Hangry

by Lily Kate

  “Hey, talk to me.” My hands come up and rest on her shoulders, and it’s almost like no time has passed at all. “Don’t you remember when Jimmy Schroeder dumped you in seventh grade? You cried to me for hours about it. What’s so different now?”

  “What is so different?” she asks, her eyes shining as she looks up at me. “Why are things different between us?”

  I raise a hand, brush a thumb over her cheek. “They don’t have to be.”

  Apparently, this is the wrong thing to say because her back straightens, she stands up taller, and steps back. “Yes, apparently they do.”

  “Why’d you come here today?”

  She blinks, as if the question is a confusing one. “I don’t know.”

  I move around her, gather the papers, and shove them under the couch cushion. Then I sit on the couch, daring her to reach for the papers. She would have to go through me to get to them. Let her try.

  “You get angry, or upset, or nervous, right?” Lexi’s clearly back onto this whole burning off steam thing that’s bothering her. “How do you get rid of that? You know, decompress from your stress?”

  “How do I burn off steam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I go to the gym.”

  “I hate the gym,” she says. “The only time you can plan on seeing me running is if I’m being chased. Or if there’s coffee. I might run for the right latte.”

  I stifle a smile at her blatant honesty. I don’t know how the woman manages to look the way she does without the gym. Despite her petite frame, there are plenty of curves to make a man go wild. I should know—I’m a man, and I’m looking at her now. We’re alone in my apartment, and if this conversation were going any differently, I’d be looking to take things into the bedroom real fast. Or the couch. Or the dining room table. Whatever she preferred.

  “I work out in the gym,” I clarify. “But if you don’t like getting a workout in the gym, I can think of other ways to get your heart rate up.”

  I wink at her, my point coming across. I’m sure she gets it because she lets out a groan, as if it’s a bad joke.

  “Besides sex,” she says. “I need something else.”

  “What’s wrong with sex?”

  “Uh, besides the fact it’s best with another person? Nothing.”

  “There are ways to take care of yourself. Please tell me you know this.”

  Her jaw is hanging so far open that it nearly hits her chest. “Of course I know how to give myself an orgasm. That’s not the point. I’m trying to prove to Sasha and Kitty that there are other ways of releasing stress.”

  I lost the second half of what she said because I’m too focused on the word orgasm. Her mouth puckered into the cutest little ‘o’, her voice rising along with her frustration. A pinkish tinge lands on her cheeks as she works herself into a tizzy.

  She’s not the only one losing control, though. It’s a good thing I’ve got on real pants because if not, we’d have an awkward situation on our hands.

  “You’re not even listening to me!” She crosses her arms. “You’re thinking about sex.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Fine. You’re no help. I’m leaving.”

  “Wait—” I rise, reaching for Lexi’s hand. I catch it before she can take a step toward the door, and she rebounds so quickly she curls right into my arms.

  I hold her for a second, my hands grasping her shoulders, her curvy waist pressed against me. She inhales a sharp gasp, but she doesn’t look away.

  “Why’d you really come here today?” I lean close to her, my breath teasing across her ear. “You came here to ask about blowing off steam and dismissed the gym. You blush, or get all defensive, the second I mention sex.”

  “Because I didn’t come here to sleep with you. I came here to—”

  “Spy on my fridge?”

  “Sorry.” She has the decency to cringe and look sheepish. “I was in a rage.”

  “My poor fridge. I swear it’s not always empty.”

  “It’s not empty. I definitely saw a bottle of ketchup.”

  “To be fair, the bottle of ketchup is empty.”

  She smiles and eases from the battle, if just slightly. Then, with a second punch, she hits me when I’m not ready. “Why haven’t you called me?”

  “I, uh—”

  “Did I do something so horrible that you changed your mind from the elevator until now? It’s been a month, Bradley.”

  At first I’m stunned. With her words, I realize I’m not the only one counting the days. Then, I realize how ridiculous this whole situation is. I throw my head back and laugh.

