My phone chimes and I pull it out of my back pocket. My finger hovers over the screen, hesitant. I’m fairly good at compartmentalizing my life, so I haven’t given much thought to Peter, but his text brings him bubbling to the surface.
Going to be out of town for a few nights. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Do you need anything? –Peter
I switch apps on my phone, checking my bank account, gauging how far I can make it stretch. It’s been slowly dwindling since Peter’s been flaky lately, but I think I can make it another week or two if I count my tips. It’ll give me more time to let whatever this is with Kip run its course. I reply and peer down at Kip.
He’s standing with his hands on his hips as he listens to Brandon explain something, nodding at whatever he’s saying. I smile at how serious his face is. I’ve known Kip for close to ten years and he’s always carried himself with an air of severity, everything deserving of careful thought and consideration.
He looks up and catches me staring, a small smile playing on his lips. “What?”
Brandon stops talking, following Kip’s direction, but I don’t take my eyes off of Kip. “You must install a shower, non-negotiable.”
A smile spreads across his face, enhancing the rough lines around his mouth. “What about a bathtub?”
I shrug. “I prefer showers.”
This makes him happy. Kip signs some papers for Brandon to turn in a proposal to the buyer, and Kip should be expecting a phone call sometime within the next few days. Kip is outright smiling as we say our goodbyes, and it doesn’t dissipate as we get into the truck.
“You’re going to have to come up with a name,” I say after we leave.
He nods. “One thing at a time. We don’t even know if they’ll accept my offer.”
“It’s a cash sell and over their payoff amount, Kip. They’re going to take it. They’d be stupid not to.”
He smiles because he knows I’m right, but ever the realist, he won’t get his hopes up until it’s set in stone.
We drive for a little while when he says, “Vanilla, chocolate, or red velvet?”
Caught off guard, I shake my head. “None. Bananas foster. Why?”
“Cupcakes,” he answers as he points at a building and turns into the parking lot. I laugh as my eyes land on a bakery adorned with a large cupcake sign with an arrow pointing toward the door. He buys me a half-dozen of my favorite cupcakes and eats almost all of them as he waits for me to get my toes done at a nearby spa, and I reward him by using the remaining icing during foreplay.
“ONE HOUR,” JANINE ENUNCIATES, holding up her index finger just in case I don’t understand English or something. “If you’re one minute late, I’m writing you up.”
I hide my eye roll behind José, our fry cook. “I won’t be late.”
“Mm hmm,” Janine murmurs.
José purses his lips. He isn’t buying my shit either. I thank him for making me a last-minute lunch, blowing him a kiss as I leave. He doesn’t find me the least bit entertaining and shakes his head in Janine’s direction. I’m positive he’s attempted to get me fired in multiple occasions, today probably being one of them.
I strap the to-go bag onto the rack Kip installed on the front of my bike after I complained about carrying my purse. I never thought I’d be this person. The person who rides a bike in the city. I was the last thing from envious when I’d watch people brave the cold of winter, rain of spring, and heat of summer to commute to and from work, biking through the streets. It didn’t make sense. Not to mention the issue of the absolute chance of a hair catastrophe. No one escapes a bike ride with unscathed hair.
But here I am, pulling on a baseball cap to shield my eyes from the sun, more worried about my hair whipping into my eyes every time I have to look over my shoulder. I ride on the left side of the bike lane when passing parallel parking, cautious of running into a sudden door opening on the chance someone is exiting their car. Between drivers who think the bike lane is actually extra parking space, the occasional yappy dog, and construction, I’ve managed to become the epitome of every motorist’s nightmare. I’ll take up an entire driving lane if I have to.
Kip closed on the shop fairly quick. Cash sales apparently close faster than either of us realized, but Kip wasted zero time getting to working on fixing the space up. So much so, we’ve barely seen each other. This past week made me catch on to the fact Kip is the main instigator in our…friendship. Without him dropping by unannounced or forcing me along with his plans, we don’t see each other. I’m used to being alone, but Kip makes alone a whole lot less interesting.
There’s a barrage of vehicles parked in front of the building and a plumber holds the door for me as I push my bike inside. I have a better understanding as to why he’s been so MIA. The amount of work he’s already done is remarkable. Bay doors have been installed on the wall facing the street, and the front is framed to separate the lobby from the work area. In the loft, workers are putting up sheetrock, creating a definable apartment.
Spotting Kip, I heft my bike over the heads of some guys eating lunch on the concrete floor. There’s a car lifted up off the ground amid the disarray, new tools scattered across the floor beneath it. I silently observe as Kip removes the last tire and stands. His overalls are undone, gathered around his waist, leaving his white undershirt marred with grease. He has a tire in each hand when he makes eye contact with me, and he smiles, dropping the weight in his hands.
“What are you doing here,” he says, wiping his hands on his shirt before kissing me.
I make a yakking noise and wipe my mouth. “You taste like dead seaweed and salt.”
He smiles, eyes crinkling. “Sweat, babe. It’s sweat.”
Kip’s term of endearment catches me off guard. He’s not the type to use nicknames lightly, let alone something affectionate.
