“There was a fight,” he said, sounding pissed. “And you were the one to say that we should be handling this differently.”
I stood up and picked my taco up, taking a few more bites of it before rolling the dregs up in the wrapper and stuffing it into the nearly empty bag.
“I can talk to them,” I said, my eyes going down to once again capture Ares’ before winking. “You want the rest of these tacos?”
She shook her head.
“No,” she whispered.
I picked up the other four tacos in one hand and gestured for her to proceed before me.
She did, looking over her shoulder a few times on our way to the office.
Seeing the kid from earlier who’d given me the directions, I stopped and handed him over the rest of the tacos.
His eyes lit up like it was Christmas.
“If you’re feeling nice, you can share,” I said.
He didn’t look like he was feeling nice at all.
“Fuc… uhhh, heck yeah. Thank you.” His eyes went to the principal who didn’t look happy that I’d given one of his students a fuckin’ taco.
“Take it to the cafeteria, Franks,” he ordered.
Franks saluted him like a smart ass and headed toward where I assumed was the cafeteria.
Bailey stormed off toward the office.
And I watched Ares’ ass as she followed him at a much more sedate pace.
Twenty minutes later, after listening to the kids discuss why they’d been fighting, I wondered why in the hell Bailey was even principal if he couldn’t handle a simple argument between kids.
And why the hell did he need Ares for this?
Something in which I would talk to her about later on.
Realizing that I wasn’t needed since there wasn’t any actual fighting, I pulled Ares to the side and cornered her in the front office away from where Bailey was talking with the students.
“I gotta go,” I said softly. “You’re coming tonight?”
She bit her lip but nodded, not able to actually look me in the eye.
Jesus Christ, that blush.
The things I could say to her…
“Cool,” I said. “I’ll pick you up around six.”
She blinked.
“Wear your hair down… curly.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.
And before she could overthink it, I leaned in and pressed my lips to her cheek.
“See you later, sweetness.”
Chapter 8
I’m not useless. You can always count on me being the bad example.
-Ares’ secret thoughts
Ares
I wasn’t sure why I’d agreed to go with him to this dinner, but I was seriously reconsidering it an hour and a half later as I stared at my wardrobe.
Then I called my best friend, Calloway, and slightly freaked out while I waited for her to answer.
“Yo,” Calloway said, sounding as if she’d answered with a mouthful of food. “What’s up?”
“I need help,” I said, sounding a bit desperate. “I have this dinner tonight with a man. A man that says we’re dating. But it’s with the SWAT team, and there are going to be other women there. So it’s not a date, really. Just a get together… what do I wear?”
“Wait, wait, wait. Back up,” Way said. “There is so much there that I have to process. Let’s start with my first question. There’s a man that says you’re dating?”
I licked my lips nervously.
“See, it goes like this…” I said, telling her about what happened at the school the other day.
“Is this the same man that you couldn’t stop staring at during the police banquet? The one that hangs up in your office that you refuse to change to any other months?”
I felt my face flush.
“Yes,” I said softly. “That’s him.”
“Whew, boy,” she said. “Okay. So what are your options on what to wear? I mean, I know that you’d much rather wear sweats and all but you can’t. Not if you ever want your vagina touched again.”
I choked. “Calloway, Jesus.”
She snickered.
Calloway didn’t have a filter. Even worse, she didn’t feel regret when she pissed people off.
That was what made her such a good journalist.
Oh, and also a bad one.
Sometimes she didn’t care who she hurt in the pursuit of a story.
Calloway wrote and managed a magazine called ‘Hero’ in her spare time. In her magazine she focused on firefighters, and paramedics, as well as all public service professions and all military. She tried to bring light to the struggle of the professions and make sure that everyone could get their story heard. Meaning, sometimes she stepped on toes when it was needed.
“On top of that, he asked me to wear my hair down and curly for him,” I said. “I don’t wear my hair curly…ever.”
“Well,” she said into the silence. “He had to have seen you with your hair down and curly to know that it was curly in the first place.”
She had a point.
“And he had to have liked it,” she continued.
I sighed.
“I honestly don’t see why you don’t like it.” She paused. “Wear it down. What’s it going to hurt?”
It wasn’t going to hurt per se, but it was going to feel incredibly awkward. Not to mention I knew half the men on the SWAT team, and those that I didn’t, knew of me because of my dad or my brother.
This needed to go smoothly.
“Where are you going to eat?” she asked.
I moaned. “I didn’t think to ask.”
“Hmm,” she said. “Can you text him? Find out?”
I could.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Then do that,” she ordered. “And play it safe. Don’t sound overly eager. And don’t sound awkward. Just say something simple and to the point.”
Ares: Where are we going?
Ares: Not that it matters. I’m just trying to find the best outfit to wear.
Ares: I’m leaning toward sweatpants. Sweatpants make me happy.
