Fifteen: Eavesdropping? I Prefer the Term "Listening Without Permission..."

I didn’t mean to end up like this.

            And when I say that, I mean I didn’t plan to end up buried in a bush below Rhythm Cabin, trying my best not to be spotted by any passersby (or even worse, anyone from inside the cabin).

            Because, let’s face it, it’s kind of awkward when you’re caught listening in at someone’s window from the shelter of some nearby shrubbery.

            Just a tad.

            I seriously need to get out soon, though. I’m pretty sure my skin is already likened to a bad case of chicken pox, where all the sharp branches have prickled my bare arms. This is probably why bushes aren’t designed to make comfy seating areas.

            But seriously, it was way too tempting. How was I supposed to resist when I clearly heard Tom going into Rhythm Cabin, where his brother is? He said that he’d talk to him about me... I just saw the window and grabbed the opportunity.

            Even though, in hindsight, it’s probably one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made.

            You know, apart from the orange hair thing.

            And despite going through all this trouble, pain and risk of mortification if I’m caught, I still haven’t found out anything. Why did I even think of doing this? I’m such an idiot. It’s pretty obvious that Blake prefers Cindy to me, anyway. That’s what he’ll tell Tom.

            And yes, I am still freaking paranoid that Tom will say something embarrassing about me. Because that’s exactly what he’s like, and I don’t think I can take any more humiliation this summer. Haven’t I suffered enough?

            I’ve got a feeling the God of Embarrassment doesn’t agree with me.

            “So... what about Bailey?”

            Immediately, my ears prick up. The sound seems to be originating from inside the cabin I am stalking. Yes, result! Maybe my chicken pox looking skin will be worth it.

            Well, it probably won’t be, but I still want to hear their conversation.

            I’m incredibly tempted to stand up so I can see through the window, but the more rational part of my brain tells me that this would not be a good idea. Because suddenly appearing at someone’s window doesn’t scream ‘I’m a stalker!’

            There is a pause, as well as the sound of shuffling. “She’s cool,” comes Blake’s response.

            Well, I was kind of hoping for “she’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever met and I’ve fallen madly in love with her”, but you know. “She’s cool” will do too.

            “Where did you guys disappear off to the other day?”

            Way to be subtle, Tom. I’m actually kind of afraid the next words out of his mouth are going to be “She’s asked me to find out whether you like her, so do you?”

            “Oh…” Another pause. “We just went down to the lake.”

            And almost made out, I want to add.

            “You seemed to be getting on pretty well.”

            “Yeah, she’s alright.”

            Nice to know I’m appreciated. Seriously... I know he’s afraid of commitment or whatever crappy explanation Savannah came up with, but I at least thought I was better than ‘alright’. A lot of things are ‘alright’. My t-shirt is ‘alright’. The piece of plastic on the end of my laces is ‘alright’.

            And as of now, Blake is now ‘alright’ to me.

            Until I see his rock hard abs and it occurs to me how much I still want to make out with him.

            “Really? I thought you guys were, you know...”

            There is a pause. I don’t like the sound of that pause. “No, we’re not.”

            “Oh.”

            Well, this is an interesting conversation. I honestly can’t believe I went through all the trouble of hiding in a freaking bush, just to hear myself being called ‘alright’, and to validate that we are not ‘you know...’

            Not to mention I have now got to try and overcome the impossible task of exiting the bush and retreating back to my cabin without being spotted. Now there’s a way to start an awkward conversation. Oh, this is just great. The more I think about it, the more the obvious hits me... how actually am I going to get out? If I wait for Tom to leave, he could easily spot me around the side of the cabin and question me on what the hell I’m doing there. The only other option is to channel my inner Usain Bolt (which I’m pretty sure doesn’t exist), and run away as quickly as possible (whilst ensuring that my bra does not ride up as I do so). However, if I do this, there’s a good chance that one of them will spot the weird figure sprinting across the woodland in the direction of Forte Cabin.

            Which might be a slight giveaway.

            “So... do you like her, or...?”

            “Dude, what is it with the twenty questions?” Blake’s voice sounds abruptly. “Do you like her or something? Because if you do, then go for it. I mean, it’s not like I care...”

            “What? No! Of course I don’t like her. What are you talking about?”

            “Then why are you going all red?”

            Oh my God, this is getting weird. I should probably stop listening right about now; hiding in the bush is making me feel like some kind of stalker (which is kind of what I am). That and the fact that I can’t stop thinking about how awkward it would be if one of them were to spot me.

            Let’s just say I think Blake would be reluctant to make out with me after that.

            “Whatever, man.” Blake sounds completely uninterested. “If you like her, then it doesn’t bother me.”

            “I never said I liked her!”

            This would be a lot more reassuring if Tom didn’t sound so completely mortified that his brother would ever think that. Thanks, guys. This is really boosting my self esteem.

            “Whatever you say. Anyway, I’m going out. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

            As I hear Tom’s positive response, my heartbeat instantly quickens. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I’m pretty sure that if Blake comes outside the cabin, he’ll spot me round the side of the wall. This bush isn’t exactly the biggest bush in the world and… well, I’m not a stick thin supermodel. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

            Let’s just say my butt’s probably sticking out a lot more than I would’ve preferred.

            My head snaps frantically in both directions, as if there will be a note stuck on one of the branches with a detailed escape route from this situation. That would be pretty helpful, actually, but unsurprisingly, it doesn’t exist. Seems like no one’s ever been in this predicament before.

