Admit You Want Me

by Holloway, Taylor

  “You’re not a monster.” I was staring back at my shoelaces again. “I just… I don’t want to do the hookup thing. I always end up getting hurt.” I couldn’t be someone’s dirty little secret again. It would break my heart to bits to be Ward’s.

  “That’s not a crime either. You’re allowed to change your mind.” He was frowning but did not look angry with me. That was a relief. And a mystery. I wanted to ask what he was thinking but doubted I’d get an honest answer. I’d just rejected him. From his perspective this was probably very frustrating, and baffling. He probably just thought I was a tease.

  “I really am sorry if I gave you the wrong idea about me.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations. I’ve already forgotten about it.” He smiled then and I knew instantly that it wasn’t real. It didn’t reach his eyes.

  So I’m that forgettable? Of course, I would be. Why should I think otherwise? “Ok. Well, I need to get back to work.”

  Ward didn’t stop me, and I scurried off, feeling like an idiot.

  The night seemed to drag on and on after our conversation. Things between Ward and I felt forced and unnatural, although I was smiling and so was he. At least I knew where I stood with Ward now, I supposed that was a lot better than just sleeping with him and then hoping he might want to date me afterwards. Somehow that wasn’t making me feel better though.

  Kate appeared about halfway through my shift to ask me to cover for her tomorrow.

  “Why, have you got a date?” I asked interestedly. She blushed and nodded. Of course, she had a date. She was absolutely, stunningly beautiful. Like Ward, Kate was tall, with fair skin, blue eyes, and dark hair. Her features were more delicate than his, but just as gorgeous. I don’t even think Kate wore any makeup. She didn’t need to. The genes in that family were something else.

  “Do I need to threaten him first?” Ward asked from across the bar. “Put the fear of god in him so he behaves?” He cracked his knuckles for good measure and made a ‘mean face’.

  Kate rolled her eyes. “No, Ward, you don’t.” She looked at me and grinned. “You hit the jackpot being an only child.”

  I grinned. “Yep. I got all the attention.”

  “If only I could have been an only child,” Kate said wistfully. Then, in a lower voice that Ward couldn’t hear, “our dad wasn’t ever around. Ward has always looked out for me, and apparently still hasn’t grown out of it. It’s wonderful except when it’s infuriating.”

  “He loves you,” I said, just as quietly. “You’re lucky to have such a close relationship with a sibling.”

  Kate nodded in agreement, then rolled her eyes dramatically. “He can be really, really annoying though.”

  I giggled. “I’ll bet.” Having seen how seriously Ward took any threat to me—just a cocktail waitress—I could only imagine how protective he would be of his sister. Anyone should think twice before messing with Kate, not that she needed any protection. The woman was a force of nature all on her own. Ward may own the bar, but Kate ran it in most substantive ways. They were like a CEO and a COO. Kate made the schedules, inventory decisions, vendor choices, hiring decisions, promotional materials, and took care of all the tiny details of running the day to day.

  “What are you two whispering about over there?” Ward asked. He looked between us with suspicion.

  “We’re talking about you,” Kate said, sticking out her tongue. “I’m telling Emma all your secrets.”

  Ward smirked and shrugged. “Oh, is that all? That’s fine. I’m a very simple guy. I don’t have any secrets. What you see is what you get with me.”

  “That’s actually true,” Kate said, faking sadness. “You are simple. I know mom always said you rode the short bus to school because you were special, but even you were bound to figure it out eventually.”

  Ward grinned. “At least I’m pretty.”

  “Pretty ugly,” Kate retorted.

  “I thought so too, until I saw you.”

  “At least I’m not stupid.”

  “I know I’m talking like an idiot, I have to, or you wouldn’t understand me.”

  “There you go, talking about yourself again.”

  If this was how they bantered as adults, I could only imagine them as kids. Their poor mom must still be exhausted.

  As I made my rounds and served my endless stream of customers, I found myself envying Kate and Ward’s sibling relationship. They each had someone that was well and truly in their corner. The next time I swung around the bar, I heard Willie and Ward discussing Kate’s upcoming date.

