The Left Side of Perfect

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Balboa is definitely not someone who carries around a grocery list.”

  “Well, I’m glad we established that we both don’t date. That makes me less nervous.”

  Me too. I’m not good at this shit. The only serious relationship I had was with Rory and that was over six years ago. She was the one who pulled me out of my shell. She was the outgoing one who kept our relationship interesting and refreshing. I followed her lead.

  If Sage is like me, does that mean one of us is going to have to step up and be the outgoing one?

  I sure as hell hope it doesn’t have to be me.

  Looking out the window, Sage says, “Do you have any plans?”

  “I have an idea.” I chuckle to myself. “I guess it’s my turn to be honest too.”

  “Oh?” Sage faces me.

  With my arm propped on the driver’s door, I play with the small hairs at the back of my neck. “When I asked to show you around, I wasn’t thinking about how I know really nothing about the city. I kind of stick to base and stick to myself. I’ve only been out a few times when the guys force me.”

  “Are you a homebody?”

  “Yeah. What about you?”

  She motions to her body. “You heard me say the amount of sunscreen I put on. Of course I’m a homebody. I love grilling up a steak and watching a movie.”

  “Wait, what?” My brow pinches together. “You grill up a steak?”

  “Of course. Rocky taught me everything I know, and it really chaps his butt that I’m better at grilling than he is now. And before you ask, I do it all. I season, I marinate, and I stand there hovering over the grate, beer in hand, watching intently as my meat cooks.”

  I can’t help it, I let out a low chuckle. I drag my hand over my mouth and say, “Not to sound like an insensitive ass, but I never would have expected you to say that.”

  “Don’t worry, I get it. I look more like a tea and crumpets girl. But don’t let my image throw you for a loop. I like to grill.”

  I nod, mulling over that information. “You know what that means?”

  “I’m going to have to make you a steak sometime.”

  “Exactly.” I turn toward her and something takes over me as I flirtatiously wink and garner a smile from her.

  Maybe I can do this . . . dating thing.

  * * *

  “That was weird,” Sage says, walking next to me.

  “Just a little.” I feel a wave of embarrassment run from the base of my spine to my cheeks, spreading quickly. “For the record, I thought it was a good idea at first. Cross it off your bucket list.”

  “Yeah.” She clasps her hands together in front of her. “You sure can eat a lot.”

  I press my lips together, wishing I could redo this. Am I really that out of practice? I guess it’s been a long time since I had to come up with amazing date ideas. Sage is right; that was really weird. Taking a girl out for the first time to a Vegas-style all-you-can-eat buffet was not the best idea.

  I awkwardly pat my flat stomach. “Had to get my money’s worth.” The smile on her face barely reaches her eyes. Shit. “I’m sorry that guy took a chicken wing off your plate.”

  She nods. “That was the really weird part. I know it was all you can eat, but I don’t think they intended people to eat off strangers’ plates.”

  “Definitely not.” I nudge her shoulder, hoping I really didn’t ruin this night. “I might have done some poor research an hour before our date. All-you-can-eat buffets are huge here. Sorry, Sage.”

  She nudges me back. “If I did research for this date, I’m pretty sure I would have taken us to the same place. It was all-you-can-eat crab legs, and that’s hard to pass up.”

  “Fancy and fulfilling.”

  That makes her laugh, which eases the tension coiling in my shoulders. “When you look at it that way, I have to admit, impeccable dinner option.”

  “See, if we ignore the chicken-wing bandit, we have a great start to the night.”

  “And the kid who tripped me by the mac and cheese.”

  “Don’t worry.” My hand bumps with hers. “I gave the kid a look afterward.”

  “A look?” Sage playfully grips her chest. “My hero.”

  We fall in line, our pace the same as we walk the strip, taking in the drunk tourists and street sideshow acts looking to score some extra bucks from gambling tourists.

  “What’s next?” she asks.

