“I did not give them a show, Carrie,” I interrupt with a laugh. “Hell, I didn’t even know they were there.” She responds with a “pffft” sound and I don’t have a choice but to cave. “Okay fine. So I have a fan club.” Carrie’s face quickly changes to one of victory. I better explain myself quick. “I try not to think about it very often, because it’s weird. I mean, not like stalker weird. School bake sales are a little awkward, but they never cross a line. It’s part of the job,” I ramble. “I’m just working out…”
“With the door wide open.”
“It gets hot in here.”
“Shirtless.”
“Sometimes I have to give them what they want.”
I say it playfully, but from the look on her face I immediately know I’ve said the wrong thing.
Her shoulders drop, all the sass and gusto she had a few minutes ago evaporating before my eyes. “And that right there is why I don’t give men what they want.”
Is that what she thinks I want? To be like any other Joe Schmo walking the streets? Meet a girl and get her into bed? That’s so far from what I want it’s not even funny.
Turning, she steps back up into the doorway to the kitchen and then pauses. Is she waiting for me to respond? I need to respond. Shit.
“Carrie, wait.”
With her back ramrod straight, she doesn’t move, giving me a chance to say something.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I was just playing around with you. But beyond a wave here and there, I don’t engage with them when they walk by.”
Her back may be to me, but I see her relaxing. The tension in her back loosens before she spins to face me. Gone is the scowl and disappointment. Thank goodness.
“You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“That’s just it,” I begin. Taking a tentative step toward her, like she’s a skittish animal, my voice is low as I continue, “I do owe you an explanation. Because you laid all your cards on the table a couple weeks ago, now it’s my turn. I think we should go out again.”
“I’m sorry I accidentally friend-zoned you.”
She says it so fast, I’m not sure she even heard me ask her out. But I’ll take it. At least it starts an honest conversation between us. “You didn’t friend-zone me.”
“I didn’t?”
“Nope. Did you feel friend-zoned?” I ask before taking another step toward her.
When I’m in her space, I watch as her eyes slip from my face down my torso. It’s a slow perusal, one I don’t mind. When I’m close enough to touch her, I lift my hand to hers. She’s still gripping the coffee cup in her other hand, and I’m actually a little concerned she’s going to snap the handle right off with how white her knuckles are.
“I mean, kind of. No. Okay, I don’t know. What do I know Matthew? Until a few weeks ago, I thought you were a mindless model who spent his free time flexing in the mirror while he kissed his biceps and regularly slept with readers.”
Barking out a laugh, I squeeze her hand.
“We’ll get back to that presumption later. Just so we’re clear, I don’t feel friend-zoned, and I didn’t friend-zone you. Maybe a little surprised by your admission, but not enough for me to mark you off some invisible list of dating material.” She whacks me playfully on the chest. “And, before you ripped me a new asshole, I did ask you out again. What do you say?”
Chewing on her lower lip she shifts on her feet and then makes my entire day by nodding. Lifting her chin with my finger, I give her a slow smile, one that is strictly for her. I want to kiss her. The need is overwhelming. When her tongue slips between her lips, I take that as an invitation when a loud scream of excitement startles us both.
“Carrie! You’re still here! Yay! Where’s your crown? Let’s go find it!”
Laughing quietly, I drop my hand and wink at Carrie before Sprite shouts for her again and she scurries away. Like a squirrel.
Chapter 22
Carrie
It’s kind of chilly out, so I need to wear jeans. I could go with the distressed skinny ones that make my ass look like I do squats daily. Looking at them, I’m not quite sure I want to risk it. They’re getting kind of old and the purposely torn look is starting to tear not so purposely.
Oh! I could wear my new dark skinny jeans. Except they have an elastic waist. If my shirt rode up that could be embarrassing with a muffin top…
“Would you hurry up already?” Jamie yells from my bedroom, interrupting my internal dialogue as I slide the hangers back and forth trying to decide what to wear on my date tonight.
It’s not like I have a plethora of options. If we were going to a hospital or a costume party, I’d have lots of scrubs to choose from since that’s my normal work attire. But unless Matthew is the world’s worst date planner, I probably need to wear something a little nicer.
“This would be a whole lot easier if I knew where we were going,” I shout back through my closet door, holding up both pairs of pants to inspect, still running through the pros and cons of each.
“So text him and ask.”
Giving up on making the decision myself, I carry them both out to show Jamie the options. “I would, but that feels so… I don’t know… friend-zone.”
“Here we go again,” she mumbles and then points to the darker pair. “Those.”
Tossing them on the bed, I put my hands on my scantily clad hips. Fresh from the shower, I didn’t want to sweat through my clothes by putting them on before my hair is properly dry. Besides, I’m fully clothed in my under attire. Nothing Jamie hasn’t seen before.
“Listen here, Linda,” I start. Which makes Jamie roll her eyes and turn her attention back to Luke, who keeps attacking her hand and running away when she runs her fingers on the bed. “I am trying to put my best foot forward.”
“By spending hours trying to decide between two pair of jeans? Sounds like you’re neurotic, not getting prepared.”
I drop the tough guy act and plop down on the bed. Luke immediately attacks the towel on my head.