  “She’s going out with that finance douche again,” Ward was telling Willie. “She told me that the last time they went out she didn’t feel like they connected, but she’s still going to see him again. I just don’t get it.”

  “Maybe he’s somehow redeemed himself since then,” Willie offered.

  “I think he’s a waste of her time. He sounds boring.” Ward looked bored just talking about him, whoever he was.

  “Boring’s not a problem if they aren’t spending their time together talking.”

  Ward frowned but didn’t argue with that. Despite what Kate said, it seemed like Ward did recognize that his sister was an adult (even if they both behaved like kids). “I just think she deserves better.”

  “Of course, you do; she’s your sister. No one will ever be good enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably true. But if she was really happy, I’d put up with him.”

  Ward saw me listening and raised his eyebrows. I just smiled politely and continued on my way.

  Eventually, Ward and I settled into an uneasy détente. The hours dragged by and turned to days. Ward didn’t tease me, and I didn’t bait him. Perhaps this was how our interactions would have been if we hadn’t slept together three and a half years ago, but it still felt forced and uncomfortable to me.

  It wasn’t until right before our next mutual day off that I worked up the courage to corner him in the office one evening.

  “I’ve decided where we should go,” I told him, pretending like things hadn’t been weird for an entire week.

  “Huh?” He looked up from his paperwork in confusion.

  “Did you forget already? I went to a football game. Now it’s your turn to do something out of your comfort zone.”

  The look on his face told me had either forgotten or thought I had.

  “You aren’t scared, are you?” I challenged. I melted into the chair across from him, crossing my legs and watching him carefully.

  “Me? Never. Bring it on.” He laughed. His bravado was really something, but after spending so much time carefully observing him, I could see just the smallest amount of hidden worry. And perhaps, although maybe I was imagining it, excitement.

  “Good. Does tomorrow work for you?”

  He nodded. “Sure. Do I need to wear a pocket protector?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, I mean, you can though. If you want to.” I couldn’t imagine it.

  “Other hints? Dress code? Anything?” He was fishing. That wasn’t fair.

  “You didn’t give me any hints.” I pouted.

  “I’m a walking hint for football. Come on, give me something. Anything.”

  I shook my head. “No way. It’s a surprise.”

  “Alright, I guess that’s only fair,” he acknowledged. “When and where?”

  “You can pick me up at twelve again,” I told him, grinning. I stood up to leave. “I’m glad you didn’t chicken out.”

  “That’s funny,” Ward said, his drawl more pronounced when he talked slowly like he was doing now. “I was going to tell you the exact same thing.”

  16

  Ward

  Emma was driving me crazy. She’d been standoffish and wary all week. I could accept that she had changed her mind after our ill-advised near phone sex session (that I had every intention of turning into a late-night visit to her bed). I could appreciate that she’d been willing to be honest about it and tell me she regretted it and
wanted to move on. And I could admit that I was sorely disappointed. What was driving me crazy was that the more time I spent around Emma, the more I wanted her.

  When I arrived at her apartment complex the next day at noon, Emma didn’t shoot out of the front door like a rocket, and I actually got to knock. The woman that opened the door, a tall, fierce-looking redhead, was not Emma.

  “You’d be Ward then,” she said in a British accent, looking me up and down with skeptical eyes. “Come on inside. She’ll be right with you. I’m Lily, her roommate.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I replied, going for charming as I looked around at the Ikea-decorated living room. The space was small, but clean and neat. Exactly what I expected from Emma. “How long have you lived with Emma?”

  “Only a few months but long enough to know how great she is.” Lily smiled at me in obvious warning. Hurt her and I’ll hurt you, her expression said. She perched on the edge of a chair and watched me with narrowed eyes. Like Emma, Lily had green eyes, but hers had none of Emma’s sea green soft dreaminess. She was all business. An uncomfortable silence filled the little apartment.

  After about thirty seconds, I couldn’t continue our staring contest. This woman was making me nervous. “How’s your boyfriend doing? I heard he was in a car accident.”

