them what a perfect match they made, and that they'd known all along. He saw them waltzing off into the sunset... but he knew real life didn't work like that.

They were friends, they were partners, they knew they were very different. They'd managed to relay those differences into something special, but who was to say that a romance and a friendship were the same? Maybe things would be different, maybe the differences would be too much. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

He was sick and tired of maybes, but he didn't know how to make them real.

* * * * * * * * * *

Making it real...

Julie took a deep breath, readying herself for what she had to say.

"I wrote the letters," she announced simply

Ross stared at her in abject shock.

"You?! B-but... Julie... you... but I..." he sputtered incoherently.

"Yup," she interrupted softly. "It was me all along."

"Oh, Julie." His expression suddenly dissolved into one of pure tenderness. "I'm glad... I'm so glad..."

And then she was in his arms, and he was holding her tightly... and then she looked up and he was gazing down at her. He gently tilted her head up towards his, and then...

And then she woke up.

Damn! She cursed inwardly as she looked around to realize she was in bed, the covers tangled around her, and sunlight streaming in through the cracks in her blinds. Alone. No Ross, no embrace, no promise of a kiss... it had all been a dream.

"Don't I wish it would all be that easy," she muttered under her breath as she kicked off the covers and got out of bed.

Dreams are just that... dreams, she thought to herself as she got ready for practice. Too perfect to ever be real... too easy, too uncomplicated.

Real life was a lot more complicated. Real life wasn't about fancy declarations and easy acceptances... it was about wondering what to do, how to do it, how much was too much. It was about knowing that with one little slip, you suddenly found yourself confronted with five possible rivals and didn't know how to get rid of them without giving yourself away.

She sighed. Real life was pretty intimidating, but she'd never been one to give up when the going got tough.

I'll find a way, she vowed resolutely. I will.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight/Lead me out on the moonlit floor/Lift your open hand/Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling/So kiss me..."

Ross walked into the rink and peered out at the ice quizzically. His partner was out there, twirling joyously to the strains of Sixpence None the Richer at full speed, looking like she was having the time of her life.

"Hey," he called out in greeting, walking over to the boards.

"Just a sec!" she called back, waving at him. She skated into a sitspin without missing a beat, then came out of it with a flourish and glided over to him. "Morning!"

"Okay, who's coming to film us today?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Film us? No one," she replied innocently. "What made you think that?"

"First of all, it's Monday morning, you're here early, and you're perky as hell," he pointed out with a grin. "Secondly, you were just showing off to no end..."

"I was not showing off!" she countered indignantly. "I was just having fun."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "And you're dressed to the nines."

She glanced down at her lavendar skating dress and looked back at him.

"What, a girl can't look nice once in awhile?"

"You never wear dresses to practice." He teasingly tweaked one of the glittery butterfly clips in her hair. "And besides..."

"Besides what?" she questioned as he trailed off.

"Never mind," he said sheepishly.

"Oh, no, you can't do that," she objected. "C'mon, tell me what you were gonna say."

He shuffled his feet, embarrassed. "I was just going to say that you always look nice, anyhow."

She smiled, surprised.

"Okay, what do you want?" she joked, trying to make light of the compliment.

"I want to know why you're wearing insects in your hair," he teased, just as lightly.

"Oh, shut up!" She playfully slapped his hand away from her butterflies and re-clipped the hair that had come loose. "Are we gonna skate, or just stand here talking nonsense all day?"

"Wellll..." He pretended to contemplate the idea, until he saw her look. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Although you were looking pretty good out there without me..."

"Give it up and get out here!" she ordered, laughing.

He walked off, sitting down on a bench to lace his skates. She'd resumed her impromptu choreography to "Kiss Me", and he stopped to watch for a minute.

Geez, is she ever beautiful, he mused, knowing he was smiling goofily, but not able to help it.

"Kiss me down by the broken tree house/Swing me upon its hanging tire/Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat/We'll take the trail marked on your father's map..."

"You always look nice, anyhow..." The compliment rung in her head, and she couldn't keep her smile off her face as she sung and skated along with the song, which was now playing for about the tenth time that morning.

For a second, she forgot all about the other five girls he'd mentioned as suspects the previous day. For a second, he forgot all about the letters and his worries and everything else.

She just skated, and he just smiled before he stepped onto the ice and joined her.

* * * * * * * * * *

Practice went overtime, and by the time Julie walked into the dressing room to change, several others were already there. She took a quick look around and gulped inwardly. There, in various stages of hair drying, make-up applying, skate unlacing, and dressing, were five of her fellow skaters - Candice, Svetlana, Laura, Maddie, Kristy.

The Five.

The five who’d unknowingly become her rivals with one unthinking slip of revelation. These five, who she’d always been friendly with, this collection of champions and champions-in-training, were now suspects in Ross’s eyes, and therefore, rivals in hers.

"Hi, Julie," Candice Abrahms greeted cheerfully, busy braiding her long brown hair. "Good practice?"

