“You know what?” I say more to myself than Harper. “This is stupid.”
Harper watches with a worried look as I tap away at my phone. As soon as I send the text, she shifts her eyes back to the hot skillet in front of her. “Did you finally text Linus?”
“No,” I say, my voice too forceful. “I told Zeke I’m free tonight.”
I practically threw myself at Linus, and he pushed me away. That’s just fine. Fine.
Several seconds later, Zeke sends a reply. I’ll pick you up at your aunt’s house at seven.
Well. That’s that.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The house is empty when I arrive twenty minutes before Zeke is supposed to pick me up. Marissa’s at her conference. It’s too still, too quiet. Everything is immaculate. Throw blankets are carefully folded and placed on the armrests of the couches, the firewood holder is stocked with perfectly symmetrical logs.
It’s lonely. Seriously, why doesn’t my aunt have a cat?
I drop my bag on my bed and start dressing for tonight’s date, but my heart’s just not into it. For several minutes, I debate calling to cancel, but the thought of spending the rest of the night alone in Marissa’s too-perfect living room doesn’t exactly appeal to me.
I’m just securing my last sleek silver earring when there’s a knock at the door. He’s ten minutes late.
I step back, checking my reflection in the mirrored closet door. I have no idea where Zeke plans on taking me, so I’m wearing jeans, ballet flats, and a burnt orange sleeveless top that I can throw a jacket over later if it gets cold. My hair’s up in a sleek bun, and my eye makeup is quite a bit darker than normal, just because that’s what Zeke seems to prefer.
I know I look good. I just wish I could get more excited about it.
There’s another knock.
With a sigh, I sling my purse over my shoulder and head to the front room. After taking a deep breath, I open the door. And there, right on the step, stands Linus.
His eyes widen in surprise when he sees me, and then he jabs his thumbs in his belt loops and looks at the door trim, avoiding my eyes. “Looks like you have a date.”
My heart plummets to my feet. “Linus…”
After several moments, he looks back and studies me. “That’s a lot of makeup.”
I’m speechless for several moments, feeling almost like he just slapped me. “I—”
“You look amazing, Riley.” He gives me a tight smile. “It’s just not you.”
Bristling, I say, “And how would you know?”
Linus takes a step forward, and his light hazel eyes meet mine. Then he quietly says, “The question is, do you?”
I cross my arms, and my throat tightens. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you lie to impress Zeke—you set up a table every Saturday morning selling stuff you couldn’t care less about, and now you’re changing the way you look.”
“Maybe this is me.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I saw the real you.”
“How can you be so sure about that?” I demand.
He closes the distance between us, but the gesture is far from romantic. “You never hid yourself from me—because I never meant enough to you.”
At the worst possible time, a small car pulls into the drive next to his truck. Linus glances over his shoulder and almost rolls his eyes when Zeke steps out.
“Right,” Linus says, walking backward. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Linus, wait—”
He turns his back on me and jogs down the steps. Zeke passes Linus, and then his lips crook up into a very tiny smirk. “Later, Bradford.”
Linus doesn’t answer, and I can only stare after him. My stomach churns with anxiety, and I don’t know what to do. Should I go after him? Judging from the look he gave me, it’s a little too late.
My chest hurts, and I can’t take a deep breath. What if he’s right? What if I constantly change myself to please whoever I’m with? I bent over backward trying to get Harrison’s attention. I lied so Zeke would give me the time of day. Am I that pathetic?
Linus starts his truck, puts it into gear, and then glances up at me. Our eyes lock, and I open my mouth, ready to holler something but I have no idea what. He shakes his head and pulls out of the drive.
Zeke, oblivious to my turmoil, rakes his eyes over me and then slides an arm around my back. He pulls me far too close considering we barely know each other and whispers in my ear, “I had plans for the evening, but you’re looking so hot…maybe we should stay in instead?”
I laugh like it’s a joke—though I’m fairly certain it’s not—and pull away. Zeke still smells good; he still looks good. He’s everything I wanted…but.
But he’s not Linus.
Taking a deep breath, I push it all aside. I’m not going to dwell on this right now.
“Where are we going?” I don a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes.
I finally take a good look at his car—a good long look. It’s white and small. Definitely not a motorcycle. It isn’t the type of car you get into; you put it on. The kind that if you were hit by a semi, you wouldn’t crash…you’d bounce like a golf ball. On the bright side, it probably gets good gas mileage.
It’s clean on the inside, almost as immaculate as my aunt’s house. I glance into the backseat, looking for any sign of life, maybe a blanket for his dog or a gym bag or something.
But it’s perfectly empty.
Zeke slides into the driver’s seat. It’s almost comical how big he is compared to the car. He glances over as he starts the engine and an old seventies song begins playing. “Do you like old rock?”
Detest it. Like, nails on a chalkboard hate it.
My first impulse is to tell him it’s fine, that I like whatever, but Linus’s words come back to haunt me. “It kind of sucks.”
“Zoe hates it too,” he says with a dark laugh as he backs out of the drive, not bothering to change the music. “The whole way to Nevada she whined at me to turn it off.”