  “See for yourself,” Lily said, pointing at the man who’d just limped out around the corner following a toilet flush. “Ward, this is Ivan. Ivan, Ward. You know, Emma’s friend.” The emphasis clearly indicated that she wanted me to unpack the relationship between us, but I couldn’t even explain to myself, so I focused on Ivan.

  The tall, skinny, blonde fellow, who was wearing a leg brace from ankle to thigh, inched forward to shake my hand. “Hi, good to meet you,” he said. He didn’t have any of Lily’s menacing attitude. Actually, he seemed perfectly friendly. He had an accent as well, but I wasn’t sure where it was from. German maybe? Dutch? I’d never been particularly good at accents. For all I knew he could just be a Canadian with a lisp.

  “Same,” I said, gesturing to his knee. “Did you hurt your leg? I thought Emma said no one was hurt in the crash.”

  Ivan grimaced and leaned against his crutch. “I didn’t realize how bad it was at first. But yes, I seem to have tweaked a knee ligament.” He shook his head. “I should have listened to the paramedics and gone to the hospital, but I had to be all manly and insist I was fine.”

  I winced in sympathy for both his injury and his reaction, since I’d done both in my time. Knees are delicate, fickle, cruel creatures. “I destroyed all four of mine on the left side,” I told him. “I know how much that hurts. I hope you heal quickly.”

  “All four? At once?!” Ivan’s voice was horrified, which was the reaction that only someone who’d ever seriously injured their knee could truly understand. I nodded, not wanting to get into my career-ending injury with a stranger. I had ligaments from three different organ donors and one pig in my leg. Thankfully, Ivan didn’t dwell on the circumstances. “That sounds horrible. I’ve got an appointment with a surgeon next week to take a look. I’ll probably wait to go home to have surgery though, if I do need it. It’s too expensive here.”

  “Where’s your home?”

  “Copenhagen, Denmark.” Ivan looked wistful at just the mention of his homeland.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty hard to beat free, isn’t it?” I laughed, and he nodded and joined in. I didn’t know much about Denmark, but one of the things I did know was that practically all of Europe had socialized healthcare. Emma might think I was a total dunce, but I knew some things about the world. Too bad she wasn’t here to witness my small victory.

  “So, you work with Emma at the bar, isn’t that right?” Lily asked, clearly looking for details on me. I got the feeling that her boyfriend’s friendliness had just distracted her from her interrogation of me.

  “I do, yes. How did you meet her? Through school?”

  “Yes, all three of us are doing our graduate work in the English department.”

  Emma arrived then, coming in through the front door and looking rushed and sheepish. “Sorry I’m late!” She said, peering curiously around at her roommates and me. “I went to run a quick errand and it ended up taking forever. I got caught behind one of those old ladies that want to pay with a giant stack of expired coupons. It was excruciating.”

  I smiled at her. “No problem. I got a chance to meet Lily and Ivan.”

  She smiled back, but with a nervous, almost hysterical edge. “Wonderful. Ready to go?”

  I nodded, and Lily looked at us appraisingly. Her frown at me indicated that she wished she’d had more time to inspect me. “Be safe kids. Call me if you need anything Emma.”

  “I hope they weren’t mean to you,” Emma said as we walked down the stairs to my truck. “Lily in particular can come off a bit abrasive. Especially around new people.”

  “They were perfectly nice. I’m not sure Lily likes me much, but I think she’s just protective of you.”

  Emma shook her head, sending her blonde hair waving. She was wearing it down today, and I wanted to touch it. “She’s just British. They’re less immediately friendly than Americans, but if you’d have stuck around long enough, she’d have thawed out. She’s really quite sweet under her hard shell. Like an M&M. It’s just a cultural difference.”

  Emma probably even believed that. I let it drop. “So, where are we going?” I asked as I opened up the passenger door to my truck for Emma. She looked at my vehicle in surprise.

  “This thing is a tank,” she said. “How am I supposed to get up into it?”