“I just don’t get it, James. He’s just so… so… everything. And I’m just so… me.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Reaching up to pet my squirrel, he dodges my reach then thinks better of it when I scratch behind his ears. Yep. Everyone has a price. Even wild animals.
“It just doesn’t make any sense. He could have anyone he wants, but he asked me on a date?” Jamie groans but I ignore her. “He knows I’m not giving up the goods, so what’s his angle?”
“Do you hear yourself?” Jamie chides and I turn to look at her. “There is no angle. He likes you. And I, for one, am getting sick of listening to you overanalyze.”
Just then, Luke pounces on my hand, his eyes go blank, and he falls over asleep.
“See?” Jamie says. “Even Luke is tired of hearing you second guess everything.”
I scoff. “He has a disability.”
“Or he’s sick of listening to you say the same things over and over again.” She smacks me on my bare leg, making me yelp. “He likes you, Carrie. There’s nothing weird or nefarious about it. Or at least there’s not at this point. If you continue with your crazy, he might change his mind. Obviously sex isn’t a deal breaker for him. Being certifiable might be, though.”
I sigh because she’s right. It’s been so long since I’ve gone on a second date, I don’t know what to expect, and that scares me. If this even is a second date. The concert was just a friends thing, wasn’t it?
Hell, I don’t know at this point. The only thing I do know is I’ve always heard that date number three is the date. If you go out that many times, it’s sort of an unspoken rule that sex is on the table. Which is why I usually don’t get past date number one. It doesn’t seem right for me to know with absolute certainty that no one is getting any orgasms for a long while and not let whoever I’m dating in on that. Once my motor gets running, it’s hard for me to stop, so I try not to even put the key in
the ignition. If it’s something that is going to cause problems, it’s better to know in advance so they can cut things off. And they always cut things off. Or ghost me. Usually ghost, but we all know why.
With Matthew, though, it seems like he’s okay with my self-imposed celibacy. No one has ever been okay with it before. That’s why I’m so stumped.
“Enough thinking,” Jamie announces and starts pushing me off the bed. “You don’t have time to sit around. He’ll be here in forty-five minutes. Do I need to feed Sven?”
Standing up, I look at the time. “Yeah. He could eat. Did you see his eyes are open?”
Jamie smiles widely. “I love this age. They’re so cute when they’re still all wobbly and fall over when they try to sit up on their back legs.”
“I know. This is when they start growing so fast, though. I’m glad he doesn’t need to eat every two hours anymore, but it’s sad thinking he’ll be out on his own in just a few weeks.” I push my bottom lip out in an overexaggerated pouty face.
“Not to worry. You’ll always have your buddy, Luke.” We both look over at him sleeping soundly on top of the wet towel that remained put when I stood up. “Do I need to put him back in his cage while I get Sven?”
“Nah. He’s usually out for a solid hour when he has an attack.”
Jamie shakes her head and grumbles, “Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” as she walks out of the room and to the kitchen, leaving me to my clothing dilemma.
•••
Deciding on the dark skinny jeans was cake compared to finding a top. Because of the elastic waist, I didn’t want it to be too tight. But most of my flowy tops are thinner material and it’s December. I’m naturally cold and need a sweater even when it’s fifty degrees out. No judgement. I may have grown up in New Jersey, but I’ve turned into a Texas girl. I’m not built for chilly weather.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a flowy sweater so I went with one of the aforementioned tops and a cute black leather jacket over it. It’s stylish, comfy, and keeps the elastic bulge from becoming too apparent.
The only thing left to figure out is shoes. Sadly, I don’t have time to drive Jamie nuts by trying on twelve different pair, as the doorbell just rang.
I race to the front, so Matthew isn’t stuck waiting outside, but somehow Jamie gets there first and is already letting him in. How the hell did she do that?
“Hey Matthew,” I say and his face lights up with a huge smile. I’ve got to admit, it’s nice knowing I put that look there and any residual nerves fade away. “This is my friend Jamie. Jamie, this is Matthew.”
They reach over to shake hands and without missing a beat Matthew says, “Oh yeah. I think you were twerking behind me when I saw you at the shelter.”
Jamie can’t hide her embarrassment as her face turns bright red.
“You saw that?” I ask through a laugh.
“No one has ever caught me before.” She seems stumped, and clearly rethinking every time she’s pulled that number on a customer.
Matthew winks at her, making her blush even more, which I find hilarious. “Well, the glass was pretty reflective that day.”
Jamie looks over at me, wide-eyed and I know what she’s thinking.
“You better stop making fun of the boss behind his back.”
She just nods, mouth still clamped shut. Seriously. I’ve never seen her so taken aback. It’s pretty amazing, actually.
Grabbing Sven from the towel pressed up against her very blotchy chest, I turn back to Matthew. “Before we go, I thought you might like to say hello to your son.”
Matthew’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning as he takes the baby squirrel out of my hands and begins talking to him. “Hey buddy. Look how big you are. And all that fur. You get your hairiness from your daddy, don’t you? Huh?”
I glance over at Jamie who’s looking at me with the same amused expression on her face.