“Oh…you drove together?” I ask.
He slides his aviator sunglasses on. Despite horrible taste in music, he’s certainly fashionable. I let my eyes wander over his arms, let myself remember why I was attracted to him in the first place.
As I settle into the seat, I decide my confrontation with Linus won’t ruin this night. He had a chance, and he ran away. That was his choice. I can and will enjoy myself. Pushing thoughts of him out of my mind, I motion toward the back. “Where did you put all your canvases and things?”
Zeke glances over. “I don’t need that for Vegas. Zoe and I do body painting every year.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. All that comes to mind is the face painting booths that we used to set up for school carnivals, but that can’t be what he means.
“What exactly does that entail?”
We come to a stoplight, and he looks over, raising a dark eyebrow. When he sees that I’m serious, his mouth tilts in a wicked smile. “I have pictures on my phone. Check them out.”
Feeling a little sick because I remember the last time a guy gave me his phone, I click on the photo icon. It takes me several moments to realize what I’m looking at. “You paint…people.”
But it’s not people. It’s women. Blinking, I peer at the picture closer. Naked women. I mean, they don’t look naked with all that paint on them…but they had to have started that way.
“It’s totally fine,” he assures me. “Very professional.”
I set his phone aside, seriously disconcerted. “Wow…that’s…something.”
“Awesome, right?” He grins, completely oblivious.
We’re turning onto the highway, and I realize we’re leaving town. “Where are we going?”
He turns the music down when a particularly loud and abrasive song comes on. “I’m taking you to this awesome show that’s opening tonight at the Bryan Moore Theater.”
That’s over two hours away. Gl
ancing at his phone, I frown. Judging from his taste in music and art, I’m not sure this date was a good idea. “What kind of show?”
“It’s hard to explain—it’s kind of like a play, kind of like an interpretive dance.” He smiles. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I did some theater in high school with my friend,” I say after a long lull in the conversation.
“Broadway stuff, most likely,” he says, obviously unimpressed as he drums his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song. “So, you probably know a bunch of show tunes?”
I’m about to answer him, to tell him that I do and I like them, when his phone rings. Since it’s still sitting right next to me, I glance at the screen before Zeke picks it up. It’s Zoe, and the picture that comes up when she calls is the two of them splotched with paint and pressed together, smiling at the camera with brushes held in the air.
“What do you want?” he says without a preamble, and my eyebrows shoot up.
I’m not sure what she says, but he’s sharp with her, giving her one-word responses. It suddenly hits me. They had a fling in Vegas, and now they’re fighting.
“No, I’m with Riley,” he all but snarls into the phone. He pauses a moment. “Yeah, that’s right, the girl from dinner.”
I fidget, uncomfortable. Her voice grows loud enough I can hear every single uncomplimentary thing Zoe says about me. My face grows hot, and I stare out the window, watching the passing scenery as the sky grows dark.
After several more minutes, he slams the phone on the console and stares straight ahead. He watches the road with single-minded focus, and then, a few moments later, clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wave like it’s not a problem.
He’s quiet most of the rest of the drive, and I’m relieved when we finally reach the city. Before we get out, Zeke looks over and rubs a spot behind his ear. “Riley, about…”
I raise my eyebrows, waiting.
“Zoe and I have sort of dated on and off. We’ve had this thing going on, but it’s too hostile, you know? I’m ready for something else.”
I think back to the date he had with the girl at the pub. Maybe Zoe’s hostile because he keeps dating other girls while he’s dating her. Just a thought.
He sighs and rests his head back. “I’m not sure I’m up for a show. How about we get some dinner and unwind?”
Thank goodness. “That sounds like a great idea.”
***
Terrible idea. It was a terrible idea.
When Zeke said “dinner,” he was speaking of the liquid variety. I sit with him at a table in a nice, dark restaurant, listening to how Zoe is the love of his life as I sip on ginger ale. This is easily the worst date I’ve ever been on.
I rest my chin on my palm and take another long sip from my straw. “Then you probably shouldn’t have cheated on her,” I say reasonably.
Zeke groans and holds his head in his hands. “She told me to go with them if I wanted to.”
“She obviously didn’t mean it.” I pick at the remnants of the cold appetizer that sits on the table between us. “That’s kind of a no-brainer.”
He looks up, his hair disheveled and his gorgeous eyes sleepy. “You’re so amazing, Riley.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know.”
The waitress comes by with another beer for Zeke, but I subtly shake my head and motion her off. He’s had more than enough.
“I’ve ruined our night, haven’t I?” He lets his hands trail through his hair, and his palms settle at his temples.
“Yep.”
“Do you think I might still have a chance with you?” Zeke attempts to give me a sultry look, but he just looks sloppy. And not in an endearing way. “Cause…you’re crazy hot.”
I let out a long sigh. “Nope.”
Drunk guys…just yuck. They’re so clingy and emotional, and I have never understood the appeal.
“Give me your wallet.” I hold out my hand.
He blinks at me. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re paying the bill.”
After thinking about it for a moment, his alcohol-muddled brain must decide it’s a good idea, and he digs into his back pocket. Careful not to look around too closely, I find enough cash for the bill and a considerable tip and slap it on the table.