"Yeah, but tiring," Julie responded with a groan, sitting down to unlace her skates. "You and George looked pretty good out there... ready for Sectionals?"

"Yes... no... I hope so!" the perky skater said nervously.

"Aw, you guys are more ready that we are," Laura Robinson assured her friend. "Ilia seems to have completely lost his sense of timing over the last week... but don’t tell him I said that!"

"Someone is dressed up today," Kristy Jennings commented, raising an eyebrow at Julie. "Okay, how come I never noticed that TV people were here today?"

"Why does everyone automatically assume that just because I’m wearing a dress, we were being filmed today?" Julie exclaimed, exasperated. "We weren’t."

"Get out of here," Candice said skeptically. "Then what’s with the girly look?"

"I just felt like dressing up." Julie pulled a sweater over her head, wanting to cover up the fact that she was blushing.

"I know!" Madison Schultz piped up. "Someone special here watching practice today, hm, Julie?"

"Oh, Julie’s got a guy?" Svetlana Shushonova looked up from where she’d been reapplying her lipstick in front of the mirror, interested. "C’mon, Julie, spill the beans."

"There was no one here watching me practice!" Julie protested. "God, I’m never going to wear a dress again, if this is what happens."

"What, you don’t want to tell us about your Valentine?" Maddie teased. "Tell me about yours and I’ll tell you about mine..."

"Oh, Maddie, stop teasing her," Laura scolded. "Anyways, like there’s anyone left in this town that doesn’t know about your Valentine. How long have you been dating Brian, five months?"

"Five months? Maddie has been dating one guy for that long?" Kristy joked. "You’ve gotta be kidding me."

"Yes, I have been dating one guy for that long." Madison tried her best to look chagrined, then giggled. "Actually, you know, it’s getting kinda boring."

Maddie’s got a boyfriend? Julie suddenly smiled. Yay! She has a boyfriend! One down, four to go...

"Check out that grin!" Svetlana crowed, pointing at Julie. "Okay, that’s it, for once I think Maddie’s right. Julie has got a Valentine."

Julie doesn’t have a Valentine, Julie thought to herself. Julie wants a Valentine.

"For once and for all, I do not have a Valentine," Julie said firmly, brushing her hair. "I’m perfectly happy on my own, thank you very much."

"Yeah," Laura quipped. "That’s what we all say."

We? Meaning we as in all us single women? Damn, damn, damn! Julie mentally stuck Laura back on her list of rivals.

"That’s what I used to say before I found Rob," Kristy laughed. "And I believed it then, too."

Rob? Another boyfriend? Trying to keep her self-satisfied grin off her face this time, Julie mentally struck Kristy’s name off the suspects list.

Pulling her hair back with her butterfly clips, Julie took one last glance in the mirror and then gathered up her bag.

"I’m outta here," she announced, swinging the bag over her shoulder. "See ya tomorrow, guys."

"Bye, Julie!" the others chorused.

"Tell whoever he is hi for me," Maddie called after her mischeviously as the door swung shut.

You can say hi to him yourself, Julie thought as she walked out of the rink. Because here he comes now...

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hey!" She grabbed her partner by the arm and dragged him around the hallway corner.

"Huh?" Ross looked very confused. "Julie, what is it?"

"I found some stuff out just now," she whispered. "About... the others, the notes, you know?"

"You did?" Her partner suddenly looked very interested. "What?"

"Maddie and Kristy have boyfriends," she announced triumphantly. "So it can’t be either of them."

"Really?" he asked, processing the information. "How do you know?"

"Because they said so," she replied, giving him a “duh” look. "In the dressing room? You know, we talk..."

"So that leaves three," he mused. "Svetlana, Laura, and Candice."

"Svetlana and Candy might have boyfriends, too," she commented. "I’ll try to find out..."

"And Laura doesn’t?" he cut in.

"No, she doesn’t," she said relunctantly.

"Hmmm."

Julie didn’t like the thoughtful expression on her partner’s face. What was he thinking? she thought, starting to panic. Was he glad she didn’t have a boyfriend? Was he thinking about what it would be like if Laura really was the letter-writer?

Calm down, Julie, she warned herself for the umpteenth time. Don’t panic. Not yet, you can do this, it’s all up to you...

"Hi, Laura."

Julie suddenly snapped to attention as she heard her partner greet the very girl they’d just been discussing.

"Hey, guys," Laura replied, yawning. "Ready to call it a day?"

"Yup, we were just, uh, leaving," Ross said, with a sideways glance at Julie.

Laura hoisted her bag over her shoulder with one hand and waved goodbye with the other, dropping something in the process.

"Wait a sec, I think you dropped something," Ross called after her as she began to walk off.

He leaned over and picked up the fallen object. For a second, he just stared, and Julie moved closer to glance over at it. As her partner handed it back to Laura, he gave Julie a significant look.

The object he’d just handed back to the girl who was the new number one on their suspect list was a small, unmarked, very familiar-looking red envelope.

Onto Day 9... OR
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