“Yes, with me. I have next Saturday off, and I don’t get many since I work on a rotation, and being one of the youngest and single, I usually let the guys with kids have the weekends so they can have family time. But it just so happens that I’m free this Saturday, and I’d love to take you somewhere for your twenty-first birthday.”
“You would?” Her eyes widen.
“Yes.”
“Me? You want to take me out?”
There’s something unsaid between ‘me’ and the words that follow. Like she can’t believe I want to spend time with her.
“Yes, I do.”
“To celebrate my birthday?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
A shadow crosses her eyes, but she doesn’t deny it.
“Why?”
Her simple question comes out in a whisper. I find it troubling that so many unsaid words can be conveyed in just three letters. Doubt, insecurity, and even some fear flash in her eyes. It tugs at my heart, and that’s an unfamiliar feeling. I'm truthful. Well, partially truthful. I can’t exactly say everything that’s running through my mind right now.
“There’s something about you I’m drawn to. I like you.”
She’s silent for a long moment, and I wait. I give her time to get used to the idea of my being attracted to her. She seems to have a hard time wrapping her head around the concept. When she answers me, there’s still doubt in her voice.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to get drunk.”
“You won’t get drunk,” I assure her.
“I promise, you’ll be safe. And we can do anything you want. Have dinner. Go to a movie, or a show, or dancing. Or you can let me surprise you. What do you like?”
“You mean, besides reading smut books?”
She makes a joke at her own expense and I love that about her. I’ve never cared for people who take themselves too seriously, and I’ve had a whole lot of that growing up among the richest families in New Canaan.
I laugh.
“Yes, besides that. Would you like to go out on a date with me and celebrate your birthday? I can arrange for a police escort,” I joke.
“On a date?”
Her voice is breathy, and it's doing things to me that are decidedly not PG.
There’s so much doubt in her tone, and it bothers me. I see disbelief and vulnerability. And then it hits me. The vulnerability. I’m drawn to it. I’m drawn to the doubt in her eyes and the timid way with which she carries herself. A small part of me, the part that sees some of my father in me, is repelled by it. But a much bigger part is fascinated by the openness I see in her.
There’s a tremendous amount of power in being vulnerable, in being open, in taking risks. Often, courage is measured against how brave one is, but now I wonder about a different kind of courage. The courage to expose oneself and the willingness to get hurt in the process. If I’m to measure myself by this yardstick, I’m a coward.
Before I can answer her, the chair next to Skye gets dragged back and River sits on it. The four-person table now sits three.
“Officer Hot Cop! I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
And then she attacks Skye’s untouched muffin.
“Who’s going on a date?” River asks after a bite.
I relax into my chair, my forearm on the table holding the cookie I have yet to bite. I look at River and point at Skye and then back at myself with the cookie.
“We are.”
River narrows her eyes at me.
“Did my sister work out a deal so she wouldn’t get a ticket?”
“No! There are no deals,” Skye grumbles.
“I didn’t say I agree to going out with you yet. It’s both our birthdays, and I haven’t talked to River about what she wants to do.”
She said yet. That’s not a no.
She looks at her sister. Is it a plea for help in her gaze?
“Well, I was thinking of going hang-gliding. Looked up a couple of places, but Becca organized this surprise party for me and a few friends pitched in, which is no longer a surprise since she had to tell me about it when I told her of my plans for our birthday.”
River takes another bite of the muffin.
“I would’ve told you before, but you got distracted by Hot Cop—”
“I got distracted? You were drunk! And then I didn’t see you all day.”
River ignores her.
“Anyway,” she continues, “they’re taking me to a male strip club. You’re invited too. Becca paid for our tickets.”
“You’re going to a strip club?” Skye asks.
“Yes, but it's for girls. With guys dancing, like Magic Mike.”
Skye is already shaking her head in a silent no.
“That was my initial reaction too. I don’t much care for some guy shaking his junk in my face. Watching it in a movie is one thing, but in real life and 3D? But you know Becca,” River says with a sigh. “I agreed to go, as long as they aren’t buying me any lap dances.”
River breaks another piece of the muffin and into her mouth it goes. Skye is mute.
“I can’t picture you in a stripper club. I hate to be apart on our birthday, but maybe you should go on a date with Hot Cop.”
River says it like I’m not here and can’t hear everything that comes out of her mouth.
“He has a name. It’s Logan. Not Hot Cop.”
River lifts an eyebrow at that, a little smirk forming on her face.
Skye is about to say something else when her phone starts vibrating. She pulls it out of the jacket pocket behind her.
“It’s Bruno,” she says distractedly.
“He’s at our door and wants to know where I am.”
She replies to the text message and puts the phone between us on the table, noticing for the first time that River is eating her muffin and pulling it back to her side. Half of it is gone.
“I told him we’re here.”
“So about this date,” River says, glancing at me. “You’re not going out with Bruno?”
“No, Bruno is going away for the weekend with Sidney.”
River huffs at that.
“Who’s Bruno?”
