by Keary Taylor
“Sorry,” Kale says. There’s a hint of uncertainty there, but there’s still a heavy dose of mischief, too. “We were just…”
“Yeah, I know what you were just,” the cop says with annoyance in his voice. “If you two leave right now, I won’t write you up for trespassing.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I say. And there’s complete fear in my own.
I climb off of the swing, straightening my dress, and start for Kale’s car. One and a half seconds later, Kale jogs to my side.
“That was fun,” he says quietly, bumping his shoulder into mine.
“Maybe not so much the cop part,” I say as he opens my door for me. I slide into my seat and a few seconds later, so does Kale.
“The cop part just made the night more adventurous.” He starts the car and backs out of our parking spot. The cop eyes us as we roll back out to the street.
I give a breathy chuckle.
“Come on,” Kale says as he reaches over and pats my knee, sending a wave of goosebumps rippling out from that exact spot. “You can’t say you didn’t have fun tonight.”
I blush when I meet his eyes. Because they’re dancing, and alive, and excited. And the center of my chest warms. Because yes, I did have the time of my life tonight. Because I never expected someone like him to have that much fun with someone like me. “Okay, maybe.”
Kale just chuckles. As we pull onto the floating bridge that will lead into my city, he pats my leg again and leaves it there. And I love it.
CHAPTER THREE
I’m trying to figure out why there’s a pig wandering the halls of Evergreen Micro. A pig with green spots. A pig that I’m pretty sure was talking a few minutes ago with Henry’s voice, but everything’s a little misty and muddled.
But then there’s a knock down the hall. I ignore it, looking back at the pig. The knock sounds again.
“You going to get that?” the pig says.
And I jerk awake as another knock sounds through my apartment. I scramble from my bed, my hair falling in my eyes in crazy, messy waves. My hand closes around the doorknob, and still not really awake, I jerk it open.
“Morning.”
The cheerful voice jerks my brain into working order.
And there, standing in my doorway with a coffee in one hand, and a cup of orange juice in the other, is Kale.
“Hey,” I say, extremely confused. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too,” he chuckles.
“Sorry, I just…” I struggle for words. And find none.
He shakes his head and hands me the coffee. “It’s fine. I knew you weren’t expecting me at your doorstep.”
“Thank you,” I say, my hand closing around the hot cup. “You uh, you want to come in?”
“Thanks,” he says, stepping over the threshold.
I only just now realize what I’m wearing. Super short, silky shorts. A tank top. No bra. I’m also wearing no makeup. I’m kind of a mess right now. And it’s super embarrassing. But the damage has been done. Kale has seen me.
“Nice place,” Kale observes. “It’s an awesome view.” He indicates the window out the front room. It opens out over the lake, the sun bright.
“Yeah, I can’t really complain.” I stand there awkwardly in the middle of the living room. I’m debating excusing myself to go change and get ready for the day, but that would be rude to leave him here by himself considering he just got here.
“Relax, Whit,” he says with a small smile. “I’m not judging you for sleeping. You look fine.”
Just like he can read my mind.
But he just called me Whit. Like we’re close. Like we’re friends.
So instead of overthinking that, I chuckle and sink onto the couch on the opposite end from him.
“How are you up so early?” I ask, my eyes searching for the clock. It’s barely eight. “We were up until, like, two last night. You couldn’t have gotten home until close to three.”
Kale shrugs, taking a sip of his OJ. “I couldn’t really sleep last night. Finally I gave up. Went to the gym, showered. And here I am.”
His eyes lock on mine. There’s something deeper there than I think there should be. “Why?”
He takes a moment to answer. Just looks at me. Serious. “Because I had more fun last night with you in just a few hours than I’ve had in the past few years. I was kind of hoping you’d be down for a repeat.”
Now it’s my turn to take a while to find an answer. I don’t even notice the silly grin that has started spreading on my face. “Yeah,” I finally say. “I’d like that.”
And Kale’s face breaks out into a smile. His eyes dance. And his energy is contagious. “Heck yes,” he says. “I’ve got plans, so prepare yourself for a day of awesome.”
“Oh boy, I’m a little scared,” I chuckle.
“No need,” he says. He crosses to the kitchen and tosses his empty cup in the trash. “Now, I need to use your facilities, and then you can get ready to get rolling.”
I smile at his enthusiasm. “Bathroom’s just down the hall.”
I take another sip as Kale sets off for the restroom. And glance over my shoulder just as he heads in the wrong direction.
“Not that door!” I yell. But not before Kale is all the way into my bedroom.
“Holy shit,” Kale chuckles as I’m scrambling to get to him. What I plan to do—shove him out of my room, scratch his eyes out to erase what he’s just seen—I don’t know. “Didn’t know you were such a fan, Whit.”
“Holy crap, please leave,” I huff in embarrassment as I pull on the back of his shirt, trying to get around him in my doorway. “This is beyond humiliating.”
Because Kale’s eyes are locked on that poster I have of him. The signed one. Where he’s half-naked. Looking completely amazing.
“What?” he says through a laugh, glancing from the poster, to me, and back again. “Never! I mean, I’m flattered. This is a position of honor, and I’m thrilled to be placed on the walls of your home.”
