by RC Boldt
Her lips pursed in fake irritation, Raine taunted him. “Someone sounds like a poor loser.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Not me. I’m merely paying homage to being bested in wordplay, that’s all.”
“Did someone say wordplay? Because if it doesn’t have fore in it, I’m pretty sure you’re doing it wrong.” Laney bounced in the room, letting the classroom door fall shut behind her, her bag on her shoulder as she looked between Raine and Mac interestedly.
Raine’s eyes closed on a groan. “Laney.”
“What? Don’t you agree, Mac?” she turned to him. “It’s much more fun when you have fore as the prefix.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Not word.”
Mac gave a laugh, his dimple becoming pronounced. “I’d actually have to agree with you on that one, Laney. Definitely more fun with fore as the prefix.”
Oh, my.
Was it just her or did his voice drop to something low and seductive?
She looked to Laney but her friend didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed. Clearly, Raine was the only delusional one.
But the way Mac had agreed . . .
Stop! No thinking of Mac and foreplay in any combination, she scolded herself.
“Hey, Raine? Speaking of foreplay, remember that one guy who wanted you to be his ‘bad girl’?”
Raine winced. “That was awful, Laney. Thanks so much for bringing that up,” she said, sarcastically. Thank goodness she had closed the door behind her. One never knew what was going to come out of her friend’s mouth.
Mac held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa. Hold up. This I must hear.”
She glared at Laney. “Thanks a lot, friend.”
Her friend shrugged her shoulders. “Hey, it’s a great story, Raine.”
“Fine,” she let out a long breath. “This guy I dated once—very briefly, I might add—came over and we were making out. Suddenly, he hiked up my dress and slapped my butt hard–and I mean hard enough that it brought tears to my eyes- and said, “Are you my bad girl?.””
The look of horror on Mac’s face was priceless. “Ho-ly shit, Raine.”
“Yep. So, I said, “Um, no, I’m definitely not. I’m a very good girl who doesn’t like to be slapped.” Then, I made him go home.”
She gave a little laugh before shuddering at the memory. “It was so unbelievably awkward. I ‘lost’ his number after that.”
Laney clapped her hands together in apparent glee, looking to Mac. “She always has the best interactions.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Raine remarked drily.
“Wow. I agree. That was . . . definitely awkward,” Mac agreed.
“Go ahead and tell him what I got you for Christmas that year,” Laney smiled wide.
Raine muttered. “You got me his and her sleep masks, saying ‘Are you my bad girl?’ and ‘Are you my bad boy?’”
Mac and Laney burst into laughter.
Laney turned to Mac. “You should have seen the lady at the store where they do all the monogramming. She was like, ‘Are you sure you want it to say that?’”
The three of them chuckled at that before Mac spoke again, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“So, what you’re saying is there’s no chance you’ll be my ‘bad girl’ tonight?”
Raine growled at him and his laughter mingled with Laney’s.
She clearly needed new friends.
WAS IT POSSIBLE that her date had split personalities? Or was he bipolar?
These thoughts ran through Raine’s mind as she sat there in the restaurant beside Steven. It was extremely odd because Raine had fun with him the last few times they had met up. He had been entertaining and seemed to enjoy her teaching stories. Granted, they had all been brief coffee dates because their schedules hadn’t coincided well enough for much else. Until now.
And right now, ‘fun’ was the last word she would use to describe this date.
It had begun with the fact that he just hadn’t understood her when she had mentioned how much of a college football fan she was. Like, tonight, she had dropped what she thought was a very obvious hint about sitting closer to the bar so she could watch the Michigan game. He had mentioned that the people who sat at the bar in a restaurant were ‘sketchy.’
Considering she and Mac had sat at the bar a number of times while they had eaten and watched college football games, Raine wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. It was pretty much insulting no matter how she looked at it.
She had tried to explain that they were nearing bowl season and it looked to be very probable that the University of Michigan and her school, the University of Florida, were going to be paired up in a bowl game. He either didn’t pick up on her hint or didn’t care. Right now, she was definitely leaning toward the latter. She had no idea that it would only get worse from there.
“I’ll take the surf and turf special with a loaded baked potato and she’ll have the same,” he had told the waitress.
Wait. What?
Steven hadn’t even asked her what she wanted to order. Not to mention, she didn’t eat red meat.
Raine laid a hand on Steven’s arm before politely saying, “I don’t actually eat steak,” and turned to the waitress to give her order.
Before she could speak, Steven told the waitress, “She’ll have the fried fish platter.”
Raine could feel her eyes narrow with sudden irritation. Now, she certainly didn’t see herself as picky, but she preferred her fish grilled rather than fried.
Instead of saying anything to him again, Raine addressed the waitress. “I would actually prefer the salad with the blackened salmon, please.”
She swore she could see the woman smirk as she marked out and rewrote the order on her pad. Turning back to face Steven, she noticed his lips were pressed together in a tight frown.
Oops. Guess he didn’t appreciate a woman who could order her own food in a restaurant.
