by Tiffany King
“Mac,” I returned, trying to maneuver around in Bentley’s arms so I could shake his hand.
He grinned at me. “Mac? I like it. Like mac and cheese. I’m a huge fan.”
“Chad,” Bentley warned, helping me position myself so I was tucked against his side.
“What? I’m serious,” Chad answered, holding his palms up. “So, what have you two wacky kids been up to sitting here in the dark?”
“Watching a movie,” Bentley answered.
“Really? Looks like I just missed it.” Chad looked pointedly at the TV, which was now displaying the movie’s menu screen. “Methinks you two were playing spin the bottle without the bottle.”
Bentley flicked him in the ear. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Just being observant. I’m bummed I missed the movie, though. Ferris Bueller is my idol.”
“We can watch it again,” I offered since I’d missed about ninety percent of the movie.
“Ha, I knew you two were busy playing tonsil hockey,” Chad said, making himself comfortable as he restarted the movie.
“Make yourself at home,” Bentley drawled dryly.
“Why, thank you, my boy,” Chad answered, picking up the pizza crust we had rescued from the couch earlier. He sniffed it before biting an end off.
I shook my head. Men had no standards at times.
He polished off the rest of the crust, looking around for a pizza box he may have missed. “I’m starving. We should order a pizza.”
“You hungry?” Bentley asked me. My stomach grumbled, answering his question. I had skipped lunch since my stomach was tied in knots thinking about tonight.
We all laughed at my stomach’s reaction. “The lady’s belly has answered. Order us some grub, my good friend,” Chad ordered.
Bentley chucked the remote at him, but rose from the couch to call the pizza place anyway. I sat sandwiched between the two of them while they provided a running commentary throughout the movie. They could practically quote every line word for word. The movie was funny, but the premise was a little too unrealistic for me. Not that I would confess to Bentley that it wasn’t exactly the life-changing experience he had promised. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Besides, by the time the movie ended, I had to hold my stomach from laughing so hard at his and Chad’s impressions of the characters.
It was by far the most fun I’d had in a while. Chad was like a big kid, thrusting an Xbox controller in my hands because he insisted that I had to give Halo a try. He then proceeded to mock me as I fumbled around like a complete novice. Bentley offered helpful hints in between shooting his own aliens, but it became apparent that I wouldn’t have a future as a pro gamer.
“Hey, has she met Sherman yet?” Chad asked as we cleaned up the pizza mess.
“No. Why would I let her meet that no-good future pair of boots?”
“Harsh, man.” Chad looked at me, patting my hand. “He just doesn’t understand Sherman. I’ll be right back.”
“Chad, come on,” Bentley objected.
“No, it’s cool. I want to see him,” I piped in.
“See. Listen to your lady, bro,” Chad added to rub it in.
He returned seconds later, holding the large reptile. It was the first time I’d seen an iguana in person. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it was fake because Sherman never moved as Chad carried him. That is, until Bentley came close, at which time he hissed like he had seen a mortal enemy.
“Wow, he really doesn’t like you, does he?” I asked.
“I told you,” Bentley replied. “That fucker is the devil.”
“You want to hold him, Mac?” Chad asked.
“Maybe next time,” I said, hesitantly reaching a finger out to touch him. His skin felt rough and leathery. I almost lost my balance from jumping when he suddenly moved his tail with my finger on him.
“That’s enough Sherman now,” Bentley said, catching me to steady me on my feet.
“All right, come on, Shermi, say bye,” Chad said, taking one of the iguana’s menacingly clawed limbs and pretending to wave.
He returned moments later, shocking me by giving me a bear hug before I left, sending my cane clattering to the floor. He retrieved it for me after giving me a pat on the head. “Come back again soon,” he said, sinking back down on the couch.
Bentley apologized a few times for Chad during the ride back to my dorm. “He has no social life,” he explained, finding an empty parking spot in front of my building.