“Shut up!” I squeal in humiliation as I place my hands on his chest—his glorious chest—and try to push him out of my room. “This is…gah! Just kill me now.”
“I don’t know why this is such a problem,” he keeps talking as he continues to try and suppress laughter. “You obviously worship me, so this should be the highlight of your life getting me here, in your home, wanting to spend the entire day with you.”
“I hate you, Kale McCain,” I say, trying not to laugh as well, as I finally manage to shove him out and slam the door in his face.
“This changes nothing, Whitney Ford,” he calls through my door. “You can’t get rid of me that easily! I’ll be waiting out here until you’re ready for the day of Kaleventure!”
And he does.
I take my time getting ready. Half hoping that he’ll give up and leave. Half hoping that I’ll recover from my embarrassment. Which I don’t. I’m pretty sure I’m still bright red when I walk out of my room twenty minutes later, dressed and ready for the day.
Kale doesn’t say anything. He just holds the door open, holds out a hand for me to grab, and winks at me.
I don’t say a whole lot as we climb into his car and we head for downtown. And I don’t have to. It seems that Kale is an expert in filling awkward silence with talk about anything and everything. I’m not even sure what he’s going off on, but a response doesn’t seem to be required.
Normally, by the eighteen hour mark of my past relationships, a guy is figuring out how ridiculous I am in a social setting. I’ve said too many awkward and weird things to ever recover, and he’s wishing me a nice life, never to be heard from again.
But here’s Kale, having been witness to all my Whitney glory, and he’s planned out an entire day together. He’s acting like he likes spending time with me. Acting like maybe he’d like to spend more time with me.
We spend the morning walking through Pikes Place Market. Eventually, I loosen up as we walk past the vendors. As women
come up to him asking for his autograph. As they ask for pictures with him. He takes it all in stride, like it’s no big deal. Then he always comes back to my side.
And we talk.
About nothing. About life. About stuff.
And it’s easy. And fun. And crazy. And awesome.
“You want to go up?” Kale asks as we walk down the pier toward the Ferris wheel.
“You know, this thing has been here for how many years now? And I’ve never been on it?” I say as I look up to the height of it. “And I live in Seattle.”
“Let’s go then,” Kale says with a smile, offering me his arm.
My heart flutters as I take it and we walk over to the ticket booth.
A warm breeze brushes through as we get into our gondola and start slowly working our way up as it fills.
“You know, I’ve been a lot of places over the last few years,” Kale says as we both look out the windows. “But there’s nowhere quite like Washington.”
I nod in agreement, even though I’ve never traveled far. But I know how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful state.
“So, did you go to school at UW?” he asks. His eyes come back to me, and he looks so genuinely interested, I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it.
“Still do,” I say, thinking of the semester starting in just a few weeks. “I have one more semester until I finish my master’s degree.”
“Masters?” he says in shock. “Holy…I knew you were smart, but a master’s degree is kind of intimidating.”
I laugh, my eyes falling away from his. “My parents are both doctors,” I say. “Of the scientific, PhD kind. That was just always the plan, for me to get one, too.”
“Sounds like you grew up with everything laid out,” Kale says. “Probably not too much spontaneity in your life.”
I look at him again and shake my head. “Not really. My parents are good people, but they’re the most type-A people you’ll ever meet.”
“Hanging out with someone like me must be stressful,” Kale chuckles. But it sounds unsure, maybe even uncomfortable. I don’t get that.
“Not at all,” I say, actually reaching out and touching his knee lightly. “It’s actually a really nice change of pace. I needed something to get me out of my rut. I’ve kind of been all work-study-be-obedient for the last, well…too long.”
“Well, I’m glad I could yank you out of your rut,” he says with a smile. He places his hand over mine. And doesn’t let go.
The day is amazing. There’s really no other way to describe it. We just bum around downtown Seattle all day. Talking, laughing. Just having fun.
Kale drops me off at home that night.
And then shows back up at my house Sunday evening.
I open the door to find him there on my doorstep.
“I’ve got an idea,” he says, mischief in his eyes.
“I’m starting to like your ideas,” I say as I lean in the doorway.
“You’re going to love this one,” he says. “Maybe. Go get your guitar, and let’s go.”
Oh crap. I spoke too soon. “No.”
“No?” he says, laughing. “Come on. You don’t even know what I have planned.”
“I can imagine, maybe, and I have to disagree. I don’t think I’m going to love it.”
“It’s going to be awesome, I promise,” he says, placing his hands on my arms. Which of course sends crazy goosebumps across my entire body. “Just…go get your guitar.”
He holds my eyes for a long moment, and in them, I see a promise. That he’ll never let me fall. That he’ll never let me down, or make a fool of myself, or judge me if I do make a fool of myself.
“Fine,” I say, even as the smile grows on my face.
Five minutes later, we’re back in his car, leaving my little, sad, old truck still on the curb. Kale points us in the direction of downtown once again.
We drive deeper into the heart of the city. There are still a lot of people milling about since it’s a Sunday night and still a comfortable seventy degrees, according to the temperature reading on Kale’s dash.