Well, newsflash! She didn’t appreciate someone ordering something for her that she didn’t even want.
Turned out, Steven also had an issue with her ordering her own drink.
“We’ll also both take a glass of your house chardonnay.” Again, he did so without asking Raine her preference.
And, again, she politely corrected the order with the waitress. “I’ll actually stick with water for now, thank you.” Raine saw the woman’s eyes dart to Steven as if to gauge his reaction. When he had the same look of distaste, sure enough, the waitress’ lips lifted in the slightest smirk.
At least someone was amused by this unexpected power play.
Once the waitress had their orders and left the table, Steven turned to Raine, his eyes burning with anger. “I don’t appreciate you disrespecting me by changing the orders.”
Her head jerked back in shock at his response. “I don’t see how ordering what I want to eat and drink is disrespectful. I’m not hungry enough to eat a platter. That’s why I ordered the salad. Would you rather me waste the food and drink?” She couldn’t hide the snark in her tone as she spoke.
“I just thought you would find it a gentlemanly thing to do. Clearly, you’re not enough of a lady to appreciate the gesture,” he sneered.
Not enough of a lady?
Oh, hell, no.
Suddenly, Raine’s appetite had vanished. She stared at him for a moment before tilting her head to the side to look at him peculiarly.
“I believe,” she removed her napkin from her lap to place it on the table, “that this date has met its expiration.” She stood from the table and pushed in her chair.
“I don’t normally try to be intentionally rude or mean, but I have to say, you’ve managed to clue me in as to why you’re still single. Enjoy eating alone, Steven.” She turned and left him as he sputtered, trying to form a comeback.
Raine was sure to stop their waitress along the way to ask her to cancel her dinner order. She breezed through the restaurant’s doors to head out to where her car was parked. Sitting behind the wheel after starti
ng the engine and getting the air conditioning going, she contemplated texting Mac to see what he was up to.
He might be on a hot date, though.
The thought made her stomach flip for some reason. It was probably because she hadn’t eaten dinner, so she’d wait until she grabbed her favorite salad from The Circle on the way home to text him.
She just needed food on her stomach. That was why it had felt funny.
Not because the thought of Mac on date bothered her.
Right.
“HEY, MAN. WHERE’S your bottle opener?” Foster was rummaging through drawers in Mac’s kitchen while they were hanging out watching a Friday night college football game.
“It’s on the side of the fridge.” Mac’s eyes didn’t leave the television.
Foster turned and looked for the opener which was sticking magnetically to the side of the refrigerator. It wasn’t the usual one Mac had, though. This one was very different. “Is this a semi-truck?” He held it up, inspecting it closely. He stared at the opener in his hand as if it were a scary, foreign object.
Mac looked over at him. “Yeah. It’s a Mack truck. Pretty cool, huh?” He took a swig of his beer and returned his gaze to the television. “Raine got it for me at some craft sale from an older lady who makes them herself.”
Foster just stared at him.
“You okay, Fos?”
His friend pointed at him with the opener in his hand. “That look.” He shook his head. “Combined with this Mack truck business.” He shook his head, again. “Not good.”
With those few cryptic words, he popped the top off his beer, tossed the top in the trash bin and took a long drink.
Mac looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. When Foster merely reattached the opener to the side of the refrigerator and came around to sit in the oversized chair with his beer, Mac got a bad feeling.
“So.”
Scratch that. He had a very bad feeling. It was never a good sign when Foster began to speak in one or two words at a time.
“Raine.”
Exhaling loudly, Mac shook his head at his friend. “Nope. We’re not doing this, Fos.”
Acting innocent, Foster held up a hand. “Doing what, Mac? Oh, wait, you mean talking about how you’re whipped by your best friend who happens to be a hot girl? How she has these,” he made his voice girly and higher pitched, “little magnets of Mack trucks just for you?”
He sat forward, gesturing casually. “Or are you still on the whole bogus ‘I don’t see her in that way because she’s my friend’ thing?”
Mac glared at him before turning his attention back to the game on television. “It’s a fucking magnet, Foster. Lay off.”
“I’m not talking about the magnet.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about? Quit being so cryptic and spit it out.”
“You had that look on your face when you told me about the damn magnet. And that look, my friend, wasn’t saying anything along the lines of the ‘purely friends’ theme,” he announced, matter of fact. “Not to mention, I haven’t seen nor heard of you doing your ‘thing’ with other women lately.” Foster fixed his pointed gaze on him.
Leaning back in his seat on the couch, Mac looked over at his friend in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. You’re lecturing me about a look on my face? Are you fucking kidding me, right now?” Chuckling mirthlessly, he pointed his finger at him. “You need to lay off spending so much time with your sister, man. Quit painting each other’s toenails and braiding hair and shit.
“And why are you all of a sudden so interested in my sex life? That’s just fucking weird, Fos.” Mac’s forehead wrinkled. “Beyond weird.” He looked back at the television, muttering to himself, clearly agitated.
A few minutes passed and Mac’s attention was sidetracked watching the game unfold in front of them. It was tied with five minutes until half-time. He hoped Raine was getting to see it while she was out on her date.
