Bossy Women (Redone)

“Did you get that hoodie at Dick’s?”

         I turned my head to the left and saw her. A short, slender girl barely topping out at five feet with cropped blonde hair and green eyes hidden by rectangular glasses. As an afterthought I noticed her lack of chest and I guess high school must have let out early.

With my usual sharp wit, I responded, “Huh?”

         “That hoodie, it’s one we sell at Dick’s.”

         “Oh, yeah, it was on sale.”

         “Knew it,” she grinned as she exclaimed this, the smile brightening up her pale face, “I sell quite a few of those athletic hoodies.”

         “Oh…They hire high school kids at Dick’s?” I asked innocently.

         She scowled a bit, lines deepening in the corners of her mouth, “I’m a junior at this campus jerk.”

I did a small double take and looked closer. I could see her age better now, but she could still easily pass as a high school kid. 

         “So, do you run at all?” she asked, still with a slight frown, “That’s one of our best hoodies for track.”

         “A little, only when I-“

         “Great,” she interrupted, “We should race then.”

         This midget must have a Napoleon complex or something. Who the hell asks a person out of the blue to a race? Was her training bra so tight it was cutting off oxygen to her brain? 

         I swallowed the quip and said instead, “I don’t run that much, like I said, it’s-”

         “Ooh, afraid you’d lose?” she taunted.

         Okay, I may not be much of a man, but I still have my goddamn pride. Hell if I’m going to back down to a mouthy pipsqueak.

         I scoffed at her and said, “Hell no, let’s go.”

         She smirked and walked me to the end of the sidewalk.

“This is the starting point.” she said, pointing at the sidewalk square, “The end of the sidewalk is our finish line, just across the street.”          

“So we run across that busy street then? Great idea”, I commented dryly.

         “All part of the challenge, besides, there's a crosswalk ain't there?”

“Just making sure you won’t get your smartass run over.” I said, refusing to back down now.

         She just flashed a lopsided grin and said, “On three, got it?”

         I glared at her and glanced around, glad that there weren’t that many people out this early to see me lose to this uppity girl.

         “One.”

         I stretched my legs and started to feel a trickle of adrenaline seep into my veins.

         “Two.”

         I steeled myself, looking sideways at the girl who had just gotten into a natural sprinter’s position. I could also see the words “Track and Field” emblazoned on her sweatpants.

         Well shit.

         “Three!”

         Then I understood what being left in the dust really meant. It was like watching an antelope take off on the Discovery Channel. In comparison, I started to plod along far behind, trying to lengthen my stride so I could use my long legs to my advantage. Soon, my long shanks started to eat up the distance between us, but I could already feel embers starting to kindle in my lungs.

         My breathing ragged and my legs growing more stiff, I looked ahead to see the street 100 feet away and my heart almost stopped. The crosswalk light was on, but so was the traffic light for cars to cross the crosswalk. I started to slow my pace, but the girl, head down and breathing hard, did not. I started to speed back up, the embers growing into flames, burning my lungs.

         “Stop!”

         I shouted at the girl, but she just turned her head and smirked at me. I cursed myself for drawing her attention away. My body reacted before I could really think about it, and I really wish I had thought about it. I lunged at her, hands outstretched. My feet found a bump in the sidewalk and the lunge turned into a fall. I managed to grab the back of the girl’s sweatpants and I yanked for all I was worth.

         As I effectively pantsed her, two thoughts came to mind. The first was chivalry is goddamn stupid. The second was, who the hell wears Hello Kitty panties? As my knees slid on the ground, I pulled her behind me as I hit the pavement in a tangle of limbs. The girl’s momentum landed her on top of my left arm. All these impacts registered as soon as I stopped rolling and if I had a moment, I coiuld reflect on what an idiot I was for accepting the challenge.

         The girl was looking at me in disgust, but that soon faded as the heavy bass of a car’s stereo passed by. Some Jersey Shore reject was behind the wheel, talking on a cell phone.

         “There’s a car, idiot,” I grumbled.

         She just stared as her lips quivered and she started to shake. So, with my left arm still under her, I held her as best as I could. That initial exterior of a tough tomboy crumbled in the face of near death, as I assume it would for anyone. She started to cry as she understood what just happened. There weren’t any huge wracking sobs, but she sniffled as tears leaked out.

I was dumbfounded; I had never had to hold a crying girl before. Hell, I barely held any girls before this. I just pulled her closer until she melted into my embrace. So, I guess arrogant bossy women have their vulnerable spots too. They’re just really small. A lot like her breasts. I grinned she looked up at me through the tears in gratitude and maybe a bit of attraction. I’d have to use that joke later.