“I liked him. You could have just dropped me off.”
“Friends drop each other off. Boyfriends walk their girlfriends inside.”
“Whoa, did I miss the memo?”
He climbed from the car without answering, jogging around to the passenger side to open my door. Holding out his hand to help me, he pulled me from the seat and placed his hands on my waist to face him. “Do you have a problem with that?” he teased.
“Hmmm, I don’t know. You’re awfully presumptuous.”
He quirked his eyebrow. “Maybe, but do you always kiss your friends like that?”
“Well, since I don’t have any friends . . .” I regretted the words as soon as I said them. I’m not even sure where the statement came from. Bentley looked completely shocked, like he’d mistakenly said something wrong.
“Mac, I’m sorry. I wasn’t saying—I mean. I wouldn’t do that.” He tripped over his own tongue, searching for an apology that wasn’t even necessary.
“No, Bentley, don’t. I’m the one who’s sorry. That was a bitch thing to say. I don’t even know why I said it. I knew what you meant.”
“Holy shit,” he said, taking me in his arms and dropping his lips to the sensitive skin by my ear. My head dropped to the side to give him easy access. “So does this mean the boyfriend-girlfriend thing is a yes?”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” I pulled away, taking a step backward. “You still have to admit, you were being pretty presumptuous.”
“Meaning?” he returned, wondering where I was going with this.
“Well, a girl likes to be asked.”
“Oh, of course. What was I thinking?” He got down on one knee as three people spilled out from the side door of the dorm that faced the parking lot. He took my hand. “Mac, will you be my girlfriend?”
“Say yes, say yes,” the trio shouted in unison as they laughed their way to their car.
“Get up, you fool.” I laughed, slapping Bentley on the arm.
“Not until you say yes.”
“Fine, yes.” Bentley rose to his feet and placed a long kiss on me that practically melted me from the inside out.
“Should I start doodling your name on my school folders?” I asked, my voice coming out as a croak as his mouth found my neck.
“I’d expect nothing less,” he said as his lips captured mine again.
fifteen
Bentley
“Yo, Bentley, did you make sure the rig was stocked up?” Steve asked, entering the staff break room, where I was drinking a Coke while waiting for my shift to end. The weekend had dragged, and I was ready to clock out and be done. I hadn’t seen Mac since Friday. We had texted and talked on the phone a few times, but it wasn’t the same thing. I’d say I was completely pussy-whipped, but even Chad had complained about her absence when I arrived home late last night after working a sixteen-hour shift.
“Like six hours ago,” I answered, looking at the clock on the wall, which seemed not to be moving. Today wouldn’t have been so bad if we had been called out a couple times, but with the exception of responding to a 911 call that turned out to be false, Steve and I had been sitting around all night twiddling our thumbs. At least now that midnight had come and gone, we were on the down side of my shift. Three hours to go and I would be home free.
“That’s right. Shit, I must be losing my mind. I swear these dead nights suck my brain cells.” He sat down at the round table across from me. “How about some cards?” he asked, plu
cking a deck out of his shirt pocket.
“Sure, as long as you don’t cheat this time.”
“Whatever. If anyone cheats, it’s you. No one can have the luck you have.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Speaking of which, how’s Jacob?” I asked as he shuffled the deck.
“According to Molly, he actually slept through the night last night. Maybe I can get a full night’s sleep in tonight.”
“You mean you won’t have to nudge Molly and tell her the baby needs her,” I quipped, looking at my cards.
“I’m going to regret telling you that, aren’t I?”
“Regret telling me that you make your poor exhausted wife get up every night with your baby? Most likely. You’re lucky my mom isn’t here to ream your ass. She’d have a field day with you. My dad can tell you stories about walking around all night holding me because I had colic or some shit like that when I was a baby. He and my mom both took turns.”
“Hey, Molly likes getting up with Jacob. She’s all about this mother thing.”
“Right? Because she doesn’t value her sleep as much as you do yours?”