“All right,” I say. “I’m going to drive you home now.”
He’s not so drunk he can’t walk, but he stumbles a bit as we leave. I help him outside, and as soon as we’re out the door, he plants a sloppy kiss on the side of my neck and says suggestively, “Hey, Riley…”
I slap a hand over his mouth. “Don’t finish that thought. And keep your lips to yourself.”
We wander down the street, and I only half listen to Zeke as he alternatively tells me how wonderful Zoe is and how hot I am.
“You know,” I say as I yank him in the right direction. “All those good looks are kind of wasted on you.”
He gives me a knowing look, and then he stumbles. “I hear that all the time.”
“No kidding.”
When we finally make it to the curb where we parked the car, I stop so abruptly that Zeke walks right into the back of me. Laughing under his breath, he sets his hands on my shoulders and starts playing with my hair. I bat him away and growl.
His tiny car has been completely blocked in by a huge SUV and a van. There’s maybe three inches in the front and five at the back. I check my watch. It’s almost midnight, and there’s a hotel next door. I doubt these two are moving before morning.
“Now what?” I say, but I’d have better luck getting an answer from the streetlight than Zeke.
Groaning, I pull out my phone. Exactly two hours and twenty-three minutes later, a familiar truck pulls up.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I can’t even look at Linus; I’m so humiliated. I didn’t have anyone else to call—Marissa’s at her conference, and my hometown is over four hours away.
Linus gets out of his truck and scowls, disgusted, at Zeke, who’s asleep in the backseat of the car. I’ve been sitting on the curb the entire time, waiting for Linus. I stand up, feeling extremely self-conscious, and pull my purse over my shoulder.
“Do you want to leave him here or toss him into the back of the pickup?” Linus says, not even bothering to say hello.
“Leave him here. He can sleep it off and drive back in the morning.” I open Zeke’s car door, hide the keys under the driver’s seat for him to find tomorrow, and hit the locks. “There. He’s all tucked in for the night.”
Linus nods me toward his truck. He even opens my door. Feeling as low as pond slime, I crawl in and wrap my arms around myself.
“Cold?” he asks when he gets inside.
I shake my head, but he turns the heat on low anyway.
He doesn’t talk after that; he doesn’t ask questions. We ride in complete and total silence—he doesn’t even turn the radio on.
Over and over I rehearse things I should say, but I can’t seem to spit them out. Linus’s words from earlier keep churning in my head, making me ill.
He pulls in front of Aunt Marissa’s house just after two in the morning. I should say something. We can’t leave it like this. It feels like if we do, we won’t ever go back to being us.
I sit for a moment, trying to find the right words, but they refuse to come. Just as I’m getting out, I turn back. “Thank you.”
Still looking straight ahead, he nods. “No problem.”
“Yes, it was.” I need him to understand how much I appreciate what he did for me tonight. Setting my purse aside, I lean over the console and slide my palms over his cheeks and turn his head, making him look at me. I inhale sharply when his eyes meet mine. He looks dejected, more vulnerable than I expected, and it hurts me to look at him. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. “It means the world to me that you came.” I pause, trying to control my voice. “You mean the world to me.”
His
eyes are still on mine, but he looks like he’s about to move away. Before he can, I slide out my side of the truck and hurry inside.
***
“Are you and Linus okay?” Lauren asks.
I’ve switched the phone to speaker, and I lie on my bed, staring at the photo of the two of us together at Yellowstone. “I don’t know what we are, Lauren.”
“But he rescued you last night?”
“Yeah, but he barely said two words to me.” I set the photo as my wallpaper and then place the phone on my stomach so I don’t have to look at it. “I’ve really screwed it up this time, Laur.”
“I’m sure you—”
“Am I a fake?” I blurt out.
She’s quiet for a moment. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just something Linus said, and I’m starting to wonder.”
“Maybe sometimes,” Lauren says quietly. “And only with some people.”
“Some people meaning guys?”
“Only guys you want to impress.”
“I don’t even know who I am. I’m not a cheerleader anymore; I’m not one of the popular girls. I don’t have any hobbies. Everything I identified myself with was in high school, and now it’s gone, and I—”
“You want to know who you are? You’re my very best friend. You’re the daughter your mom can always ask to help with the twins. You’re the girl who suffered through art and theater just because you knew I enjoyed it. And though you don’t know it, you’re lovable, Riley. You just have to find a guy that you’re not afraid to show yourself to.”
I sniffle a couple times. “Thanks, Lauren.”
Just as I’m about to change the subject, let this one go, the phone notifies me I have an incoming call.
“I have someone on the other line,” I tell her, but when I see who it is, I almost ignore him. Cringing, I say, “I’ll call you right back, Lauren, okay?”
She hangs up, and I answer the call before it goes to voicemail—though I probably should have let it. “Hi, Zeke.”
“Hey, Riley,” Zeke says in that dark, delectable voice of his. It’s a shame that it’s so nice when he’s not drunk. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I don’t usually let it go that far, it’s just that Zoe really got in my head and—”
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