“I brought you lunch,” I say, untying the bag of food from the bike and holding it up.
“Thank Jesus.” He snatches the bag from my hand, opening it and peering inside. “I’m so hungry, I was about to eat my left arm.” Unraveling the club sandwich, he takes a humungous bite.
“You already have a customer?”
His eyes follow mine to the car. “Lilly had a friend who needed her rotors replaced, so I’m just doing a small side job for her.” He looks up at the loft. “Want to take a look at the apartment?”
I take his outstretched hand as we navigate through the workers. “This is happening so fast,” I say.
“I need to have income coming in at some point, and it’s going to take a while to get everything up and ready, so why wait?”
We ascend the steps and Kip takes a step back when we reach the landing, allowing me the room to look around. The front of the loft is already sectioned off so the apartment isn’t visible from the stairs. There’s a small door to the left that leads to an open floor plan. There’s a more definable area showcasing where the living room and kitchen will be, and the back wall is getting framed to extend the bathroom a few feet. It’s lacking all of the details, but I can already find Kip in it. It’s where he’ll finally feel at home.
I smile. “This looks great, Kip.”
“It’s a rough start, but it has potential,” he says. Taking the last bite of his lunch, he tosses the wrap into a garbage can, retrieving a beer from the refrigerator.
“You have an entire case of beer but no food, and you’re starving?”
He takes a long drag of the bottle, leaning his hip against the door. “Got to stay hydrated,” he says. “Do you want one?”
“No thanks. I still have to finish my shift. Plus, I hate beer.”
He gives me a confused look. “You love beer.”
I slowly shake my head. “No, I don’t.”
“But,” he trails off, trying to put pieces together. “You always drank all of my beer.”
My eyes widen when I figure out what he’s talking about. And then I laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
“What the hell are you lau
ghing at?” He’s smiling but still absolutely perplexed by my laughter.
“I have a confession to make,” I say, finally getting the chance to reveal something I’ve been holding on to for years. “Remember how mad you’d get when you came home and had no beer?”
He nods his head slightly, wondering what I’m getting at.
“I never actually drank them.”
“You didn’t?”
I shake my head.
“So…what did you do with them?”
I suck air through my teeth, letting the anticipation build. “I poured them out.”
For a moment, he doesn’t move, or blink, or even breathe for that matter. “You poured them out,” he reiterates, making sure he heard me right. “My beer?”
“Yup.”
He blinks. And blinks again.
“For years, I came home to find all my beer gone, and you were just pouring them out?”
I nod, unable to stop my smile.
He finishes the beer in his hand and slams it down on the counter. “I worked an extra hour almost every day so I could afford that shitty six-pack of beer, and all the while, you were fucking pouring them out.” He’s genuinely irked by the revelation.
“The way you keep repeating it is actually starting to make me feel a little guilty.”
“I—why would you do that?”
“You kept telling Lilly how bad of an influence I was, and it kind of got under my skin…a little.”
“You were a bad influence,” he affirms, throwing his arms in the air. “You kept drinking all of my beer!”
“I really didn’t know it would be such a big deal.” The whine in my voice makes me feel like a child who got caught eating cookies before dinner. But I couldn’t help myself.
He shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
This is the Kip I remember. The Kip with control issues and zero patience.
He side-eyes my reaction. “Why are you smiling?”
“You’re doing that thing,” I explain. “Where you try so hard not to smile but can’t help it.”
He looks me straight in the face and says, “I’m not smiling.”
“Not with your mouth—no—but with your eyes. You secretly think I’m hilarious.”
He tries so hard to keep his face neutral, but ultimately, eventually, a smile creeps through. I lift my arms above my head in triumphant celebration.
“Come here,” he demands, pulling me to his chest, a look of admiration and reproach at the same time. He leans his back against the fridge, positioning my body between his legs. I try to ignore all of the eyes in the room, but I catch a few workers glancing in our direction. They watched Kip and I go from arguing to cuddling in a span of minutes, and by the expression on their faces, it’s weirder from an outsider’s perspective.
Kip catches on to my mood because he asks the workers to take a break. He waits for them all to leave before he says, “What are you thinking?”
“I think it’s perfect for you.”
His smile cuts to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “That was strategically sardonic.”
“Not at all,” I assure him. “This is where you’re meant to be.”
“Then why does it sound like you’re telling me something I don’t want to hear?”
I run my hands over his hair, starting at his temples and continuing down the back of his neck. I can barely catch the length of it between my fingers. “Are you going to let your hair grow long again?” I say, changing the subject
He closes his eyes. “Mm, depends.”
“On?”
“Whether or not you stop scratching my head.”
I laugh and graze the hair at the base of his neck.
“Do you want me to grow it out?”
I shrug. “I like it short. Or long. It doesn’t really matter to me.”
His hands ravel around my waist, dipping toward the curve of my back, sinking into the waistband of my shorts. “How long do you have before you have to be at work?”
“My break is an hour, but I need to leave in time to ride back.”