  Her piercing green eyes land on me, sharp and clever, and I know there’s no hope in my lying to her. So, I shut up and stop laughing.

  The problem is that I don’t know what to say, or how to tell her that I’ve been thinking about her nonstop for a month—hell, I’ve been thinking about this moment since the day I moved in across the hall from her—and the pressure is astronomical to make our date right.

  But if I tell her all that, I’ll sound like a lunatic and blow my chance with her before we even get started.

  “Listen,” I say, finally finding her gaze.

  She didn’t laugh with me—probably because she doesn’t get the joke. Which is my fault since she’s not a mind reader. A flash of hurt appears in her eyes, and I immediately feel worse.

  “Forget it,” she says, taking a step toward the door. “I shouldn’t have come. Sorry about everything.”

  “Sit,” I instruct.

  To my surprise, she listens. Maybe it came out sharper than intended because she also goes quiet.

  “I’m really sorry,” I say, and at least that part is honest. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “I mean it, Lex.” I sit down on the couch opposite her. “I still do want to take you out on a date. I promise.”

  “You don’t have to say that. I can handle it if you’ve lost interest.”

  “No, that’s not it at all. I’m very interested.” I fight back the awkwardness at how forward that is, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Trust me. You’re still up for it?”

  “A deal’s a deal.”

  “You don’t have to follow through if you don’t want to.” I lean against the couch, slightly horrified at myself. I’d suggested the deal in the first place as a joke, a light-hearted way to get Lexi Monroe back in my life. I’d never imagined she’d take it like...well, like a threat.

  These last three years have been too long, and I’m afraid too much time has passed to bring things back to the way they were. But I’d regret it until the day I died if I didn’t give it a try. She may not want to date me, and that’s fine—maybe we can settle for friends. After all, that worked for us for the past several decades, why not the next few?

  She runs a hand through her hair and starts to worry me until she offers a shy smile through her frustration. “No, I... I think I’d like to go.”

  It’s difficult to control the urges running through me at her words, her smile. I want to swipe the coffee table out of the way and go to her. Kiss her, taste her, help her burn off some steam... if she’s interested.

  “But!” She raises a finger, then points it toward me. “There’s an expiration date. You have another month, or the deal’s off.”

  “Understood.”

  “Unless—shit. Is everything okay?” Her eyes widen, then darken with concern. “We can postpone if you need, or if you have something going on. I swear I’m not a monster despite my nutso rampage in here today. Are your parents fine?”

  “My parents are fine, but my poor fridge will never be the same.”

  Her next smile leads us to an almost pleasant moment, a truce of sorts. I’m reminded of old times, but again, there are threads of something else in this room. I’m suddenly self-conscious about how I look. I still have no shirt on, and my hair’s a mess. Since when have I cared about my idiotic hair?

  After all, Lexi
has seen me in far worse—pretty damn close to nothing. We popped our skinny-dipping cherries together during her freshmen year of high school, and the night is seared into my memory as the night I realized Lexi was female.

  Who knew she had boobs? Nice ones, too, if I remember correctly. I had tried not to look at her differently after my epiphany about her being a woman. I’d looked at her butt shortly thereafter, however, and her brother had caught my wandering eyes. Lucas had made me pay for it with a fist to the mouth, and I’d given up any hopes of ever trying that again.

  Damn it. Now my eyes are beginning to stray.

  They’re straying right back to her shirt, a bright blue, pretty thing that’s almost glued to her body. The end of the v-neck falls gently over her chest confirming that yes, she’s still a woman.

  And yes, she’s even more beautiful than ever before.

  “Are you checking me out?” she asks, a sly smile creeping over her face. “I never thought I’d have to tell you this, Bradley Hamilton, but my face is up here.”