            Well, that’s just great. Nice to know I’m the only person on this planet stupid enough to think hiding in a bush below a window to listen to a conversation is a good idea. Did I not get the briefing about this or something? No one’s ever mentioned that this is the worst idea ever.

            The sound of the cabin door opening greets my ears, soon followed by the tapping of sneakers on the porch outside. Oh my God, oh my God. Please don’t let him go to the left side of the cabin.

            I sit silently, holding in a breath with intense concentration. If I don’t move an inch, there’ll be no reason for him to look this way. And then hopefully, just hopefully, I’ll be able to remain undetected.

            But nothing ever works out simply for me, does it?

            As I dare to peek out through the leaves of the shrub, my eyes fall on Blake, who is now walking casually down the porch stairs and across the lawn. Damn, why does he have to look so constantly hot? It’s not fair for the rest of us, who don’t wake up looking like we’re modeling for Hollister. I almost let myself get distracted by the apparent softness of his golden hair, which looks so comfy I could probably take a nap in it.

            I really need to focus on the real matter in hand.

            Which is the seemingly simple task of not getting caught hiding in a bush below your crush’s window.

            Blake moves effortlessly across the freshly mown grass, but it still seems like an eternity to me. I am almost in the clear when…

            No.

            Oh, please God, no.

            I’m going to sneeze.

            Why have I not Googled ‘how to stop a sneeze’ before? If I could go back and redo one mistake in my life, that would be the one thing I would correct. Well, I suppose I could stop myself from hiding in this bush in the first place, but where would be the fun in that? Oh my God, if I could just delay it for like ten more seconds…

            “Achoooooooooooo!”

            Too late.

            As if an instant reflex, Blake’s head snaps in my direction just milliseconds after the sound has been released into the air. My own reflex is to freeze immediately, as if this will somehow turn me invisible, but it doesn’t. Blake spots my sticking out bum in a matter of seconds and I can see him walking over slightly tentatively, as if afraid of what he might find.

            Which is understandable, you know. I’d be kind of weirded out too if I found some random guy snooping around in a bush below my window. Flattered, maybe, to receive any kind of male attention, but also totally weirded out.

            “Bailey?”

            Trying to hide the grimace that desperately wants to find its way onto my face, I turn around so that I am facing Blake’s tall shadow before me. It’s funny how from the view of a bush at his feet, he looks a lot more threatening. Maybe it’s just my imagination. Or maybe it’s the fact that I feel like I complete idiot sitting in a bush, spying on people from their cabin window.

            “Um… hi,” I force out awkwardly, rising into a standing position and trying to ignore the prickles from the bush’s branches on the way up.

            Blake’s expression only increases in confusion. “Uh… why are you in a bush?”

            “I was just…” Come on, Bailey! Think, think, think! There must be one rational reason in the entire universe to justify why I’ve taken up residence in some shrubbery.

            Isn’t there?

            “I lost an earring.”

            Yes, saved! Bailey Cunningham… the master of thinking on the spot.

            “You don’t wear earrings.”

            Okay, maybe not. Why hadn’t I got my ears pierced like the rest of the teenage population? Because it freaking hurts, that’s why. I really don’t see the point in enduring a needle through your ear just for one tiny little hole that probably ends up going all gooey and infected anyway. However, it would’ve got me out of this situation a lot more smoothly.

            “Did I say earring?” There goes my squeaky fake laugh once more (I really need to work on that). “Uh, no, I meant…”

            “Meant what?”

            “I meant… pencil.”

            Kill me now. Please, someone take a knife and hack off my head. I’m pretty sure it’d be less painful than this stupidly awkward conversation.

            “Pencil?”

            “Um, yeah… I dropped it somewhere in here.”

            “Right,” Blake says, although his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Even a deaf and blind person would be able to tell that he doesn’t believe me, and is probably just going along with my stupid excuse to avoid the effort of confronting me about my stalking habits.

            Which does make life easier for me. Just not any less embarrassing.

            Cue another nervous laugh.

            “Um, okay,” Blake responds. His brows are still furrowed and it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of my mouth. “Well, I’d better be off. Hope you find your… pencil.”

            “Um, thanks.”

            After another strange look is sent in my direction, he turns around and continues across the lawn, in the direction opposite from me. I watch after him as he does so, concentrating immensely on maintaining the relatively normal color of my cheeks and trying not to get too absorbed in looking at his butt.

            It only takes a couple of seconds for him to return to the path and continue towards the main block, where he was originally heading. He doesn’t even turn back to glance at me, let alone call a goodbye or throw me a wave. A part of me wants to feel disappointed at this, but in all honesty, I don’t blame him. I was just caught spying on him through his window, after all. It’s not often that you ensure your stalker receives a heartfelt goodbye.

            It then occurs to me that I’m still standing in my new favorite shrub, knee-deep in prickles and leaves that continue to scratch violently at my skin. Since when did plants become so brutal?

            Probably since I started hiding in them.

            I think I need to see a therapist.

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Woo, another chapter! That's all I can think of to write. Seriously, I think my author's notes are getting more boring with every chapter :P I need something interesting to happen in my life so I can write about it here. As I'm typing this, I'm belting out the Glee version of Defying Gravity because for some reason it came up on shuffle. I'm so in tune ;) And that's all! Until the next chapter :D

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