by M. A. Grant
I wrap the towel around my waist as she fumes on the counter. ‘I can’t believe you lied to me!’
I pull open the curtain and point at the door. ‘Get out.’
She crosses her arms over her chest and wrinkles her freckled nose at me. ‘No. Not until you agree to help me.’
Fine. Two can play at that game.
She screeches when I lift her up and throw her over my wet shoulder, opening the bathroom door and carrying her out into the hall. She keeps snarling promises of intense pain and suffering to me as I carry her to her room. I force myself to not stare at the perfect ass right by my cheek and instead toss her onto her bed.
She hits and bounces to a rest. Her hair has flown over her face and she sputters as she pushes it out of her eyes, ‘Dallas Miller, this is not over!’
I grin at her, anger replaced by admiration. Cat has no concept of surrender. ‘It is for this morning, brown eyes.’
I give her a mock salute and back to the door. She’s reaching down beside her bed and picking up a flip-flop. I duck out into the hall and close the door. A delicate thud shivers the wood.
‘You’re going to agree eventually!’ she yells through the door.
I tilt my head back against the wall and heave a sigh. I’m starting to worry Cat’s right about that. Worse, I wouldn’t mind.
***
Time is ticking and it’s time to give up on Dally. Short of getting naked and putting myself in his bed—which might not be a horrible plan—I’ve got no other options left. I really expected trapping him in the bathroom this morning to work. Feeling a little sorry for myself, I call Maya.
‘He still said no,’ I tell her.
Maya’s sigh says it all.
‘I need to text Tom. How do I do this?’
‘You’re going to have to talk to him. As in, have a normal conversation with him that doesn’t involve talk of hymens or his being your second choice for this venture.’
‘Okay. No hymens and no sloppy seconds.’
A tiny cackle escapes me when Maya mumbles something about me being an embarrassment to women everywhere. ‘Ask him how his finals went or something,’ she suggests. ‘That way if he says they were good you can offer to go out for a celebratory drink. And if they were bad …’
‘We go out for drinks of commiseration?’ I ask, trying to fill in the blank.
‘Good. He sounds boring enough that that should work.’
‘He tried to hook up with me at a party once, so I don’t think he’ll say no.’
‘Oh God, honey, really? If that’s the case, I have to veto him on principle—’
‘Vetoing is not allowed. I ask him out for drinks … That’s it? I don’t have to do anything special?’
‘No. Stop overthinking this. And please, please don’t tell me how it went. I’d prefer to imagine you tangled up with your hot tattooed man instead of someone who thinks sweater vests are a thing.’
‘He only wore them in the fall and winter. Now he wears polos with his chinos.’
‘I’m hanging up now.’
‘I love you. Wish me luck.’
‘Good luck,’ she mumbles and I end the call.
The clock warns me it’s nearing lunch. I call Dally and wait while it rings. A moment later, he picks up.
‘What?’ he growls.
‘Want lunch?’
‘Give me a half hour. This engine is seriously fucked up.’ I hear a faint metallic protest and Dally grunts.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask, curiosity piqued.
‘Hang on—’
My purse is hanging on a chair in the kitchen. I check to make sure I’ve got everything, listening absently.
He must put the phone down because all I hear is some heavy breathing, deep grunts, and a slow, metallic screech. Dally croons a quiet stream of filth as he works on the offending part. The screech stops and the timbre of Dally’s voice changes.
‘There we go, baby,’ he’s whispering. ‘See, it wasn’t so bad. I told you I’d take care of you. You can trust me, sweetheart—’
I melt onto the chair, knees weak, skin on fire. My heartbeat is throbbing between my legs. If I give in to temptation and reach down my shorts at the moment, I’m pretty sure I’ll come on accident.
He picks the phone back up. ‘You still with me, brown eyes?’
My breath is shaky. ‘Dallas Miller, can you say that again?’
His amusement seeps through the phone line. ‘Why?’
‘Because if you do, I’m pretty sure I’ll have the best orgasm of my life.’
There’s a loud bang, followed by the skitter of a phone being dropped, and Dally starts swearing again.
I listen to his litany of inventive curses until he picks up his phone. ‘Cat! What the actual fuck—’
Hmm. He sounds upset. I try to evade the lecture. ‘What do you want for lunch?’
‘Shit!’
‘Gross,’ I reply, pulling myself together and ignoring the pulse between my legs. My flip-flops are waiting by the front door and I slip them on as I grab my keys. ‘I’m not eating any form of poo for lunch, so you need to come up with something better.’
‘Cat, this has got to stop—’
‘I’m getting us subs,’ I say over his protests. ‘See you in a bit.’
By the time I show up at the garage, Dally’s waiting for me. His dark eyes are fixed on me as I approach and he doesn’t look happy. I wave to a few of his co-workers and hold out the paper bag toward him. ‘I bring a peace offering.’
‘My head is killing me,’ he tells me evenly. ‘You made me hit it on the inside of the hood.’
‘How do you expect me to react when you’re whispering sweet nothings into the phone?’
He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. ‘To the engine, Cat. Not to you.’
I shrug. ‘I’m an equal opportunity perv. Sue me.’
He snatches the bag from my hand and stalks toward the back of the shop. Angelo, Dally’s boss, waves as I pass by the office window. I grin and wave back, scurrying after Dally as he heads to the break room.
