"Do you want to hang out?"

I heard the words, but I couldn't think of the "correct" response.

"I thought we just did," I stated. Two thick bags gathered at my feet as I tried to get my coat on.

August smirked.

"If you think that was," August lifted his hand up, fingers acting like quotes, "hanging out, then we have a problem."

"What problem is that?"

"You're a workaholic."

I forced my laughter to go away. Instead, the vibrations stayed in my chest. My cheeks squeezed and teeth were on display.

"You think so?" I asked.

August nodded. "Uh-huh, you've been pre-diagnosed."

"By who?"

"Me."

I huffed. "We can totally believe what you say, non-doctor."

"Street smart," August replied, "That's all I'm saying."

We stood near EspressGo's front entrance. Customers walked around us. The winter breeze tickled our faces and legs. The cold seeped through my pants every time the door opened.

I laughed until August took a step forward invading my space.

I took a step back.

From filming, I realized the small touches he placed. On my knuckles. Lips. Shoulders. Calf. Feet. And one time, when he "bumped" into my side, near my stomach. The touch lingers for a second then it goes away. He didn't move. It was me every time. I was hyper aware of his presence.

The warmth stayed. I wasn't sure if the energy from his hands transferred to my body. The energy continued to stay there like what I was taught in "Applied Science" or not. Or a reaction? But what did that reaction mean? Temperature rising. Heartbeats thumping. Sweat profuse. Multiple medic diagnosis came to mind.

Heart attack. Blood clot. All seemed a stretch from the true occurrence. However, I taught myself to think the worse outcome to better prepare myself. Especially when a person's life depended on my decisions and fast paced thought process. A logical explanation for my symptoms. For now, it seemed whenever I stepped away from the close proximity, the heart beats slowed to a normal pace. This "tickling" sensation in my stomach stopped.

It was unnerving these symptoms. The more I experienced, the more I wanted to scratch and fight against it. Whatever it was. The control over my body disappeared, it took over instead.

The only factor that worked was to be away from August.

Therefore, "hanging out" would be reserved for another time. When I felt better. Most likely when these annoying, fluttering, uncontrollable sensations vanished.

"Let's go out for lunch," August proposed, "My treat."

"I'm not hungry."

My right arm fumbled with the coat sleeve.

What's up with this coat?

August stepped behind me. His fingers stretched out the coat's length out for me to slip my arm through it. The smooth movement freaked me out, and I hesitantly accepted the extra hand.

His hands smoothed out the wrinkles on my shoulder and then down my forearms. Shivers. Stomach growled. The truth spoke louder than my silence.

"I'm good," I said, dismissing those touches. My hands waved in the air similar to "wax on" and "wax off" from Karate Kid.

"Was that your stomach?" August asked, pointing towards my belly.

"No." My stomach grumbled once more.

"Lying is frowned upon," he chuckled.

"Well, you know," I replied, giving another side wink.

Why do I keep doing that? It seems fit to do so. And it makes the symptoms fade too.

August scratched the back of his neck. Licking his lips, he then said, "What do I know?"

I blinked.

Why did I say that? "I," I paused, "don't know. I just tried to be funny?"

"Funny? I say more flirting."

I pushed against August's chest.

"I'm not flirting," I huffed.

August squinted for a moment. His head tilted. The brunette hair followed his movement.

He hummed. "I'm pretty sure you're flirting."

"I'm not. Believe me, I suck at flirting."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know," I replied, "Well, I guess I do. I have little experience with it."

August gazed at me.

"For a beginner, you're doing great."

Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

What are you doing heart?!

"Says the guy who flirts as if it's a sport."

August held up his hands. "You speak the truth. That means I have an eye for it."

He took one step closer.

He's doing it again.

There went my heartbeat. The pulse quickened as he became a part of my space. Sweat resumed to the abnormal rate. My feet tapped on the floor as if I was ready to dash out of EspressGo any second.

"And you," August stared into my eyes, "Sure love to tease."

I pulled my two thick bags from the ground. My arms held them closer to my body. The bags separated us, the material rubbed up against August's t-shirt and black leather jacket.

Good, now he can stay there. He needs to stay a couple feet away. I need to figure out what's wrong with me. Maybe the patient earlier infected me.

My smile wavered. "You love to be coy more than I do."

"It's the truth."

"Why do you like being," I tried to think of another word, "playful?"