This would technically be the fourth date with the Steven guy and that was cool and everything but he had to be honest; he really wasn’t crazy about not having her around to watch this game with. She was always so much fun when she got excited about a great play or upset about a bad call by a ref. She livened everything up when she was here.
Things were to the point where Raine kept some of her toiletries in his spare bathroom for when they watched movies late at night or stayed up watching late night college football games and she stayed the night. Hell, he had come to think of the other spare bedroom as her room.
They usually touched base with one another after their dates, but he hadn’t heard anything from her, yet. It was still early, though.
Just then, his phone vibrated in the pocket of his cargo shorts, alerting him of a new text message.
Raine: Hey, you watching the game?
He didn’t want to admit to himself just how excited he was to hear from her. He just missed hanging out with his friend. That’s all it was.
Mac: Yep. It’s a great one, too.
Raine: Damn it. I’m jealous. :-( We didn’t get a table close enough to the TV’s at the bar. I’m about to head home, now. Hopefully, I can see most of the recaps from what I’ve missed.
Mac: Come over if you want. Just me and Foster here.
Raine: You sure? If it’s a guy’s night . . .
Mac: Get your ass over here, already.
Raine: Yes, Mr. Bossypants.
Mac: :)
So immersed in his texting, he hadn’t realized Foster had gotten up to use the restroom and was just returning to his seat.
“Who are you texting over there that put that smile on your face?” Foster inquired.
Damn it.
Trying to school his expression, he shrugged as he put his phone back in his pocket and turned his attention back to the game. “Just a chick I met at the bar last weekend,” he lied.
“Huh. Cool,” was all Foster replied. Surprisingly.
He should have known better. A few minutes passed and they watched as the half-time interviews began with the coaches and players.
“So, Raine’s heading on over?” Foster asked, casually.
“Yep,” Mac answered without thinking.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He made his eyes stay glued to the television so he didn’t have to see the smirk he knew was on Foster’s face.
He had walked right into it, too.
Damn it.
Of course, that didn’t mean he didn’t flip the bird at Foster when he heard him snicker.
RAINE NORMALLY WALKED along the beach to get to Mac’s since it was only about twelve houses down from where she lived. She wondered if Foster might be staying over. She felt guilty realizing she hoped he wasn’t planning on it so she could have what she had come to know as “her room” at Mac’s. She really just wanted to lounge around on the couch and watch some football with her best friend.
She made her way up the steps to the back porch. Knocking twice before opening the door, she kicked off her flip flops and called out, “I brought snacks!”
Coming into the kitchen, she saw Foster stand up from where he had been sitting. “Hey, Fos.”
“Hey, squirt,” Foster said affectionately. He was the only one who could get away with saying that to her.
Setting the large bag of cheese puffs on the kitchen counter, she walked over to him and gave him a hug. “You want some?”
“No, thanks, though. I actually have to head out. Early morning tomorrow.” He grabbed his keys off the counter.
Mac’s head whipped around, his gaze narrowed on his friend suspiciously. “You didn’t say anything to me about an early morning tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, I have something going on I just remembered.”
Raine watched as the two of them did that weird guy telepathic thing.
“Um, o-kay,” She drew out the last syllable slowly. “Whatever you’ve got going on tomorrow, have fun.” Then, she added, “And be careful going
home.”
“Yes, Mom,” he teased her, ruffling her hair like he always did, before he walked down the hall to let himself out.
Turning to Mac, she caught him studying her. She looked down at herself to see if something were out of place and, not noticing anything amiss, she patted her hair. Maybe it had been windblown and was looking all crazy. “Is there something on me somewhere?”
He shook his head as if to clear it. “Nope.”
Giving her a mock stern look, he commanded, “Get us some beers, woman, and come watch this game with me.”
“So demanding,” she huffed good-naturedly.
Within a few minutes, they were relaxing on his large leather couch, eating cheese puffs, drinking their beer, and remarking on plays and calls as the game progressed.
“SO, HOW DID it go?” Mac asked her after the game had ended and they were watching the sports commentators talk about who received helmet stickers and who made key plays.
Caught off guard, she asked him, “How’d what go?”
He nudged her shoulder with his. “The Steven guy? Fourth date?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“That, right there,” she pointed to his eyebrows, “needs to stop, weirdo.”
Sighing, she leaned back against the couch so she faced him better. “It was . . . weird.” She paused with a frown. “Actually, tonight felt like I was seeing his evil twin or something.” Raine went on to tell him about how Steven had been obnoxious in ordering for her and telling her what she should or should not eat.
Mac gave a low whistle. “Whoa. Dude sounds like a serious head case.”
Looking at Mac, she wrinkled her nose. “I know, right?” She looked away and took a deep breath. “Mac, can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he answered, his face serious, intent on her.
Raine scooted to the edge of her seat on the couch, gesturing with her hands. “Do you think that maybe I’m not one of those people meant to find someone who gives me -God, I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud- butterflies?”