“Damn, I’m starting to think you’re my mother. Fine, I’ll get up tonight with him if he wakes up. Now, can we please stop gabbing like a bunch of chicks and play some cards?”
“Just waiting on you, old man,” I ribbed him, looking at my cards.
“It’s about time,” he grumbled, looking at his own cards. “Do you have any eights?”
“Go fish.”
He looked at me hard for a moment before grabbing a card off the pile. “Ha,” he said, triumphantly holding up an eight he’d just drawn.
Rolling my eyes, I took my turn. We played a half-dozen hands of Go Fish, which was the only game of cards we ever played since Steve had struggled with gambling a few years ago. He quit cold turkey before he and Molly got married and she had given him an ultimatum: give up gambling or find someone else to warm his bed. He turned in his poker chips, but got to keep his lucky deck of cards as long as he promised never to use them for any game that involved betting.
The end of our shift couldn’t have come quick enough. We left with me reminding him that he owed Molly a night of sleep. He grudgingly agreed before heading toward his mommy minivan that Molly insisted they buy when Jacob arrived.
By the time I got home, I felt more exhausted than when we worked one of our busy shifts. I wanted to call Mac, but obviously she was sleeping. Instead, I sent her a text that she would see when she woke up.
The next day I slept in longer than I wanted to. I had only one class on Mondays, and it started in an hour. Mac had seen my text because I had a return message from her asking if we were still on for tonight. I had talked her into going to a UCF basketball game when I found out she hadn’t been to one yet. She grudgingly agreed to go after I bribed her with chocolate-covered pretzels, which I had learned were her weakness.
Later that afternoon, I grabbed my keys to head to Mac’s dorm, leaving a sour Chad at my apartment. He was grumbling that I couldn’t hog Mac every night. “Stop sleeping around and get your own girlfriend, dickhead.”
“Like that’s even a legit argument. Come on, bro,” he answered. Maybe he had a point, but it wasn’t like I was asking him to throw his Xbox out the window and run it over. I just wanted my girl to myself. Michael, who caught the tail end of our exchange, laughed as he headed out for his evening class.
Mac was waiting on a bench outside her dorm when I showed up ten minutes later. The arena was halfway between my apartment and her dorm, so it made no sense to drive and deal with the parking mess.
“Hey,” she said, looking a bit unsure as she stood up. She fidgeted with the thin strap of the small purse that crisscrossed her body. It was strange to see her without the typical backpack she normally carried everywhere. I liked it. The backpack always seemed to make her shoulders slump. I stopped in front of her.
“Hey, yourself.” She bit her lip at my close proximity. I cupped her face with my hands, tilting her chin up so I could be the one biting her lip. She sighed against my lips the moment they touched hers. It made me consider saying hell with the game and taking her back to my apartment and kicking Chad to the curb, so she and I could pick up what we had started a few nights ago.
I nipped on her bottom lip one last time before reluctantly pulling back. A few seconds longer and she would feel on her leg what I was thinking. “Ready to cheer on some Knights?”
“Sure,” she answered, still looking kiss-shocked.
I tucked her hand in the crook of my elbow so she could hold on to me. She asked me about my weekend as we walked. I found myself launching into a complete recap even though Steve and I had basically sat around. She was easy to talk to. The awkwardness that was inevitable in any new relationship was missing. With Mac, I didn’t feel like I had to say anything to try and impress her.
She tightened her grip on my elbow as the sidewalk around us filled up with more people heading in the same direction. A few guys pushed past us, obviously not satisfied with our pace. I gritted my teeth when they jostled Mac, making her stumble slightly.
“Are you okay?” I asked, glaring at the backs of the total pricks who were oblivious to anyone but themselves. As a rule I didn’t fight. It was my job to take care of people who were hurt, but at the moment, I wanted to shove my fist down their throats.