I shook my head. Wrong word choice!

"Flirting? I mean that. Not the other word," I blushed.

August shrugged. "It's fun."

"What about a genuine conversation than to constantly play tongue-and-cheek?"

August thought for a moment. "Everyone has a different idea about 'genuine.' I'm doing that."

"You're not."

August face scrunched up. "I'm pretty sure when I'm being genuine."

"Isn't flirting a form of entertainment?"

August placed his hands in his jacket pocket. I heard the heavy air leaving his chest.

"I don't know."

"Like winking. Winks show almost cheeky qualities, but they're also to see how the person reacts," I responded.

"Like the two you gave me earlier?"

I bit my lip.

Shi – he's observant. "C-Correct," I glanced down at my bags. The heavy weight initiated the soreness to happen with my arms. The bags lowered back towards the floor. "I'll be honest. I don't know why I did it. I just – just did it? Does that make sense?"

August's face had a neutral expression.

"It makes sense."

"Good, I just-"

August scratched at his nose. "Are we going for lunch or what?"

The words came out quickly. The rhythm seemed intense. His eyes glanced at the front door. He zipped up his jacket, the screech noise made me jump.

"I-I really don't feel good," I said, "We can go another day."

"Sure."

My stomach settled down. Those flutters and tickles dissolved.

"Excellent," I glanced up, "What day." My voice faded.

August had opened the front door and left. The coldness swiped across my cheeks. My newly wrapped right hand shivered. I watched August's back from the frosted windows. His jacket covered his neck up. I frowned.

What was that about?

' ' ' ' ' '

I wrapped my hand around the emerald ceramic coffee mug. The hot apple cider steamed in the comfortable temperature. The smell made my mouth water. My feet swayed up and down, hitting the counter wall. My ruby sweater tucked under my butt on the twisty stool. My elbows rested on the bar-like counter; the white and black marble mixed together and created a neutral atmosphere.

"He left?" Lydia asked.

She sat by me. Lydia's hands held leftover Christmas cookies ("Those were for Santa for next year," Monica screamed, earlier before Lydia put her down for nap time), the crumbs coated the white and black marble counter. The kitchen area was open and connected to the smaller living room. Down the hallway, there were three doors; one door covered in cartoon kitties, puppies, turtles, and scripted letters that spelled out "Monica," and the other two plain doors lead to Lydia's bedroom, and a seashell sticker door lead to the bathroom.

Lydia received my text message:

I discovered my symptoms settled down once I left EspressGo. My stomach felt fine. I shivered because of the nasty, January cold. I recalled the last time I spent time with Lydia was a couple weeks ago when Lydia suggested trying this documentary thing out.

I went to extend the invitation to my apartment, but Lydia beat me to it. Lydia's apartment was in OTR (Over-The-Rhine) near E Central Parkway. The historical Cincinnati area received new renovation, restaurants, bars, and tons of entertainment accumulated there in the past six years. Lydia hoped to relocate to another area soon. However, this was a reasonable cost with the fact, she lived closer to her occupation and Monica wouldn't have to change schools. This would have to do for now.

"Yes," I stated, "After we had a conversation about flirting."

Once I stepped into Lydia's apartment.

The persistent questions launched and Lydia's curiosity grew, for example: "What's it like being filmed?"

"How was August? A jerk? Reasonable?"

"What happened in your 'first episode'?"

"Did you tell him that you basically stalked him online?"

I explained what occurred, especially how August departed.

"I'm confused about the whole situation," I said, taking a small sip. The warmth heated up my mouth.

Laughter broke the confusion.

I looked at Lydia. My head tilted as I watched my best friend's chest rumble. Lydia covered my mouth, soft pink painted fingernails shined in the artificial lighting.

"Oh darling," Lydia giggled, "You don't understand?"

I shook my head. "I keep replaying what I said. And what his body language was. His reply was short and precise. He seemed to be in a hurry, but earlier he kept on touching me-"

"He was mad."

"Why would he be mad? Well, I understand since I told him I couldn't eat out with him-"

"When did his behavior change?"

I got quiet. I twisted around to face Lydia instead of the counter.

"I mentioned flirting."

"And?" Lydia drew out the word in a sing song way.

"I believe winking too."

Lydia hummed. "Who did the winking?"

Ugh. My eyes glanced at my hot apple cider. "I did."

Lydia spit out her cookie crumbs onto the counter. She coughed.