My voice is casual, but I’m feeling oddly irritated by this guy I don’t even know.
“Bruno is her fuck buddy,” River says with a shrug and a side glance at Skye. She does it on purpose, I can tell. Sisterly tease, or something else?
“He is not!” Skye is quick to deny.
“Friend with benefits, or whatever you want to call it. It's all the same.”
River says it with such a casualness, as if she’s talking about her favorite color and not her sister’s sex life.
Skye looks upset.
“Bruno is my friend, my best friend, and there are no benefits at all. At least none of what you’re talking about.”
River just rolls her eyes and tries to get another piece of Skye's muffin. Skye pulls it farther away, so River takes one of my cookies.
I raise an eyebrow at her but don’t say anything.
“I’m hungry. She’s not sharing hers with me, and you're not eating yours.”
The playful, fake innocent smile on her face tells me she’s used to getting away with this type of thing. She’s not exactly rude, but somewhat forceful. I pity the fool who falls for her. He’ll need balls of steel to put up with River.
I may know her for all of five minutes, but I can already tell she’s a force to be reckoned with. She manages to be pushy and cute about it.
There’s no denying she’s used to getting her way. And yet she doesn't seem to be full of herself.
Another chair drags back, and a tall, lean, and good-looking guy sits down opposite to River, but not before giving Skye a quick hug and kissing her on the top of her head.
They have similar coloring, but his hair is a darker blond, his eyes are also blue, and it's obvious he works out often when he takes his parka off and drapes it over the chair. His arms are ripped with lean muscl
e. And that annoys me. Not that I look any worse than him. Playing hockey for the last twenty years has made me strong and muscular as well, even if I no longer play for hours every day. I still get together with friends to play, and I work out almost every day. But this guy has an in with Skye and he looks like competition. I do not share well.
Just the thought of another guy near her pisses me off. The unwelcome possessiveness startles me. I’m not the jealous or possessive type.
The alpha-male domineering bullshit I witnessed growing up with a father like mine always made feel uneasy. I’d never been jealous of Amanda in all the years we were together. Or anyone else, for that matter.
I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not at all. I don’t know what to do with these feelings. They don’t sit well with me—feels like trying to put on clothes that are a few sizes too small. It doesn’t fit and makes me feel constricted.
So much for hoping this Bruno would be a bookish nerd. He’s anything but.
Bruno nods at River and then gives me his hand to shake, introducing himself.
“Hey, I’m Bruno. Nice to meet you, man.”
“Logan,” I say as I shake his hand. He has a firm handshake.
I’m looking for something to hate about the guy, for something to be wrong with him, but he’s friendly and seems nice. He puts an arm around Skye’s chair and nudges her toward him with a big grin.
“What’s up, Sugar? One more week and then I can get you drunk.”
A surge of irritation comes over me. I want to grab him by his preppy pink polo shirt and throw him out. Jesus Christ! What’s wrong with me?
“Oh-oh, better not say that in front of Officer Hot Cop. He hates drinking.”
“Who?” Bruno asks.
“Him.”
River points at me with my own cookie. Or half of it, rather.
“He’s a cop, and we got pulled over last night, and I don’t even want to know what Skye had to do to get out of the ticket. And now he’s taking her on a date so he can do more things to her I don’t want to know about.”
Bruno looks my way, assessing me with new eyes, and his hand curves protectively over Skye’s shoulder.
“Oh my God, River! Would you stop that? Nothing happened, okay?”
She glares at her sister.
“We got pulled over because I went through a yellow light and had a broken tail light. Logan thought I was drunk, but it was not me. It was River, and then he let us go. I ran into him a few minutes ago. That is all, end of the story.”
“Well, not the end of the story. Don’t forget your birthday date with me,” I say, gauging Bruno’s reaction.
Bruno surprises me when he says, “That’s cool. I won’t be here, and God knows what River would get you into. At least with a cop, I know you’ll be safe.”
He looks pointedly at me.
“Won’t she? Be safe, I mean.”
“She will.”
He earns respect from me with that question and the veiled threat behind the friendly words. Cop or no cop, I’m going after you if you hurt Skye.
“We didn’t decide—we’re just talking about it,” Skye says, looking uncertain still.
I don’t want to force her to go out with me. Hell, I’d never force a girl to do anything. I’m about to say something and give her an out. As much as I want to get to know her better, maybe I should run the opposite way. I’m much too interested, and I barely know more than her name. If I allow myself to go down this path . . . I don’t want to think about it.
Bruno leans closer to her and whispers something in her ear, then pulls back and asks her, “Okay?”
She glances at me, her face pink, and then back at Bruno and nods at him. When her eyes find me again, the blush intensifies. She bites her lower lip and speaks, her voice tentative, as if she’s not used to the words she’s saying.
“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you.”
Then she adds, “For my birthday.”
As if that’s the only reason anyone would want to take her on a date. It bothers me, but I don’t let it show and smile instead. I’m excited about it. It feels like the first real date I’ve had since high school. The newness and expectation of it send a thrill through me.