  “Uh . . . I guess this is where I say something intelligent about the city?” I think about it for a second and then say, “It gets really hot here, but I guess you know that given your copious amounts of sunscreen.”

  “Yeah, that I know.”

  I tap my chin. “Uh, did you know that the daily shrimp consumption in Vegas is over sixty thousand pounds?”

  “Really?” Her face morphs into disbelief. “I mean, we both ate a few at dinner, but sixty thousand pounds.” She shakes her head. “That’s a lot of cocktail sauce.”

  “And fishtails.” In front of us is the Bellagio, and I nod toward it. “Want to take a look at the fountains?”

  Her face lights up. “Now that’s something I know is also iconic to Vegas.”

  “See, not so bad. Fully belly and a water show. I almost seem like I know what I’m doing.”

  “Almost.”

  I press my hand to her lower back and guide her toward the fountains where we find an empty section of the concrete fence to ourselves. I take a seat and face her, and she does the same.

  She avoids all eye contact with me, shy and almost . . . scared.

  “Everything all right?” I ask. Is she enjoying herself or wishing she hadn’t bothered?

  She nods. “Everything is good.” She glances at me. “Do you enjoy flying?”

  Just like that, the rest of the tension in my shoulders starts to ease. “I don’t think saying I love it will give my feelings justice. It’s a part of me, something I know I was meant to do my entire life.”

  “Rocky is the same way. Always wanted to fly. Were you just like him and had a bunch of model airplanes?” Yes, but maybe not for the same reason.

  “So many.” I chuckle. “Mine are in a storage unit in Colorado Springs right now. With all the moving around we do, I didn’t want to risk damaging them. A lot of them belonged to my grandpa.”

  “He handed them down to you?”

  “Yeah. He was my best friend for so long; a role model.”

  “Was?”

  I nod. “He passed away shortly after I got my wings to fly. He never got to see me in a Raptor. I had plans to fly him down with his nurse and watch me take off, do a few things in the air and then land, but he died unexpectedly in his sleep.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” Fucking. Horrible. Absolutely. Devastating.

  “Took a little bit to accept, but the more time passes, I know he lives on with me in that cockpit. He was a pilot, and he’s the reason I’m where I am today.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Sage is kind and sweet, and I finally feel like she’s relaxing with me. And I want that.

  “What got you into optometry?”

  “Would it be weird if I said I’ve always found eyeballs fascinating?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “We all have our passions. I have planes, you have eyeballs.”

  She chuckles and shakes her fist while she talks. “But yours sounds so much more interesting than mine.”

  Sitting close enough to her, the fountains behind us subdued for the moment, I bump my shoulder with hers. “They’re both interesting.”

  Her eyes fall to the ground for a moment before she looks back at me, and that’s when I see it. There’s a twinkle in her eye, a tilt to her head, a smirk on her lips. She’s having a good time. I might be out of practice, but I can do this, and I can do this with her.

  “Thank you for taking me out tonight.” Her finger grazes mine, shooting a sensation I haven’t felt in a long time up my arm. “I’ve had a really good
time so far.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Rocky was right, you are one of the good guys.”

  Balboa approved? Hell, I’ll take it.

  Chapter Twelve

  RYAN

  “They weren’t kidding when they advertised efficiency apartment, were they?” my dad comments, looking around my new tiny space. It’s a far cry from my one-bedroom apartment in Colorado Springs.

  When I searched for apartments, I looked for cheap in a safe area. The cheapest I could find was six fifty a month, and it was this studio apartment, efficiency style, meaning—I don’t have a kitchen, just a mini fridge, hot plate, and microwave placed in one square space I get to call my new home.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “You don’t have an oven.”

  “I don’t really cook, so no big deal.”

  My dad shakes his head. “No, I’m going to get you a toaster oven. We’ll go shopping after this. My boo bear won’t be staying in a place where she can’t bake her favorite Pillsbury chocolate chip cookies.

  I swear, my dad still thinks I’m in sixth grade.