“You seem to have gotten over your fear pretty easily,” I jest.
“It’s hard to be afraid of something so tiny and cute,” he says to Sven, not me. “You’re not a big, bad rodent like Luke are you? Huh? No. You’re still small and harmless.”
“And you guys were making fun of me for being the weird one?” Jamie whispers in my ear making me snicker. She’s not wrong. To an outsider, watching Matthew coo at a squirrel and call him his son could seem awfully strange.
“Wait.” Matthew suddenly looks up and begins looking around. “Luke isn’t out, is he?”
Oh boy. This could be fun. For me and Jamie, not Matthew.
“He is actually.”
Just as I suspected, Matthew’s eyes get huge and he starts inching backward toward the wall. I know Jamie is highly amused by this turn of events but tormenting the poor man before he takes me for steak and lobster is probably not the best of ideas.
“Relax, Matthew. He had an episode. He’s asleep on my bed.” He visibly relaxes and I gently take Sven back and hand him over to his babysitter. “Which means we need to leave before he wakes up, and since I don’t know where we’re going, you get to choose my shoes.” I pick up the two pair off the floor where I dropped them and show him. “I’ve got cute booties if we’re going somewhere sit down. Or if we’re going to be walking a lot and it’s more casual, Chucks.” I seesaw my arms so each pair goes up and down.
“I never told you where we’re going?”
“Nope. I’ve had one hell of a time figuring out what to wear because of it.”
“You can say that again,” Jamie grumbles and I shoot her a dirty look. No reason for him to know I’m off my rocker. Yet. That’s more like a fifth date admission.
“I don’t know a lot about women’s footwear unless you mean shoes that light up when you walk or Velcro.” I nod in understanding because I can see that. Throw in some princesses and I’m sure that’s most of what Calypso owns in the shoe department. “But I thought we’d go to Dave and Buster’s and try our hand at air hockey.”
I like this idea. “Chucks it is,” I announce and hop on one foot while trying to put the other shoe on. “But I’m warning you, buddy. I’m the queen of air hockey.”
He laughs and offers his arm to help steady me while I finish putting on my shoes. “Those are fightin’ words. And you need to know, I’m still the reigning Roberts champion from our last family reunion.”
Grabbing my purse and throwing it over my shoulder, I wave goodbye to Jamie who already promised to lock up when she leaves. “You don’t scare me. I’ve seen your competition. It’s easy to beat at least one of them when she can barely see over the top of the table.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Is that so?”
“Totally so.”
“Well then,” he says as he pulls the door closed behind him, “let’s do this.”
Chapter 23
Matthew
I consider myself an excellent air hockey player. I wasn’t kidding when I told Carrie that I’m the reigning champion in my family. That’s saying a lot because I have younger cousins who assume they’ll take me down at each family gathering. Cocky punks think playing drunken beer pong means they can do anything.
Taking in a deep breath, I grip the plastic paddle in my hand and lean down, eyeing the goal on the opposite end of the table. The cool air skirts across my skin as I exhale. Her giggle is distracting, but I won’t let it get me this time. She may be up three games to my zero, but this one is mine.
“I have faith in you. This one is going to make it.”
Growling, I shoot my gaze to my opponent. The huge smile on her face won’t get me this time. She giggles again and I wait. Wait for her eyes to close as those sweet giggles turn into a full belly laugh.
Three.
Two.
Shoot!
“And he scores! Victory is mine!”
Eyes wide, her laughter stops on a dime as she tosses her paddle onto the table. Hands on her hips she attempts to look offended by my win but that doesn’t last long when sh
e starts shaking her hips in a weird looking victory dance.
“You did it! I mean, I’m still the winner but good for you!”
Stepping around the table I approach her and lean against the table, arms crossed over my chest. With a quirked brow, I wait for her to finish her celebration dance.
“Thanks for the dance.”
“Anytime. So, what’s next? Skee-ball? Old school Pac-Man?”
“Food. I’m starving.”
Her face falls and I can’t help but laugh. Taking her little hand in mine, I tug her behind me. “Come on, if you’re nice I’ll let you eat more wings than me.”
“Oh, I do love a good chicken wing. How do you feel about dipping sauces?”
I weave us through the crowd toward the restaurant, her hand still in my possession. A group of women cross the path in front of us and I come to a quick stop to avoid running into them. Carrie stumbles into me, releasing my hand, which would suck but it doesn’t because both of her hands land on my back.
One of the women in the group stops, eyes wide as she looks at me. I know what’s coming as soon as her gaze floats across my body. This is my punishment for those college years when I was a ridiculous flirt and did the same thing to co-eds. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and exhale, about to offer up the smile the neighborhood ladies appreciate when that ridiculous laugh from Carrie overshadows even the sounds of the video games.
The straggling woman is pulled away by her friends as I spin on my heel to look at my date. She’s bent over laughing. And snorting.
“You about done?”
“She… they… you… ohmygod, I can’t breathe and I may pee my pants.”
Not responding, I slip my hands in the front pockets of my jeans while I wait. It’s only seconds but she stands, wiping the tears from her face and smiles up at me.
“It doesn’t matter where you go, does it? The cougars are everywhere.”
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