  I’m not shy by nature, but I want to crawl into a hole when she thumbs at her eyeballs. Talk about needing to blow off steam—I’ll be at the gym for the next six hours trying to undo the last five minutes. “No, you have... something on your shirt. Why did you come here today?”

  “Excellent change in subject. You’re just as smooth as ever.”

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to talk. What’d my fridge do to you?”

  Lexi glances guiltily at the kitchen. “I’m sorry. My diner’s not doing as well as I’d like it to, and I freaked out.”

  A small chunk of my happiness deflates, pops like a balloon and fizzles to nothing. Here I was thinking that I’d been the entire reason for her rage. That she cares so much about our date and my lack of communication she worked herself into a fit of rage and stormed my apartment.

  I couldn’t have been further from the truth. I feel like an idiot with my lists, my daydreams, the way I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. Clearly, it’s a one-sided relationship.

  I’m not used to being the infatuated one—during my golden years with the Stars, Lucas and I had our choice of ladies. Every night of the week, if we wanted.

  I never wanted that, and I didn’t take those women up on their offers, but it had been nice to know I was in demand. Over these last few years, my demand has plummeted, and it’s done a number on my ego.

  Now, I’m the idiot who’s fantasizing over a relationship that’ll never happen. There’s a reason it hasn’t happened between Lexi and I yet—we’ve had every opportunity to make it work. We went to prom together, and most of our high school dances... as friends.

  If she’d ever wanted something more, I would’ve known by now.

  I do my best to shake off the sting, to sweep the problem under the rug like I do best. I put on a sympathetic expression and do what friends do—I listen. Lexi’s already gotten started explaining, and because of my wandering brain, I’ve missed half of it.

  “...going to raise rent, and—”

  “Why are they raising your rent again? Sorry, I was thinking.”

  She blinks, as if debating whether or not she should be offended I missed the conversation. “I don’t know it for a fact—I’m going to call my landlord tonight and try to find out what’s going on. I’m worried because today there were two people at the diner who are in real estate, and they were asking questions about my place.”

  “How’d you know they were in real estate?”

  “Kitty seduced them and forced them to tell her.”

  “Ah.”

  I’ve never quite understood the appeal of Kitty, but she works for most men. Even Lucas has had a thing for her ever since Lexi brought her home for Thanksgiving.

  No, Kitty doesn’t do it for me. My ‘thing’ looks a lot like Lexi Monroe, and if I know what’s good for me, I’ll do my best to change that. If I don’t, I’ll go insane being her male best friend for life.

  “She didn’t seduce them, just... had coffee with them.” Lexi shakes her head as if the entire situation is alien to her. “I don’t get how she does it. Maybe if I was more like her, my business wouldn’t be going under.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  The word came out before I could think, and now I’m stuck trying to backtrack and make sense of it. “No... that wouldn’t help anything. I think you’re great just the way you are.”

  She squints at me, as if it’s a trick. Finally, she adds a cautious question. “Really?”

  “Really.” I turn back to business because it’s the only safe zone at the moment. “You’ve got an excellent sense of business, and you run a tight ship. Can you imagine if Kitty ran a business? The hours would fluctuate daily... on the days she felt like showing up. It’d be a disaster.”

  Her face falls a little, and I feel like shoving my foot in my mouth. I thought that’d be a compliment, but I guess I offended her and her friend. Any chance of our date being a success is slipping away, carried further and further downwind with each passing word.

  “Right. Business. But if I looked like Kitty, maybe people would come back,” she says. “She just draws people to her. I must repel them.”

  “Nope, no. I can say for a fact that you don’t do that.”

  “You can’t talk, Bradley!” She crosses her arms. “You haven’t spoken to me for three years.”

  “It’s a two-way street. You could’ve knocked on my damn door any one of those days, and I would’ve answered it.”

  “You’re the one who pushed everyone away after your injury. I tried to talk to you. I tried my best.”