  “That’s not necessary, Dad, but thank you.”

  “No, we’re going shopping. It’s the least I can do since you won’t let me pay for your place out here.”

  I sigh and start to blow up my air mattress. I took a Jeep full of my belongings and left the rest in my parents’ basement. It will be meager dwellings at first, but I’m bound and determined to make a change in my life. And right now? That means a new job, new city, new apartment, and new everything else. Look at me. I’m adulting.

  There has to be some kind of change, because the way I feel about myself hasn’t been exactly spectacular. I’m hoping this fresh start will be exactly what I need.

  “Dad. You helped with my rent in Colorado, but I really want to do this on my own here.” For many reasons, but one of them to prove my mom wrong. She didn’t quite say it, but I knew from the look she gave me every time she came over to my apartment she judged me for not paying my rent by myself.

  Now? I’m going to be independent, and that means no help from my dad.

  Growing a little more stern, he stops me blowing up my air mattress and tilts my chin so I’m forced to look him in the eyes. “Ryan, I’m proud of you for being ambitious and going after what you want, but if you think I’m going to hop on an airplane without at least filling up that mini fridge of yours with food, you’re sorely mistaken. You might want to do this on your own, but I’m still your father, and if I want to get you a few things for your apartment, that’s my damn right.”

  I might be stubborn, but there’s a reason for it. I got it from my dad and from the look in his eyes, I have a feeling I won’t be getting my way.

  Point to the old man.

  * * *

  “I really like what you’ve done with the place,” Leah says as she takes in my apartment, which takes her about two seconds given the tiny space. “It’s very camping chic. The real plant in the corner is a nice touch.”

  My dad went a little overboard—even though I begged him not to—but if there is one thing you can count on when it comes to my dad? He’s determined to spoil me any chance he gets. It’s why I have state-of-the art camping chairs directed at a mini flat-screen TV and Blu-ray player.

  I organized my apartment into sections: living space, with my two camping chairs; my bedroom, which is in the corner closest to the bathroom; and then diagonally opposite of my double-decker air mattress is my little kitchenette section with a folding table acting as my only counter and storage space. My dad wasn’t too thrilled about the setup, but I told him it would be fine. I would be fine. I sent him on his way yesterday and then took the time to really make the place mine. Small, but mine.

  Leah got me the job that moved me here, and to show her my gratitude, I invited her over for some homemade cocktails blended together in the Ninja blender my dad insisted on getting. I put up a two-second fight once I saw the many drinks I could make in it.

  Okay, I’ll admit, I cracked on the blender.

  But smoothies and cocktails! I really didn’t have a choice.

  “Thank you. I was going for camping chic, so I’m glad I accomplished that.”

  “Didn’t you have furniture in your old apartment?”

  I nod. “But it was furnished by the owner. What I did have wouldn’t fit in this small space.”

  Leah gives the place another once-over. “You really did utilize the space well.” She eyes my bed. “Is that an air mattress?”

  I nod and hand her a piña colada I mixed before she got here. “Yes, it is, so please refrain from wearing any spikey clothes near it.”

  “I’ll refrain.” She takes a sip of her drink and then takes my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze while letting out a girly squeal. “Ah, I can’t believe you’re here. Are you excited?”

  “So excited.”

  “The girls are excited to work with you. I’ve shown them your work, and they can’t wait for you to get started. But just so you know, I’ve laid claim on you, so I’m always your first priority, remember that.” I wonder if she has any idea how fantastic hearing that is? I’ve needed this. Affirmation. To gain back my confidence.

  I give her a wink and take a seat in one of my camping chairs. “Don’t worry. You’re my number-one girl.”

  “Good.” She takes a sip of her drink and sits down as well. “Wow, this chair is comfortable.”

  “Only the best for Daniel Collier’s daughter.”

  Leah laughs. “Ugh, I’m so mad I missed your dad. I would have loved to say hi. I used to have a crush on him growing up.”

  “What? Ew, don’t say things like that.”

