I roll my eyes, “Yes, you know Lindsey, Dutch.”
He shrugs. “If you say so.”
Okay, he probably doesn’t remember her. Dutch has tons of girls after him. And it was a whole week ago. (Groan.) But come on, they kissed. However, to be fair, the dude is actually clueless about the hordes of girls clawing themselves for him … unless they meet his “standards.” And, you know, it’s been within a week since they kissed.
Anyway, when Lindsey started babbling about Dutch again last week she had gushed on and on about him—about how romantic what he did was. She had been so full of longing I could have cried.
So, yeah. Here I am. Following the dude into the restroom.
“I have a proposal for you,” I tell him.
His eyebrows go up. High.
Okay, maybe the boys’ bathroom is not the best place to say that—offer a proposal.
I backtrack, fast. “—it’s for my friend, Lindsey.”
I can tell he’s still clueless who she is. And not too terribly interested in finding out. As soon as I said the proposal was for Lindsey, and not me, his eyes immediately lost their spark. No more interest.
“A proposal for your friend?” he says, almost sounding bored. Like he gets proposals about girls all the time. (Sadly, he probably does.)
“Yes, a proposal for Lindsey. I’d like you to date her.”
“Yeah. No thanks.”
“Come on, please. She likes you so much—and it would mean so much to her.”
When I can see he’s still going to turn me down, I go on, “Dutch, come on. You know I wouldn’t do this—talk to you, let alone follow you into the bathroom—unless it was a big deal.”
His jaw muscles tick. “Big deal to her—or you?”
“Both of us.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Why are you doing this?”
“She really, really likes you.”
He exhales very loudly, and dramatically (teasingly). “What does she look like?”
“She’s beautiful,” I assure him.
He juts his chin, “As beautiful as you?”
Awww! (Be strong Audrey! You’re over him.)
I swallow. “Prettier.”
He squints a bit, looking suspicious. “Let me see a picture of her.”
I quickly scan through my phone for the best picture I have of Lindsey. She’s cute … but he’s not really into cute. He’s able to get gorgeous. Plus he’s picky—not about who he kisses (he’ll kiss anyone), but who he “dates.” So, I’m nervous.
I hold my breath, showing him the best picture I can find.
He glances at it—barely. “Nah,” he says. “Sorry.”
“Dutch! Come on, she’s really sweet.”
“I’m sure she is. But she’s not my type.”
Shudder. “What’s your type?”
His lips quirk. “You.”
A flutter whooshes through me. I ignore it. “Please Dutch.”
He groans and scrubs a hand over his face. He winces and asks it again, “Why are you doing this?”
“She’s been really sad—like manically sad. Like, she tried to commit suicide and just recently got out of the mental hospital.”
“Okay, you’re really selling me on her now.” He says it total deadpan. But a dark sardonic grin tugged on his lips. (Dutch is like that—darkly sardonic.)
I groan. “Look, this is a huge month for her and I don’t want her to have to go through it alone. Her birthday is this month, and her mom had died this month—years ago, but still. It’s hard on her. And her anniversary with her boyfriend would have been this month. And her sister is getting married this month. Lindsey totally needs a date for it, or she’s going to feel all alone and sad at it, since her boyfriend was—of course—going to take her to it.”
I give Dutch my most pleading look. “Dutch, she’s been so sad. I’m worried about her. You could totally cheer her up—just be gentle and sweet.” I give him a tiny look, “You can be gentle and sweet.”
He shakes his head with a little smirk. “That’s not what I hear—I hear I’m ‘callous.’”
Okay, I had called him callous. Once. Over a year ago. I’m surprised he even remembers.
“Look, it’s true,” he says, not sounding teasing anymore. Sounding completely sincere. “I’m callous. Not on purpose, but I’m not all soft and sensitive, and I don’t want that kind of responsibility. I mean, you’re placing her care in the wrong hands.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he gently presses two warm fingers against my lips, softly stopping my words (and my heart). “I’m callous and insensitive, Audrey; and definitely shouldn’t be trusted with a girl on the edge. Don’t put that kind of pressure in my hands, Audrey. It won’t go well—you know that.”