We park in the Pacific Place shopping mall parking garage. “Come on,” Kale says excitedly as we climb out of the car. He pops the trunk and pulls out my guitar.
“Kale,” I say, stopping in my tracks. “I don’t think…”
“Trust me,” Kale says, turning his eyes on me. There’s excitement there, and adventure, and genuineness. His eyes are begging me to be bold and brave.
Somehow, Kale keeps pulling something out of me that I always wanted to be there, but was always lacking.
“Just trust me,” he says again.
The breath catches in my throat, my heart thunders and crashes like Eduardo’s drum kit.
“Okay,” I breathe.
The smile that Kale gives me is something worthy of a song.
And then he takes my hand in his, and the two of us run back out toward the street.
“I can’t breathe in this get up,” Kale says as we start checking doors to the mall. It’s only then that I realize that he’s wearing a suit.
“Why are you all dressed up?” I ask.
“Was at the wake of one of our old neighbors this afternoon,” he says. There isn’t much sadness in his voice. They must not have been too close.
It makes me smile that he didn’t even take the time to go home and change before heading straight to my apartment.
But all the doors to the mall are locked since it’s nearly ten o’clock. Kale has already undone half his buttons on his white shirt. I am so not complaining.
“What about that place?” I ask, pointing to a little boutique shop across the street.
“Perfect,” he says with a smile.
And never once dropping my hand, we dart across the street. But just as we get to the door, a shop worker appears and turns the open sign to closed.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Kale says in a stuttered hurry. He pushes the door open just a crack, and an annoyed looking guy wearing huge hipster glasses glares at us.
“We just need to grab a few things real quick,” Kale says, trying to push the door open a bit further. “I’ve got cash and everything. You don’t even have to give me change back.”
“Sorry man, we’re closed,” they guy says in a nasally voice.
“Look, do you know who I am?” Kale says, his voice sounding desperate. “Look across the street and tell me you don’t want me wearing your Podunk brand clothes?”
The guy’s eyes dart to the mall across the street.
And there, huge and nearly-naked as can be, is a gigantic poster of Kale under the Shurrock & Fantasy sign. He’s wearing suit pants and a white button up shirt that is completely unbuttoned. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He holds a pair of sunglasses above his head, like he’s taking them off.
He’s dressed much like he is right now.
The shop owner looks between the poster, and Kale, and back again.
“You’ve got ten minutes,” he says. I can’t tell if his voice is in awe or still annoyed. A mix of both.
“Thank you,” Kale says, annoyance in his own voice. That’s obvious.
We dart into the shop and the second the door closes behind us, Kale peels off his shirt and flings it across a clothing rack.
H. O. L. Y.
Shirtless Kale. Right here. Inches from me.
Blissful sigh.
“What do you think of this?” Kale asks, holding up a white T-shirt with a grayscale tiger mid-roar.
“Great,” I squeak out. I’m barely looking at the shirt. I’m searing for his abs behind the cursed piece of fabric.
“Hey, Whit,” Kale says. “My eyes are up here.”
“I…” I stutter, completely humiliated at getting called out. “I wasn’t…”
Kale breaks out in a laugh. “Just kidding. But yeah, you were. I’m not complaining.”
“I’m just going to go walk out into traffic now,” I say as I turn and head for the door.
Suddenly, Kale’s hand wraps around my arm and he pulls me back around. “Please don’t,” he says through is huge smile. “Sorry, I’m just being me. For some people that’s a little much. Why you don’t you pick something out? My treat?”
I just look at him, completely at a loss for words. This entire day has been indescribable.
“Seven minutes,” the hipster guy says.
“Fine,” I say, breaking away from Kale to search for something to change into.
I settle on a white dress with these little pink flowers and a denim vest. We both change into our new outfits in the changing rooms and Kale pays for everything at the counter. The second we walk out the door, I hear the lock click behind us.
“Now what, Mr. Fancy Rich Pants?” I ask as I shift my guitar from one hand to another.
“Hey, you got some of that red lipstick on you?” he asks, looking back at me with that lopsided smile. I nod. “Let me see.”
I give him an unsure look and dig it out of my bag. He takes it, and to my surprise, starts applying it to my lips. “Guess you learned some tricks in all your time in the makeup chair,” I tease him when he caps the lipstick and hands it back.
“You have no idea. Now we make some magic happen,” he says as he raises that eyebrow at me. Once again, he takes my hand, and we dart back across the street.
Kale walks fast and with purpose. He’s excited about whatever he has in mind. We walk about a hundred yards, and then he stops right in front of that poster of his face.
“Videos of people with well-known faces tend to blow up fast online,” Kale says as he pulls his phone out. “You really want to be a musician?”
“Uh, maybe?” I ask, my stomach a swarm of butterflies. Kale’s excitement is contagious, but it’s also a lot terrifying.
“Life is too short, Whitney,” he says with a grin. “There is no time for maybe. Do you want this?”
“Yes,” I say with a laugh, unable to hold him at bay. “I really do.”
“Start thinking of your favorite original song to sing,” he says with a wink.
And not waiting a second longer, he turns his phone on and pulls up the video recording app.