Love Turns With Twisted Fates 2 Read Free Page A

purchased for us. I see a rainbow of pastels and solid wood furniture
with sheer covers for the window. My eyes close at the thought of a morning’s
sun hitting my face as I sat with the baby in the rocker.
    The sun rising reminds me of another sunrise.

Chapter Two:
Waiting for the Sun
    August 1998
    Thoroughly exhausted, but in desperate need of a second wind
to push forward on the research for my thesis project, I opt to take my break
from research with a good workout in one of the campus gyms. After an hour on
the elliptical, I’m a sweaty mess, but I want to get some dancing in to further
clear my mind before I head back to the library for a late night.
    There’s a little bit of a crowd—if you call a couple or so
handfuls of fellow co-eds a crowd, dispersed around the machines and weights.
As late as it is, there aren’t any classes going so I have my choice of
studios. Armed with a towel, my water bottle, and my portable compact disc
player, I head toward the smallest studio past the group of noisy jocks hitting
the weights.
    I pop out my CD and place it in the studio’s boom box,
skipping to the starting track for the workout routine the girls and I came up with.
I use the first songs to stretch and raise my heart rate.
    Daft Punk’s “Around the World” comes on and I’m fully immersed
in the thirty something minute routine. It was a project for a dance class Mazzy
and I took. It’s a lot like an aerobic workout routine with some killer dance
moves. Things kick up a notch with the next song, driving me through the
intense physical moves. When the next song comes on, I am extremely
appreciative of our inclination to slow the routine down a little after such an
intense six to seven minutes. I gyrate my hips to Janet Jackson singing about
taking him places he’s never been and the way love goes. Before the next heart
thumping, blood-pumping songs come on, my heart rate evens out and I’ve caught
my breath. I’m counting the songs and seconds to the cool down. Two more
songs, I tell myself.
    The next section of the routine finishes with a face plant
to start the groundwork portion of the cool down. Arching up and facing the
mirror, I register the small audience on the other side of the studio’s glass
wall.
    One face is familiar. Ha! Who am I kidding?
Familiar? That familiar face is Sebastian’s friend, Diego. Our eyes connect
in our reflections in the mirror. It takes everything I have to continue and
keep up with the routine as the music doesn’t pause with my distraction. I
close my eyes to tune out Diego and his buddies. I keep them closed to avoid meeting
Diego’s piercing stare another time. I can’t see him, but I can feel his eyes
on me.
    When the music stops, I take a moment to just lay there. The
second wind I was chasing has come, but my mind is on a pair of russet brown
eyes. The look I caught in his them when our gazes connected in the mirror has
created an unfamiliar need within me. The feeling of being watched has passed
and I decide it’s now or never to get up.
    Peeling myself from the floor, I am more than relieved that
my earlier audience, ALL of my earlier audience is gone. I guzzle what’s left
of my water and contemplate the odds of running into the man that’s been racing
through my mind for the last week. Momma always said that fate worked in
mysterious ways.
    After a quick shower to wash off the grime and to give me
that much more energy, I’ve gathered my belongings in my workout bag and am
pushing through the doors of the gym. I’m leaving Mazzy a message to see if
she’s still on campus and wants to grab a quick bite at the diner just off
campus when it feels like I’ve walked into a wall of solid muscle. Flustered
and frustrated by my carelessness, I force myself to look up and apologize to
whomever I’ve just attempted to bulldoze with my poor attention skills.
    “Sorr—,” I’m blown away. Standing before me is Diego. His
presence mixed with my colliding into