I pry his fingers off my lips. “Dutch, no. You can handle it. You can! For one month. One. Just be super nice and respectful. Get her over her gloomy funk—ease her out of it. Then ease her out your relationship—tell her your therapist doesn’t think you’re ready for a relationship.”
He raises an eyebrow. “My therapist?”
“Yeah. They advise stuff like that. She knows that. She’ll have to accept it. It’s not her … it’s your therapist.”
He scratches his chin, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I’d love to help you out—I would, Audrey. But I can’t be responsible for a girl hovering on the brink. Seriously. I can’t be even be responsible, period.”
I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it.”
“Okay, so why are you doing this?”
“Because she likes you. And … she needs this. You’re good at making a girl feel special.”
He gives me a tiny look.
He grunts, then draws out a breath. “Let me see the picture again.”
I dangle her picture in front of his face.
He glances at it. Sooo briefly. “No.”
I quickly gush out my leverage, “I have tickets to see Roll.”
His eyes flicker with interest. And amusement. “How did you know I want to see Roll? Were you stalking me?”
He had put on a bunch of social networks that he was dying to see Roll, but the show was sold out.
I wasn’t stalking him though. Lindsey was.
When she mentioned he wanted to see them so bad, it gave me the idea. He could take Lindsey … since I had tickets to see them. I bought the tickets months ago—the moment they went on sale. I happen to love Roll as much as Dutch. Probably more than he does. But I love Lindsey more. I’m willing to give up my favorite band for her … if it can make her happy.
Dutch draws out a breath. “You’d give up your tickets for your friend?”
I nod.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me, Audrey. I can’t be faithful to her—not even for a month. I have a chick waiting outside the door for me—and another I have my sights on once I drop this one off at her house. I’m sort of booked.”
“It’s Roll.”
“Right. I’ll take her to that—definitely. I would love to take her to that. And I’ll make out with her, kiss her wild—for that night.”
“Give her a month—please? One month. Her boyfriend broke up with her, Dutch—that’s why she went there. Not that she’s like that. She’s not. At all. It was just a sad moment for her. But give her some happy moments.”
“I’ll give her a night of happy moments.”
“A month—and no tongue.”
He scoffs. “No tickets to Roll is worth that.”
“Fine. Be a selfish jerk.” I start to storm out the door.
He puts his hand on my shoulder, making my knees go weak. He gently pulls me back to him. “You’re not being fair Audrey.”
I know. I totally know that. And I know I had no right to call him selfish just because he didn’t want to help my friend.
I’m being unreasonable. I know that. But poor Lindsey! She could use a little sunshine. And for some inexplicable reason, Dutch is her sunshine. (Okay, okay, it isn’t that
inexplicable. At all. It’s totally explicable. Dutch is tons of girls’ sunshine. Dutch is hot.)
My heart flutters as he stares at me.
He tilts his head slightly, like he’s negotiating something in his mind.
Weighing his words carefully he says, “You know how your friend feels about me? That’s how I feel about you.”
All the air whooshes out of me. I swear, my heart explodes.
Barely able to breathe I whisper, “Liar.”
“Am I lying?”
“You’re calloused and insensitive.”
His lips twitch. “Yeah, but you’re you, Audrey. And I’ve sort of had a soft spot for you since—well, you know—my whole life. I mean, you’re finally old enough for me to admit that now. Audrey, I date a lot of girls, I do, but I don’t have “girlfriends.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t so calloused and insensitive.”
He grins. “Maybe.”
Then he adds, “But so do we have a deal?—I’ll help you with your friend, and you help me with my needs.”
My heart slams against my chest.
I raise my eyebrows, “Your needs?”