  “Well, it’s true. There was something about the way he loosened his ties when he got home from work. Made my little teenage heart skip a beat.”

  “Seriously, you need to stop.”

  She laughs. “I wasn’t the only one. A lot of our friends, including Rory, had a crush on your dad. He was so handsome.”

  “I’m going to poke you in the eye with a mascara wand; that’s the ragey level you’re bringing me to.”

  Chuckling, she holds her straw between her fingers and takes a long drink. “What, you didn’t feel the same about my bald, potbelly father?”

  “I mean, when he stuck his hand up his shirt and scratched the hair on his belly, that was something. Certainly an image I haven’t got out of my head.”

  “The man has no class.” Mirth laces her voice. “But I love him. Speaking of my dad, he still thinks I’m a vet.”

  “No, he does not.”

  She nods while sipping her drink. “He so does. I take random pictures with people’s pets and send them to him to keep up the illusion.”

  I tilt my head back and let out a long chuckle. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Come on, you know my dad. If he found out I was a Vegas showgirl, he’d have a coronary. Lying to him is keeping him alive.”

  “Lying for life. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of that.”

  “You’re going to hear way worse living here. Trust me, you’re about to be opened up to a whole new world.”

  We’re silent for a second letting Leah’s words settle in.

  “Do you really take pictures with random people’s pets?”

  Confirming my suspicions, she pulls out her phone and shows me a picture of herself with a few different dogs, all smiling, and in every picture, she’s wearing scrubs.

  “What the hell are you wearing in these pictures?”

  “Oh,” she swallows. “I always carry a scrub shirt in my purse in the off chance I run into an animal.” She taps her head. “It’s all about thinking ahead.”

  “You’re so ridiculous. So are you going to give me the grand tour?”

  She groans and slouches in her chair. “Am I going to have to be your tour guide? Don’t you know anyone else here?”

  Yes, but not really.

  I’m t
empted to tell her I know Colby, but that will probably welcome questions, and I don’t think I want to answer any questions about him. It’s way too complicated. It was the hottest night I’d had in years—probably ever—but I’m actually a little embarrassed I told him he was a good fuck. I mean, come on. The guy would know that. Him and his broody moves. Thinking we’ll stay clear of Mr. Brooks for a while.

  “You’re it, babe. Sorry.”

  “I figured as much. Well, don’t expect me to show you around. Instead, we’re going to experience.”

  “Experience?”

  She slowly nods.

  “Every Sunday, some of the girls and I head to the pools for drinks and tanning. This Sunday, I believe we’re headed to The Venetian. One thing you’ll learn about Vegas is that the pool parties are killer. DJs, drinks, food, and hot guys in swim trunks—doesn’t get better than that. Every Sunday, it’s a ritual, so get ready for it. You packed a bathing suit, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “What kind of bathing suit?” She eyes me suspiciously.

  “Uh, a regular two-piece? It’s red.”

  She makes a disapproving sound. “That won’t do. We’ll go bathing suit shopping this week.”

  “How do you know it won’t do? You haven’t even seen it.”

  She motions with her finely manicured finger at my face. “From the way you scrunched your nose and said regular leads me to believe it’s full coverage.”

  “Of course it’s full coverage.”

  Leaning over, she pats me on the leg. “In Vegas, nothing is full coverage, sweetheart.” Oh. Shit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  COLBY

  “Thanks for meeting me. I feel like a dick for not picking you up.”

  Sage shrugs her shoulders, looking pretty in a green dress, brown sandals, and her hair pulled back in some weird twisty braid thing. I had to meet her at the restaurant instead of picking her up at her house because I was running late at the airfield.

  Luckily, I brought clothes to change into and was able to take a shower in the lockers. The restaurant I picked was a little farther than expected, and with Vegas traffic I barely made it on time. My hair’s still wet, and I’m now covered in a light sweat since I had to sprint to get here when I couldn’t find parking close to the restaurant.