She looked at me questioningly and I realized I was clenching my fist. “I’m fine. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”
“What?” My voice was louder than usual and I noticed she flinched. I forced myself to bring it down a notch. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it,” I said, clenching my jaw.
She patted my arm like she needed to pacify me. “Bentley, it’s nothing to get worked up about. I move slower than the average person. Believe me, if I could walk normally and was in a hurry, I’d probably get frustrated walking behind someone as slow as me. No one likes to get behind the slowpoke.” She sounded okay, but I detected a trace of regret beneath those words. I wanted to pound the assholes into the ground.
“It freaking rips me up that you somehow think it’s your fault,” I said, handing over our tickets at our gate into the arena.
“I’m just being realistic,” she said as we took the programs handed to us.
I grumbled under my breath, but let the subject drop. Things didn’t get much better when I realized our seats were higher up the rows than I’d anticipated. I was the asshole. I forgot to even think about that when I bought the tickets.
Mac eyed the shallow steps like they were serpents ready to snap at her feet. I could have swept her up in my arms like I did at my apartment complex, but I couldn’t imagine her going for that.
“Let me see if I can get our seats switched,” I said, making a move toward the exit.
“It’s fine.” She stopped me, looking at the stairs with determination. “It’ll get me out of having to face the stair climber at physical therapy.”
“You still go to therapy?” I asked, supporting her as we climbed toward our row. A thin bead of sweat collected on her temple by the fifth step.
“Yep, a couple times a month. They’d like me to go more, but classes make it hard. We reached a compromise since I do so much walking around campus,” she answered, somewhat out of breath.
“Do you need to stop for a second?” We reached the eighth step, but she looked determined to continue.
“No, I’m okay. Only six more to go,” she said, counting along with the numbers on each row of seats.
The more she struggled, the more I felt like total pond scum. Mac was only putting herself through this because of me. I deserved a suitable punishment, like picking up Sherman and letting him pelt me in the face with his tail. Mac’s face when we reached our row made me feel slightly better. She beamed in triumph, looking so damn happy I couldn’t help placing a kiss on her smiling lips.
We found our seats, which were a pain to get to since they were in the middle o
f the row, which was hard for Mac because of her cane. I probably couldn’t have picked worse seats if I had tried.
“At least we’re in the middle,” she rationalized once we managed to get seated.
I raised my eyebrows in confusion. As dates went, this would go down in history as the worst ever.
“No matter what, I won’t have to stand up again. Anyone who has to go to the bathroom can go that way or that way,” she said, using her thumbs to point in both directions.
“How about some grub?” I asked, smiling at her reasoning.
“Sure, you want me to get it?”
“That would be great. I’ll take a couple dogs and some nachos.”
“You’re funny,” she said, flipping open her program.
“What would you like?” I laughed, standing up.
“Couple dogs and nachos.”
“Done.” I started down our aisle.
“I’m kidding,” she called after me. “I’ll take one hot dog and a Coke,” she added, holding up one finger.
The concession stand was pregame busy, causing me to miss tip-off by the time I made it back to our seats juggling the food. I handed Mac’s hot dog to her and set her drink on the floor at our feet. Squeezing her knee reassuringly, I unwrapped my first dog while balancing a second on my lap, along with nachos and extra cheese.
“You sure that’s enough?”
“At least till halftime.” I downed half the first hot dog in one bite.
“I assume you know what to do if you start choking?”
“Sure. That’s what the extra cheese is for. Just force it down my throat.”
“That’s gross,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
By the fourth quarter it was clear she was having fun by the way she cheered and shouted at the refs when a call didn’t go the Knights’ way. She remained seated, of course, but that didn’t stop her from being as loud as anyone else. It surprised me. It was the first time I’d seen her so animated.
“That was fun,” Mac proclaimed when the game ended.
“I’m glad you liked it. I’m surprised we didn’t get thrown out with all your colorful criticism of the refs.” I nudged her as we waited for the crowd to thin before we attempted to leave.