“Yeah, my needs to get you out of my head. Get closure.”
CHAPTER 6
I stare at Dutch. We’re still in the restaurant’s bathroom. I’m still on my fifteen minute break, supposed to be waitressing—and Dutch is still on his date. Nothing has changed, yet everything has changed.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “You need closure?”
“Yep.”
“We haven’t even spoken in over a year.”
“Right. But we used to be close, Audrey … in case you can’t remember. In fourth grade, my teacher made me class president because I pushed you on the swings every recess—Every. Single. Recess. You made me push you, and I’d do it. You had me wrapped around your finger. I was just too embarrassed to admit it to anyone, since you were so young.” He grins, “But I was yours.”
Groan! He’s such a player. I scoff, “Well, you got over that—apparently.”
I mean, the dude has dated every girl in our college. Well, every girl but Lindsey. Well, every girl that is centerfold-worthy—and goes to church. (See?—he’s picky.)
Dutch grins slightly. “Obviously I didn’t get over it. Or I wouldn’t be trying to make this deal with you.”
I sigh, knowing this is a bad idea. To even toss him a bone. “Okay, what’s the deal you’re counter-proposing?”
He keeps his eyes on me—like directly into mine. “I’ll spend time with your friend, and in return you’ll spend time with me. A little fun—for both us. Your friend can have her fun with me—I’ll get my fun with you.” His eyes twinkle as he grins, “Come on Audrey, you’ll be helping people. You like to help people, right? So, it’s a win-win—all the way around. You’ll be helping out your friend, and helping me get my closure.” His lips twitch, “Helping people—that will be your fun, right?”
His brow rises as I think it over. He says around an adorable grin, “Come on, like you said—it’s only a month. Ease me out of the relationship—blame it on your therapist. Convince me it’s not me, it’s your therapist.”
He’s just basically making fun of me. Duh.
And he’s grinning the whole time he does it.
He grins now, huge. “What do you say?”
I negotiate it in my head—which I wouldn’t be doing if he weren’t basically calling me out. But since he is … I consider the arrangement, since he’s basically throwing it in my face that he doesn’t want to do it; so if he has to do it, then so do I—spend time with someone I’d rather not. To “help.”
“Fine,” I mutter finally. “I’ll spend a little time with you.”
He grins. “I’ll spend as much time with your friend as you spend with me.” His grin grows. “We’ll make a chart.”
I groan. Then grumble, “Don’t you have a date waiting?”
He nods. “I do.”
He cocks his head. “So, we’re going to start seeing each other on the sly or what?”
I rub my forehead. “I need to think about it.”
His lips twitch. “Fine. Take all the time you need. I won’t go near Lindsey until you do.” Then he adds, “And I get to date until you do. I mean, openly. Other people—that aren’t you.”
He stresses, “But if you take the deal, I won’t go near another girl for a whole month. Only your dear fragile Lindsey—and you.”
He raises his eyebrows, “I’ll treat her like a queen.”
CHAPTER 7
The day of their infamous kiss Lindsey had gushed about Dutch: “He was the best kisser ever and he walked me to my math class, since his kiss left me so dizzy.” Lindsey sighed, “Isn’t that sweet?”
It was sweet … and that’s not even what finally made me pitch my proposal to Dutch. What finally made me do it was after hearing Lindsey start gushing about him again last week, over a completely different sweet thing he did.
What was the sweet thing he did? The thing that had Lindsey mooning about him even more than usual? It happened last weekend. She caught him following me home from work. He had even admitted to her he was following me. He said he likes to make sure I get home okay.
“Can you not tell her, though?” he asked Lindsey coaxingly. Then glanced to the donut shop they were standing in front of. “I’ll buy you a donut not to tell her.”
Of course she accepted. To Lindsey it was their first date.
But she didn’t keep her end of the deal. Because this was Lindsey. And it was about Dutch. The guy she’d been pining over non-stop.
