simply curious to see to how he would react. At least that’s what I’d told myself.
He was already seated when I got there, so, like the other meals, I sat next to him. But this time, when I brushed up against him as I sat down, instead of flinching, he pressed his thigh into mine and kept it there for the entire meal. I liked this. I could feel his body and smell his clean smell. He kept sneaking glances at me and giving me half-smiles as I talked. Let's just say that I was distracted throughout the entire meal. Despite my lack of interest in my dinner, conversation surged, especially involving plans for the visually impaired students coming the next day.
"We're going to be focusing on tactile sensations for the participants," I told the table. Staff members before me had properly set up the Headlands Program for assisting with all sorts of disabilities. Besides various games, CDs, and training materials, the ranch even had a three-dimensional map of the horse arena so that the students could explore it with their hands before they got on the horses. That way they'd know what to expect. After I talked about the different things the students were going to do this week, I concluded, "This is going to be a week of waking up all of our senses."
Will stifled a smile and put his hand over his mouth, his nostrils flaring.
Dirty birdie.
Damn, if I didn't like it. A lot.
At the end of the meal, as everyone else picked up their dishes and went to bus them to the kitchen, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I'll wake up your senses this week if you wake up mine."
He looked me in the eyes, intently, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Deal."
Janine and Stephanie came back over to me and the three of us walked back to the bunkhouse, leaving Will to go to his. I felt like he watched me as we walked away, but I didn’t spin around to look. Finally, as we headed up the steps, I turned and watched Will go up to his ranch house, alone, and suppressed the urge to chase him down and tackle him.
My dreams that night were spicy, to say the least, and starred him.
The following morning, I woke up before the triangle, because I was so excited to meet the kids. A surge of adrenaline propelled me out of bed and got me to breakfast early. I took my coffee to go and set up for the kids while I anxiously waited for their arrival. When the vans pulled up, followed by a pickup truck with their luggage, I ran out to meet them.
"Hello, and welcome to the Headlands Program," I said, as the six participants and their parents or adult leaders made their way out of the vehicles. "I'm Marie and I'm here to make sure you all have a wonderful time. I'm so glad you're here. Now, my first question when I got here was, is there somewhere to pee?"
There were a few laughs.
I walked up to each of the six participants individually, who ranged in ages from nine to eighteen, and shook their hands and talked with them, and let them touch me, if they wanted to. One participant in particular, a seventeen-year-old girl named Clarissa, had long, dark blonde hair plaited into dozens of braids, going down her head into rows with beads on the end, kind of like Bo Derek. When I met her, she turned towards me, held out her hand, and said, "Hair sings to me. Let me feel your hair and I will tell you what it sounds like." I bent and put my head in her hands and she trilled a clear, high, note. Then she told me, "Oh, your hair is fun. We are going to have a good time."
With these kids, the pace slowed down from my enthusiasm that morning. We made our way, with care, to the bunkhouse, and took our time setting everyone up. I was impressed once I realized that there was braille on all the signs in the compound. This place was set up for helping people.
After lunch, we headed over to the horses, and Stephanie took over.
None of them had ever ridden a horse before, and I was impressed by their bravery. Fear of horses is common. Horses are big animals, and they can feel
Learning to Kill: Stories