  “Did you?” I’m lost in the fight, the words pouring out of me. “Did you ever stop to think I lashed out because I was injured and fucking pissed? In one day, I lost my passion, my career, and my best friends.”

  “You didn’t have to lose your best friends. You withdrew until we couldn’t get through to you anymore.”

  “I’m sorry, then. This is all my fault.”

  “No, Bradley, I’m sorry. I didn’t come over here to yell at you today.” Her hand reaches out, tentative, and takes mine in it. “I went into panic mode because I thought I might be losing my business. I came over here because... I didn’t know anywhere else to go. Kitty and Sasha are great, but I just needed...”

  I want her to finish the sentence, to say she needed me. To talk to me, to run things past me like we used to do. Before all this.

  “I’m sorry,” she says instead. “I should’ve been more sensitive. Here I am complaining about losing my business when you already lost your career.”

  “It’s fine,” I growl.

  “What happened between us?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past.”

  “Sure it does.”

  “That’s not what this is about. Do you think your landlord will sell?”

  She’s startled by the change in subject; I can see it in her eyes. But she swallows, moves forward, and we ignore the past once more. “He’s getting older, nearing retirement. I think the chances are high.”

  “How much of a rent increase can you afford?”

  “Zero.” She wrings her hands, the root of the problem finally weaseling its way out. “We’ve been short on customers the last few months. Can’t seem to retain them, and I don’t know why. Our prices are cheap, food is good—and I mean it; I’m not just saying that. We’re rated five stars on Yelp.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “I mean, I know the food is good.”

  “How can you know? You’ve never stepped foot in the place.”

  I bite my lip at this. I’ve driven by Minnie’s a hundred times, each time more difficult than the last. I’ve stopped in front of it twenty times over the last few years and tried to convince my feet to walk over the threshold and to the counter. To offer two simple words. An apology, and then a breakfast order.

  Each time, though, I caught a glimpse of her face just before I stepped
foot through that door. She’s always looked so peaceful, so at home there. Smiling pleasantly at her customers, laughing with her staff.

  The image looked so wonderful, I couldn’t bear to ruin it—and if she’d seen me, there’s no doubt the smile would’ve crumbled from her lips, and her eyes would’ve filled with hurt.

  That’s why I left, time and time again. My heart pulled me inside, yet my brain walked me away. Probably best to listen to the brain. Less complicated than matters of the heart.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says, sparing me an answer with the shake of her head. “I know our food is good. Our staff is friendly, usually. Except when I turn into the monster boss.”

  “You’re not a monster boss.”

  “I yelled at my employee today.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “He skips half his shifts because he’s talking on the phone in the alley.”

  “First of all, I doubt you yelled.” I smile at her, trying to offer a burst of lightness to the moment. “You saved all of your yelling for me. Now if we could just work out this burning off steam thing together, we could really make for a great team.”

  “Are you talking about sex again?”

  “I was talking about the gym, but sex could be arranged.”

  She wrinkles her nose, but her eyes are teasing.

  “Lex, listen. I haven’t been to your diner yet, but that doesn’t matter. First of all, your employee is lucky you talked to him and didn’t fire his ass.” We’re sitting so close to each other on the couch now that I can’t focus anywhere else except her eyes. Bright green gemstones watching me, waiting for the words that’ll make everything better. “I highly doubt you yelled at him. Probably asked him to go back to work?”

  “Yeah, sort of, with a bit of a raised voice. I was stressed.”

  “Fair.”

  “I’m a horrible boss, and my business is just barely making money, and—”

  “And you love what you do,” I finish.

  This stops her in her tracks. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Everything.” I rest my hands on my legs, otherwise I’ll be too tempted to reach out and touch her. Hold her hand, kiss her lips, all of those other things that shouldn’t be crossing my mind at the moment. “It’s not a job for you, and that’s why you’re a great boss. You run a great business. Most people fail in their first business ventures. Three years in and you’re turning a profit. I’d say that’s not too bad.”