She had called me right after their “date” gushing, “Dutch follows you home from work—every night.”
Well, I only work Saturday nights. So, there was no “every” night. There was at the most every “Saturday” night. But I doubted that was true—that he even did it that often (since he’s a busy guy, spreading his sunshine and everything). Still, hearing that—it had sent a jet of warmth through me, especially when she said why he did it.
She gushed, “He does it just to make sure you get home safely. Isn’t that sweet?”
It was sweet. But you have to know Dutch. He’s sweet … but so not at the same time. I mean, we have a past. Obviously. Since now he’s claiming he needs “closure.” (Roll your eyes at that, because what he needs is a punch in the stomach. The dude has known me since we were four—and he’s treated me like a little kid. Always. And just to clue you in—he’s rejected me many, many times.
So, yes, I can see him following me home—since until the “incident” he had always been like a protective big brother to me.
But his need for “closure?”
No. Give the dude a punch.
That’s what he needs.
CHAPTER 8
So, to summarize: Last week when Lindsey gushed on and on about Dutch—about how romantic and sweet and hot and blah, blah, blah he is, Lindsey had moaned at the end all dreamy-like, “I wish I had someone like that in my life. You know, as a significant other.”
She said it so longing and yearning-like that my heart twisted.
Which is why when I saw Dutch come into the restaurant tonight I gave him a second look—instead of hiding from him like I usually do.
I mean, he comes to the restaurant a lot. But I never, ever wait on him. Ever. Though he requests my table, every time. But I always switch with another waitress. They’re always happy to switch with me. Well, when it’s Dutch I’m avoiding. Dutch is a huge tipper—and yummy eye-candy. Though he’s always with a girl when he comes in … which is why I never wait on him. And you’d think he’d get the hint. Though yeah, I’m pretty sure he does. He only does it—requests me—to ruffle my feathers. That’s probably the only reason he chooses our restaurant in the first place—to bug me. Though maybe not. I work at “The Cheesecake Castle.” It’s popular.
So, he might just like the food. The bugging me might just be a fun added bonus.
Anyway, I’ve work
ed at the Castle over a year now. It’s close to my house, so I can walk there.
When Dutch came into the restaurant tonight, I remembered how Lindsey had gushed about him, and since I’d just learned he follows me home (on occasion), I figured he might do me a favor. Maybe. Anyway, I thought I might as well give it a shot. But he was with a girl (of course), so I couldn’t ask him my favor—not in front of her—so I followed him to the restroom.
When he did his weird counter-proposal to my offer—you know, me having to spend time with him—once I heard the obnoxious plan, I tilted my head at him. “Why do you have to always be like this to me?”
He played dumb, though he knew what I was talking about (I’ll give you a glaring example later). He jutted his chin, “What do I do to you?”
“Force me to endure you.”
He breathed out a laugh. “Some girls enjoy me.”
“Right. Lindsey would. And that girl you’re with out there in the restaurant probably does, right? So why bother me? That girl looks like a model.”
He grinned at that. “She looks like you.”
Then he conceded. “She used to be a model.”
“Right. Well, she makes me suspect you don’t need closure.”
He grinned weakly. “And yet I do.”
His eyes stared into mine. “As much as I’m enjoying this—you begging me for stuff in the bathroom—I actually need to use it.”
“Fine. I’m leaving.”
He put his hand against the door, leaning into it, so I couldn’t open it. When I finally looked up at him, he murmured, “Don’t forget to contemplate our deal.”
I sucked in my breath, looking away. I had to. His eyes on me like that was driving me wild.
His eyes blatantly on me, he waited.
He raised his eyebrows when I could finally manage to look up at him again. He did it like: ‘Dude, you’re so red. Face it, you want to take the deal.’
Silently, his seductive eyes stared into mine. They were full of mischief, yet also full of hunger and longing. It made my heart explode.
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