I rushed over to keep an eye on Lydia's vitals, her pulse, making sure she was coughing because it meant that she was breathing. My index and middle finger hovered on Lydia's wrist.

One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. Okay, her breathing is going back to normal.

"You did what?" Lydia asked, once her coughing spell decreased.

"Winked."

Lydia laughed again. It was a warm and fast rhythm giggle.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Why?"

"That you winked," Lydia replied, reaching out to pinch my nose, "at a boy."

I gently pushed Lydia's hand away. I rubbed my pinched nose.

"I don't know why I did it."

"Of course, you do."

I shook my head. "I'm not quite sure. I kind of went 'with it'. August would have done it."

"Uh-huh."

"I was honest with him. I told him I winked because it felt right."

Lydia let out a sigh. "You're in a pickle."

"Do you know why he was angry?"

"I know why."

I reached out to Lydia. "Please tell me."

"I think you'll figure it out on your own," Lydia said, getting up from her seat to clean up her mess. "You're an intelligent and independent woman. You got it."

Then she winked.

I placed my arms on the counter and hid my face.

I made the whole situation with August worse. Should I reach out to him?

"Want to watch a movie?"

I perked up. "What do you have in mind?"

Lydia shrugged her shoulders. "Sci-fi? Fantasy?"

"Firefly the television series?"

Lydia nodded and smiled. "Yes! That sounds great to me."

I clapped happily. "I love me some Nathan Fillion."

"I'm sure that's what August wishes you say about him."

"I doubt that." I plopped down on the couch.

Lydia walked over towards the television and plugged in the DVD into the BluRay system.

Is that what August wants? No. He wants attention. I'm sure he's enjoying the other two women's time. Who are they anyways? Will the documentary touch bases on that? That there are multiple women and the women know?

"This is so messed up," I whispered to myself.

I pulled my cell phone out of habit.

My lock screen was blank.

Should I text him? Reach out? No, he's probably enjoying someone else's company.

I locked it. Then I unlocked it, in case a new message came through, and saw that I got a new email.

Sugar McKenzie

Choi Min-ho

Hello Sugar! I wanted to reach out to you and thank you for this amazing opportunity with Online Dating: Real or Fiction? Violet told me the first recording went beautifully. I hope it'll continue to do so. If you have any questions, I love to help!

Also, you'll be receiving your income soon. Possibly by the end of this week, Hazel Inc., has provided first pay. Then they'll give the next payment for the next recording. This doesn't happen that fast in this industry, I negotiated with Mr. Dalton about the percentage, salary, and payments.

Next time, when we meet or Violet, I'll need all the information for a direct deposit.

Have a great day!

Sincerely,

Choi Min-ho

I squealed.

My hands shook as I replied to Min-ho.

: Choi Min-ho

Sugar McKenzie

Thank you so much! Yes, I'll give the information as quickly as possible.

Sincerely,

Sugar McKenzie

My loans. Oh my gosh! This will help with my student loans.

Opening the text messages, I clicked on August's name.

Thank you, August! Thank you!! Thank you! What day would you like to eat out?

Sent 4:43 PM

"Your giggling?"

"I'm going to get paid!"

Lydia plopped down next to me. Her hand held the small remote. "You better be."

I let out a relief.

The xylophone song made my hands shake. He replied.

Whenever you want, Lollipop.

Then another message popped up.

Sorry about earlier, I had to leave quickly.

Sent 4:46 PM

It's all good. I understand.

Want to go tomorrow?

Sent 4:48 PM

I have to meet Courtney and Victoria for this week.

I'm free next week though.

Sent 5:01 PM

Courtney and Victoria. I guess those are going to be in the documentary too.

Yeah, that's fine.

I'll talk to you later.

Sent 5:03 PM

Do I sense jealousy? 😉

Sent 5:04 PM

"Who are you texting?" Lydia asked, as she pressed the play button.

"August. I'm done though. Now it's time to enjoy the show!"

Lydia nodded.

Jealous? Me? Hardly.

I'm getting tired. Please send help. I want to keep going.

I love August and Sugar teasing each other. And the whole scene with Sugar and Lydia: the friendship! I want to write more about friendship and family.

Thank you for all the votes and comments. Really, I'm blessed that you're taking time out of your day to read this story. Thank you! ❤️❤️

What do you think will be happening next?! Any guesses?