At that, Bruno grabs her phone, enters the lock screen code, and taps the screen a few times and then points it at me and takes my picture before I even know what he’s doing.
“What’s your number?”
I give him my number and he enters it into the phone.
“So, should I put this under Logan or Officer Hot Cop?” he asks Skye with a smirk.
“Logan Cole,” I say at the same time River says, “Officer Hot Cop.”
He taps the screen a few more times and my phone vibrates.
“There, now you have her number too, and I sent you a picture so you can add it to the contacts.”
“You sent him a picture? Which one?”
“Don’t worry,” Bruno says. “It's a cute one.”
She tries to grab her phone from him, but he holds his arm high, keeping it away from her.
Curious, I grab my phone and key my code in and look at the picture. I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face. It’s a beautiful picture. It had to be taken in the summer because Skye is wearing a sundress, and the sun is low on the horizon behind her, giving her face an ethereal glow, her hair floating in the wind. She’s not looking at the camera but is lost in thought, and I wonder what she was thinking about then.
Oh, man, fuck! I have to stop this giddy high school crap I have going on right now.
It’s just a pretty girl.
Nothing else.
Soon enough, she’ll show her true colors. They always do.
Don’t get stupid over it. A plan. I need a plan so I know where I stand before this goes any further.
Pat stops by, gives River and Bruno their own cups of coffee, and puts a plate in the middle of the table filled with pastries. She ruffles Bruno’s hair like a mother would. “Hey, big boy. How’s the family?”
He shrugs.
“Same as always, Pat.”
He reaches in his pocket for his wallet, but Pat waves him off.
“Pay me next time.”
“You always say that. But next time never comes.”
Pat puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. He covers her hand with his.
“Thank you.”
She waves him off again and walks back to the counter.
All eyes are on Bruno, but he makes no eye contact with me or River. He looks quickly at Skye, who in turn squeezes his hand on the table and then turns to the plate of food.
“Dibs on the chocolate croissant.”
River is studying Bruno with intent eyes, but surprisingly enough, she says nothing.
Bruno pushes the plate over to Skye. She grabs the croissant and pushes the plate to River, who takes a cupcake before offering me the plate.
I shake my head.
“Still got my cookies, thanks.”
“So, this date you two are going on,” River says to me.
“Where are you going and what are you doing?”
Chapter Five
I haven’t seen Logan since the morning we met at Pat’s. If it wasn’t for the texts he’s been sending me every day, throughout the day, I’d think he’s changed his mind.
My phone rings, and the sound of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper tells me Mom is calling me.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. I heard you got yourself a hot cop.”
Freaking River. She already blabbed about my date with Logan.
“Oh, River told you?”
“Yes. Are you excited about it?”
“Mom.”
“Honey, it’s a date, not marriage. Just go and have fun. If you don’t like him by the end of the date, say thank you and goodbye. You’re not obligated to do it again.”
“Have you met me? I’m so bad at this.”
“You worry too much. Li
ve a little. Enjoy yourself and your body while you’re still young.”
“I’m not good at that either.”
“There’s nothing wrong with some casual dating and hooking up. As long as you both know it's just that, casual, so no one gets hurt.”
I have the most open-minded mother in the universe. Dad is not far behind her.
“You know what I always say, Skye.”
“What’s good for the goose is good for the gander,” we say at the same time.
It's her personal motto and a not so subtle stab at misogyny. Gender equality and all that, starting at the very core of what makes men and women different—sex.
“I know it's cliché, but what people have between their legs should not dictate how they live their lives.”
“I know. You’re right.”
“Honey, don’t allow what happened before tarnish who you are today and how to live your life.”
“Mistakes have a way of following you around.”
“There are no mistakes in life. Only lessons. You learned from it. Now you have to bless it and let it go, or you’ll be chained to it for the rest of your life.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Ugh, I sound like Eeyore.
“I know it’s not easy. The mind has a way to loop back to the very things we want to forget. Not wanting to think about something is the same as thinking about it. The trick is to replace those thoughts with new ones. Until you create a new loop.”
Create a new loop? Could Logan be it? Could he be the man to give me something new to think about?
“Okay, Mom. I promise to give this date a real try.”
“You have to step out of your comfort zone. Take a risk. Listen to your heart.”
“I will. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Talk to you soon.”
I tried this before. After my high school boyfriend disaster, I thought maybe it was just what I needed to do. Be less picky and hang out with a guy and not think beyond the moment. But I can’t do casual. It doesn’t work for me. I can’t make myself be with a guy just because he’s cute or I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night.
There has to be something more. Maybe something is wrong with me. Unlike most of the girls in high school, I was never boy-crazy. I very rarely felt attracted to a guy. My one and only high school boyfriend was pretty much the only guy I’d been interested in, and we were together for six months. Until he got what he wanted, that is. He was one patient jerk, I’ll give him that. I don’t think many guys would have stuck around, pretending to love me for so long, just so they could take my virginity and then brag about it.
Because of Logan Page 4