  “One foot here,” I pointed, “grab here,” another point, “other foot here,” I gestured. She followed my instructions and hoisted herself up to swing into the seat. It was one of the most adorable things I’d ever seen. She settled in with as much dignity as she could muster.

  “But really, why do you need a truck this big?”

  “My mom lives on a ranch now. Sometimes I lug supplies out to her.”

  “So, it’s not to compensate for insecurities in other areas?”

  I laughed. “Not a problem I suffer from. Besides, you’ve got personal and photographic proof.”

  She flushed crimson. I’d really missed her blushes over the last week.

  “So, where are we going?” I repeated.

  Emma grinned, and challenge slipped back into her expression. Her confidence was back in the blink of an eye. “We’re going to an art exhibition.”

  Ugh. Kill me now. “Great.”

  17

  Ward

  Despite the fact that I owned and operated a bar just off campus, I’d never visited the Blanton Museum of Art that sat just on its southern edge. Emma led us toward the towering multistory building with a big smile on her face, and her enthusiasm began to transfer even though I’d never given a single shit for art before. She was all smiles this afternoon, and I liked it. I wanted to grab her hand but resisted. I wouldn’t make the first move.

  “What are we going to see?” I asked, curious if there as something specific she wanted to see. In a building this large, we could easily lose an afternoon without some sort of plan.

  “There’s a visiting exhibit I’ve been wanting to go to, it’s called ‘Medieval Monsters: Terrors, Aliens, and Wonders’.”

  “Monsters?” I wondered aloud, and she nodded.

  “Yeah, you know, griffons, sea serpents, mermaids, dragons, devils, demons, all that stuff that terrified the peasants and gave their children nightmares.”

  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

  “I like monsters,” I said carefully. This earned me a chuckle.

  “I thought you might.” Her voice was bland.

  Inside, we navigated up through the permanent collection to what Emma wanted to see. The first painting, a massive picture of what looked like an enormous, awkward weasel with scales and way too many feet. Half a peasant was hanging out of its gaping, toothy mouth. Everyone in the painting had extremely awkward
facial expressions, like the artist wasn’t sure how to convey anything but confusion. Even the monster looked somewhat surprised to find it had eaten someone. Its chubby body told a different story.

  “What is that even supposed to be?”

  Emma shrugged and looked at the little card. “It looks like a furry snake to me. It’s called ‘Taming the Tarasque’ and was painted in 1500.”

  I looked it up on my phone for more details. “Oh, that’s actually kind of sad,” I told her after a moment of reading. “Wikipedia says there was a legend of a beast that was terrorizing villagers. Many knights died yada yada yada. Eventually it was tamed by Saint Martha who played it hymns and prayed over it. Afterward she led it back to the village where the villagers attacked and killed it out of fear, even though it was being nice.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “Well on the upside, after that Saint Martha converted the pagan villagers to Christianity and everybody lived happily ever after.”

  Emma smirked at me. “Everybody but the Tarasque.”

  “Well, yeah. He kind of got the shitty end of the deal.”

  Moving on from the Tarasque, we walked on through the exhibit. There were a wide variety of weird, silly monsters represented. Some of them were just bizarre.

  “Imaginative,” I remarked as we passed by a topless mermaid who had wings, legs like a chicken, a harp, and a ton of drowned men around her.

  Emma looked at her face. “She looks very sad.”

  “I’d be sad too if I had chicken legs, a big scaly tail, and no shirt.”

  “It says she’s a siren,” Emma said. “The poem that goes with it apparently warns men to avoid the temptations of beautiful women who use their looks to hide their sin and lure men to their doom.”

  “Sounds like good advice,” I offered.

  Emma shook her head. “All these monsters are just ways that peasants were scared into obedience. Especially this one.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “By vilifying beauty, men can argue their superiority to women. They can pretend like women are sinful sources of lust, and so the men bear no responsibility. All these artworks are just about controlling people through fear and faith.” She pointed to the next drawing, three funny-looking guys wearing pointed hats and conferring with what looked like a devil. “See, that one’s just literally Jewish men talking to Satan. Blatant antisemitism.”