Laura DeBow
Dictating her to-do list to her phone as she rushed toward the gym’s front door, Hannah collided with a solid wall of grey cotton.
“Whoa there, Hannah.” Gentle hands on her upper arms steadied her.
Embarrassed, she looked up. “I’m sorry, I should watch where I –” The man’s green eyes glimmered in amusement, and her heart took a funny little tumble.
“It’s no problem. See you later.” He smiled and continued toward the parking lot.
Who was that? He’d called her by name. He was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. Hannah hurriedly entered the gym and clocked in on the front desk computer.
“Someone wrote you a letter,” Natalie singsonged beside her.
“Hmmmm?” Distracted, Hannah set her tote in a cubby under the counter and pinned her nametag onto her Full-On Fitness polo.
Natalie pulled an envelope from a drawer. “Tada, look!” She fluttered it under Hannah’s nose. Hannah’s eyes rounded, and she snatched the envelope.
Small, tidy handwriting addressed the missive to “Hannah, front desk”. She fingered the return address. Jenkins Home Construction. Hmmm, not ringing any bells.
Natalie bounced on her toes. “Open it!”
Hannah giggled. “Why are you so invested?”
“Because until a handsome man delivers me a note at work, I’m living vicariously through you.”
“Handsome?” Hannah’s brows knit in consideration.
Natalie gripped Hannah’s arm. “For the love, just read it!”
Hannah snickered. “Yes, ma’am, opening now.” Deliberately, she ran a finger under the flap, loosening the seal. Her heart took on an unexpected thumping.
“Hurry! Aren’t you curious?”
“Sorry, got a lot on my mind with finals and all.” She withdrew a single sheet of letterhead. A quick glance ensured no guests approached, and she read the handwritten letter, the soundtrack of clanking weights fading into the background.
Dear Hannah,
You may not know or realize who I am, but we interact several times a week, every time you check me in at the gym. Your sunny attitude and friendly smile always make my day. I would very much like to take you out sometime, maybe for coffee or dinner. Would you consider going on a date with me?
A little about me: I’m a contractor and own a construction and renovation business. I don’t have many opportunities to meet ladies. They are few and far between in my industry. As a business owner, I also don’t have much free time, but I try to embrace a work hard, play hard lifestyle, and enjoy mountain biking, hiking, and photography as hobbies. Working out at Full-On Fitness is my favorite form of stress relief, and to be honest, I’ve found myself there more often than I used to be since first noticing you.
I’d appreciate an opportunity to spend time with you to get to know you better. If you are interested, which I really hope you will be, I’ll include my contact info below.
Warmly,
Drew Jenkins
214-555-5683
Drew@JenkinsHomeConstruction.com
“Well?!” Natalie was coming out of her skin.
Hannah held up a “one moment” finger. Mind whirling, her pulse kicked up another notch, and a smile tickled her lips. Drew Jenkins, the name felt familiar. She reread the letter then handed it to Natalie. Hannah turned to the computer and entered Drew’s name. His profile photo popped up, and she clicked the image, enlarging it.
He was handsome with disheveled sandy hair and a tanned face punctuated by vivid green eyes and a lopsided smile. Recognition flirted with the edge of her mind. Wait, was this the guy she just ran into?
“O.M.G.” Natalie’s squeal startled her. “You’re gonna go, right?” She waved the letter and peered at the screen. “Yep, that’s him. Wowza!”
Hannah nibbled her lower lip and turned toward Natalie who handed the letter back. “When did he deliver this? Is he here now?” Her gaze bounced around the buzzing gym. Hannah realized she could answer her own question. She swiveled back to the computer and minimized the photo, clicking to access Drew’s check-in history.
“Not that long ago. He didn’t work out, just dropped it off and left. I bet he’ll be back in later since you’re here now.”
Hannah studied Drew’s account. Yes, he routinely checked in during evenings when she was usually on-shift. And she confirmed a definite increase in his attendance over the past several weeks.
Something about him called to her. Weird, because she’d been on a dating break to focus on school. She wished she could more clearly recall a specific exchange between them before their collision earlier. The problem with him coming in during peak busy hours was that the front desk was slammed, and interactions with each member, brief.
She was intrigued, but did she have time for dating? Work and earning her Masters in exercise physiology kept her busy. The workload was heavy, especially with all the required labs. But enticed by his sentiment regarding work-life balance, she returned to Drew’s photo and felt an overwhelming urge to take a chance.
The afterwork rush began, and Hannah shelved her ponderings as she checked in guest after guest. She searched every male face for those green eyes. Finally, they snagged on the one she sought.
Aha, Drew! The backward baseball cap he wore every time he came to the gym is what threw her when studying his profile pic. It was absent in the photo, as well as during their earlier encounter. Drew approached, shyly it seemed, and held out his tag.
“Hey Hannah, how’s it going?” He drawled.
Her fingers tingled as she took the membership tag from his work-callused hand. “Good, Drew. How are you?”
One side of his mouth tipped up. “I’m great, thanks.” Their eyes held for a beat before he began to turn away.
Work hard, play hard – she liked the notion. Heart in her throat, Hannah grabbed a sticky note. “Drew, wait.” Without further debating herself she scrawled, “Yes! Dinner on Saturday?” She extended the sticky to him, her smile timid.
Drew’s eyes twinkled. “Perfect.”
When not dreaming up characters, figuring out plots, or tinkering with words, Laura can be found spending time with her husband of 21+ years, cheering on their teenagers in multiple sports, reading, cooking, or doing something active.
Connect with her on Facebook, Instagram, or her website.
Spark Flash Fiction 