Ares: They have a stretchy waistband in case I want to eat a lot.
Ares: Not that I’ll embarrass you or anything. I’ll try to control my hunger.
Ares: Unless you say El Sombrero. If that’s the place we’re going, I have zero control there. Like, I’m talking fat kid in a candy shop no control.
Ares: Maybe we should just reschedule?
Ares: Yes, that’s the best option, I think. Maybe come see me afterward?
Ares: Not that I’m inviting you to my house for anything nefarious.
Ares: Unless you wanted to do something nefarious with me.
Ares: I’m done now.
I slapped my hand over my face and cursed myself.
Then I placed the phone back to my ear and said, “Texting him was a mistake.”
Calloway was already laughing her ass off.
She knew based solely on how long it took me to get back on the phone that I’d gone overboard.
My phone beeped during her guffawing, and I couldn’t scrounge up the courage to look at the message.
“He messaged me back.” I moaned, dropping down face first onto the bed.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, giggling now.
I gave her a recap of what I’d said, ending with a moan of embarrassment.
“Just look at the message,” she ordered.
I reluctantly propped myself up onto one arm, put the phone onto speaker, and cringed visibly as I went into the messages.
Hayes: Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ll still be there as soon as I get off. Sadly, or maybe good, it is at El Sombrero. We have the whole back room. Wear the sweats. I’m going to be wearing mine.
He’d handled my awkwardness well.
“He said I can wear my sweatpants. We’re going to eat at the bane of my e
xistence, and that we at least have some privacy so that I can embarrass myself in secret,” I said to Calloway.
She snorted.
“Wear the sweatpants,” she ordered. “He flat out gave you permission. And you’re going to overthink everything else.”
“What about my hair?” I asked curiously.
“You have two hours,” she said. “Go wash off the day. Put some of that shit in your hair that you leave in when you leave it curly and let it dry. Easy peasy. If he wants the real Ares, give her to him.”
If he wants the real Ares, give her to him.
I liked the way that sounded.
Too many times, on too many dates, I’d tried to be who I wasn’t.
Maybe Calloway was right. Maybe it was time to be who I was.
So that was exactly what I did.
“Thanks, Way,” I said softly. “Love you.”
Calloway giggled. “Let me know if you feel the same way after tonight. Call me the instant that you get home.”
After promising to do just that, I went ahead and took my shower.
After shaving every single inch of my body sans my arms and my face, I got out and got dressed in my sweatpants. I also put on a tight black tank top to go with the sweatpants.
The last thing to go on was a pair of tennis shoes.
After spending the majority of my day in heels, there was nothing I wanted more than to wear something comfortable on my feet. So tennis shoes it was.
Then I tackled the beast that was my hair.
By the time I was done, I had a little more than an hour to wait.
Which was, of course, when I fell asleep.
***
I woke up to pounding.
Frowning, I pushed up off my bed and walked blearily to the front door, shuffling my way there with unsteady steps.
Yanking open the door, I blinked in surprise at the pissed off face that was on the other side.
His face went from pissed off to blank in a matter of seconds.
“Were you sleeping?” he asked.
I blinked innocently at him.
“Of course not,” I lied.
How would he know?
I looked at my watch.
It wasn’t even six yet.
He was early.
His smile was swift. There one second and gone the next.
“You ready?” he asked, taking a step forward so that he was close, but not too close.
More like, I couldn’t close the door in his face if I wanted to.
I nodded. “I just have to grab my purse.”
He looked down at my sweats. “Those are cute.”
I looked down at myself, then looked over at him.
And nearly choked.
He was indeed wearing sweatpants.
He also filled out those sweatpants like nobody’s business.
“Ummm,” I hesitated. “Yeah.”
They were simple black sweatpants from Old Navy.
I’d bought them last year on sale for four dollars at the winter clearance event they did every year.
Which I told him in the next second. Blurting it all out because the man’s gaze on me made me incredibly nervous.
“That’s nice,” he said. “I just buy what I want and don’t really pay attention to the price.”
I blinked. “That sounds like rich people problems.”
He grunted out a laugh just as lightning lit up the sky behind his big shoulders.
Seconds after that, thunder took over.
“Let’s get going before the rain starts,” he ordered, gesturing for me to follow.
I held up a finger.
“Hold on,” I said. “I really have to pee, and I have to find my bag. And my phone. I think my phone’s on my bed.”
“I’ll get your phone. You go to the bathroom.” He paused. “You don’t need your bag.”
I didn’t bother to argue with him, instead leading him inside.
“My room’s that way.” I stated the obvious.
I lived in a one-bedroom apartment. The kitchen and the living room were all one big, open floor plan. The bedroom was off of the kitchen and the bathroom was off of the living room.
There wasn’t much to it at all, and a toddler could figure out where the bedroom was.