He palms my backside, smiling as I scratch the hair around his temples. “I can give you a lift back. It’s the least I can do since you brought me lunch.”
“That’s right,” I say. “I saved you from starvation.”
He smiles, teeth blaringly white against the deep russet of his lips, and opens his eyes. They lock onto something behind me, and Kip hurries to remove his hands, putting distance between us as he stands straight.
“Andie.”
A petite brunette looks hesitantly between us as she walks around the room divider. God knows how long she’s been standing there, watching us. By the look on her face, she’s more apprehensive than voyeuristic.
“Sorry if I’m intruding,” she says, making brief eye contact with me before looking back to Kip.
Kip steps around me, putting even more space between us. “No, you’re fine. I thought you weren’t coming by until after your late class was over.”
“It was canceled last minute. Since I was already on campus, I figured I’d come straight here.” She holds up a paper bag with the name Chuck’s across the front of it. “And I figured I could bring you lunch. I noticed you didn’t have any groceries last night.”
She’s bringing him lunch? And she was here last night?
She makes eye contact with me again, this time longer, and I can see the proverbial wheels spinning. She wasn’t expecting me. At least, not expecting to find Kip reaching second base with someone.
“Okay, well,” Kip says, rubbing his hands together. If I’m not mistaken, Andie being here makes him nervous. And I definitely don’t like it. “It won’t take me long to put the rotors on. Forty-five minutes, hour and a half, tops.”
“If it’s not a problem.”
“None at all,” he says. “If you could meet me downstairs, I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Oh, yeah. No problem.” She smiles and turns away.
No faster does he turn around than the words leave my mouth. “She was here last night?”
“She came and dropped off the car with Lilly.”
I give him a look. “And brought you lunch from your favorite burger place?”
He cocks his head to the side, observing my body language. “You know my favorite restaurant?”
Remembering Lilly mentioning wanting to set Kip up with one of her friends, I narrow my eyes at him. “Isn’t she a little young for you?”
“She’s only a year younger than you,” he says without missing a beat.
I scoff. “That’s younger than your little sister, for Christ’s sake.”
Slowly, a smile spreads across his face, an overconfident gleam in his eyes. I scrunch up my face, confused by his sudden change in demeanor. And then it clicks.
I slam the heel of my hand to my forehead. No.
“No?”
“Did I say that out loud?”
Kip nods animatedly. “Yes. It’s okay,” he says. “We don’t have to talk about it.”
I would wither and die where I stand before I’d ever admit I’m jealous. “I’m guessing this means you can’t give me a ride back to work?”
He laughs at my attempt to change the subject. “If I don’t, will you be distracted by thoughts of Andie and me alone?”
My answer is rapid fire, automatic. “No.”
“Good,” he says, pulling away and smacking my ass. “Means you’ll be safe.”
I scowl at him, rubbing my backside, coming to a stop when I find Lilly and Justin standing at the mouth of the stairs. A young boy stands between them and Justin is giving Kip the biggest shit-eating grin I’ve ever seen.
“Hello.” The boy smiles, cheeks deepening in color every millisecond he keeps eye contact with me.
“Who is he,” I ask, pointing to the kid.
“This,” Justin says, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a playful manner, “Is Cal. He lives in the townhouse to the right of us.”
My mouth falls open in shock and Lilly rolls her eyes to the ceiling in silent prayer.
Justin’s smile only grows. “He’s eleven and still sleeps in Ninja Turtle pajamas.”
“Hey,” Cal protests, a scowl marring his boyish features. “Raphael is also a badass.”
Lilly smacks him in the back of the head. “Stop cussing or I’ll let Mr. Wilson send you to your room next time.”
Cal scowls, but it’s short lived. Kip and I make eye contact, completely confused and blindsided by the direction of their arrival.
Lilly gives Kip a pleading look. “Can you assign him something to do?”
“Can I get an explanation as to why I’m being assigned babysitting duties?”
Cal’s scowl returns at Kip’s insinuation he needs to be babysat.
Justin answers for her. “Lilly thinks it’s her job to intercede all of Mr. Wilson’s parenting decisions regarding Cal’s punishments.”
“He’s so unreasonable though,” Cal whines, and Lilly gives Justin a cocksure smile.
“Is he, though?” Justin says, face compressed sarcastically as he looks at Cal. “Is he really?”
“Look,” Kip interrupts. “I don’t care what he did, just keep me out of it. I’m trying to start a business and the last thing I need is figuring out what to do with a kid.”
“I’m almost twelve,” Cal protests.
Justin gives Kip a look, and I think they both silently agree they think Cal is a little too cocky for his own good. “Fine,” Kip concedes. “He can clean up after the workers.”
“Thank you so much,” Lilly says, relieved by Kip’s agreement. “Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do. She smiles, but there’s a level of thinly veiled aggression under her words, and I struggle to find the meaning of them.
“Nothing at all,” he replies sarcastically.
She shakes Cal’s shoulder, trying to give him her most supportive smile, only receiving a bored expression in return. “I’m going to go say hey to Andie really quick and then we can go.”
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