“Sorry for the mess,” I said as I made my way to the bathroom. “I meant to pick up a little but…”
I trailed off, causing him to laugh.
“But you fell asleep,” he teased.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
I closed the door on his quiet chuckle, hurrying through the bathroom routine before washing my hands and staring at my face in the mirror.
I only sighed at what I saw.
I had pillow marks on my face from where I’d fallen asleep, and I’d forgotten to put on makeup.
Oh, and my hair was a fucking mess.
I started to fluff it out with my hands, trying to make it cooperate when I damn well knew it wouldn’t, when Hayes’ deep, dark voice had me freezing.
“You look beautiful. Stop fussing. Let’s go,” he ordered.
I heard him so well that there was no way in hell he wasn’t standing right next to the door.
I gave one last longing look at my makeup bag, wishing I’d had time to at least put on some mascara, and turned away.
I hadn’t bothered with the lock, so when I opened the door, it was to find him still right there.
Though, I doubted he would’ve moved even if I’d had to unlock the door.
“You ready?” he asked, holding up my phone.
I took it and shoved it into my shirt between my bra and my skin.
He watched the move with curiosity but didn’t say a word as he gestured to the wide-open front door and held out his hand.
I held up my hand slightly in front of us.
“My hands are wet,” I said, heart hammering.
He grabbed my hand anyway. “I heard you wash your hands, sweetness. I don’t care about a little water on your hands.”
My heart rate went from acceptable, you can still live levels, to you probably can’t sustain this kind of rate for much longer.
He’d found my keys at some point, and when we exited my apartment, he locked my door as if he’d done it a thousand times.
“This apartment complex is something else,” he said, looking around as he walked me to his truck.
Lightning lit up the sky once more, and I saw his face focused on something in the very back corner of the lot. The place where I suspected drug dealers lived but chose to ignore.
See, rent was very, very cheap here. And on a guidance counselor’s salary, cheap was what I needed if I wanted to live by myself.
“It’s cheap,” I explained. “And nice. The parking lot is a little rough sometimes, but ultimately, everyone stays to themselves. And there aren’t any kids here.”
“Kids are a bad thing?” he asked curiously.
“Kids are a bad thing when you have that kind of stuff going on in the corner,” I gestured to where he was still focused.
Hayes grunted and turned away, walking up to his truck and opening the door for me.
I climbed inside, thankful that I’d gone for something loose seeing as Hayes’ truck was rather high off the ground.
He waited until I was all the way inside before closing my door for me and rounding the hood to get into his own side.
Once he started it up, his headlights illuminated my front porch.
“I like that, by the way,” he said. “Sounds good.”
My wind chime.
My wind chime that my mom had gotten me when I’d moved out.
“I love listening to it,” I said softly. “I think it drives my neighbors nuts, though. But everyone here has something that bothers someone else. My neighbor, for instance, likes to listen to his television so loud that I can hear every single word said. I don’t even have to turn my ow
n television on to know what’s happening on all the new shows.”
He backed out of his spot with a smile, then casually reached over for my hand once he was on the road.
I swallowed hard, hoping that my hand wouldn’t betray my nervousness.
And, to cover up my nerves, I started to chatter.
“Where are you from, Hayes?” I asked.
It’d been something that I wanted to know for a while, but hadn’t had the courage to ask.
“I’m from Texas,” he answered. “Though, not from around here. Up near the panhandle.”
I looked over at him just as another streak of lightning pierced the sky’s darkness.
I jumped as thunder immediately boomed.
“Jesus,” I breathed, putting my free hand over my heart in surprise. “That scared the crap out of me.”
He grinned over at me but quickly turned his eyes back toward the road.
“Have you ever thought of leaving Kilgore?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. Well, let me take that back. I have thought about it, but immediately think better of it because this is my home. That was why I was so excited when this guidance counselor position became available. Which is why it’s pissing me off so badly that freakin’ Bailey is being such a jerk.” I looked at him more closely. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” he answered. “It’s something my father has always asked people. And I guess that just kind of sticks when you hear it so often. He likes to say that there’s a whole wide world out there for us to explore and learn. That I waste it when I stay in one place.”
“Your dad travels a lot?” I asked curiously.
He snorted. “My dad lives out of a suitcase, and my step-mother caters to him.” He looked over at me. “Did you meet them when you were dating Ryan?”
I shook my head. “No. I’d spoken to them on the phone, but Ryan was always busy. I’m fairly sure that he always planned on us breaking up, so he didn’t introduce me to anyone. Which, for his sister’s part, I’m not too upset about.”
His grin was swift.
“She’s still in the city lock-up, by the way,” he said as he flipped his blinker on to make a U-turn. “I highly doubt that she’s going to get out of this one. I bet she sees some real jail time.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that.
I lived by the ‘if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it’ policy. It served me well working with school-aged children.
Ask Me If I Care Page 9