It’s a familiar place. Dally’s already thrown a paper floor mat down on the plastic-covered couch so I don’t get anything on my clothes. I slip off my flip-flops and sit cross-legged. Dally tosses me my sandwich and drops some coins into the soda machine.
‘Coke?’ he asks.
‘As always,’ I reply. He lobs me the cool can before putting in more change and getting his orange soda.
‘How can you drink that stuff?’ I ask him as I check my phone. Still no messages from Tom. Curses. ‘Did you wake up one day and think, you know what sounds good? Carbonated orange Jell-O.’
‘Says the girl who drinks green tea?’ he throws back. His voice goes into a falsetto mockery of mine. ‘Hmm, I believe tea would be delightful this morning. What? I’m out of tea bags? No matter. I’ll just take a dirty sock and fill it with lawn clippings.’
‘You’re such a dick.’
He glances up from his sandwich, mischief dancing in his eyes. ‘No, brown eyes, I have such a dick. And you want it bad.’
There are no words that would provide a good enough response. So I throw a slice of avocado at him. It splats squarely against his cheek. He sighs and peels it off, dropping it into the bag before licking his fingers. I have to look away, still too aware of my earlier tingles from that phone call.
I’m about halfway done with my sandwich when I get a text from Tom. His finals are done now too; they sucked. I quickly type in the response Maya taught me about consolatory drinks and put my phone back down. I don’t want Dally getting suspicious.
I manage two more bites before it dings again. He thinks drinks sound great. Offers to pick me up tonight.
Score!
Dally notices my grin as he’s wiping off his hands. ‘Why are you so happy?’
I finish my response and slip my phone back in my purse. ‘Because I’m here with you,’ I answer sweetly.
‘You
can’t lie for shit,’ he mutters. But he hangs out with me until I finish my lunch too.
Once our trash is thrown away, we head back out toward the main garage. He walks me to Old Blue and leans against the door while I start her up.
‘Should I be worried you haven’t tried to jump my bones yet?’ he asks. His voice is bland, just a hint of curiosity present.
‘Nope. I’ve decided there’s not point risking our friendship by pressuring you so much.’
Oops, that was too much. Now he’s leaning down to peer through my open window. Suspicion makes his eyes darken.
‘Unless you want me to pressure you?’ I add quickly.
He frowns. ‘I don’t trust you.’
‘You know me too well,’ I joke. ‘See you at home.’
His hands tap against Old Blue’s door, but he eventually steps back and lets me leave. I glance at the clock. I’ve probably only got four hours before Dally will be back home. God willing, that will be enough time to find an outfit for tonight’s date with Tom.
Day 2 — Evening
‘Are you done yet?’ Cat asks through the door. Again.
It’s taken me nearly an hour to scrub the oil off me after a particularly messy day at the shop. This final once over is for no reason other than enjoying how it feels to be clean. However, my peace keeps getting interrupted because Cat wants to use this bathroom instead of Jake’s for some reason. Screw it. I beat her to it and she’s going to have to suck it up.
‘Daaaaa-lly!’
For the fifth time, I stick my head outside the shower curtain. This time I yell back, ‘Are you going to steal my towel again?’
Silence from the other side of the door. ‘No.’
‘Then you can come in.’
My first warning that this night’s about to go to hell is Cat’s dressed up. She’s got on a pair of tight jeans and a loose lace shirt that flutters around her waist. It’s modest¸ but on her it looks like a wet dream. She meets my eyes in the mirror as she brushes out her hair. ‘What?’
‘Are you going out?’
‘Maybe.’
‘With Maya?’
She wrinkles her nose and finishes tossing up her hair into some soft bun thing. The style exposes the long, delicate line of her throat and I want nothing more than to taste that soft skin. Her answer does not please me. ‘No.’
My fingers curl around the curtain edge. ‘When’s he getting here?’
There’s a pause in her make-up application. ‘About five minutes.’
We hold each other’s stare in the mirror. Despite my being pissed off that she avoided mentioning her date until this inevitable moment, I can still admit it was well played. I reach behind me slowly and turn off the shower. Her brush wavers.
I need to keep her talking. Lull her into a false sense of security before beating her out of this room to meet the bastard in person. ‘Would I know him?’
She slowly returns to her routine. She doesn’t seem to notice when I slowly pull my towel into the shower. ‘No. We met in a class last semester. We haven’t had time to catch up until now.’
‘Should I wait up?’
Her tremble gives me all the information I need.
‘We’re going out to dinner,’ she says. She’s almost done with her make-up.
The towel’s tight around my waist. When I pull the curtain aside, she jerks toward the door, but freezes when she sees I’m watching her. Stalemate.
I smile and roll my shoulders. ‘Well, have fun.’
Neither of us moves. Then the doorbell rings.
I bolt for the door, but she’s right there with me. She slams the door shut before I can force my way past her. I growl my frustration, but she’s plastered herself against the damn thing.
‘Let me go introduce myself,’ I say, deliberately keeping my voice light.
‘Why? So you can threaten to skin him alive?’ She goes up on tiptoe, which really doesn’t mean much. But it’s cute to see her get all spunky. ‘No, Dally. Not this one.’
Jealousy straightens my spine, leaving me glaring down at her. ‘Why not? What’s so special about him?’
The doorbell rings again.
‘Please, Dally! It’s a night out. Dinner, maybe some dessert.’
Every instinct demands I ignore her pleading and go out to meet this guy. To see if he’s as big a douche as I fear. But she reaches out, placing her hand on my ribs, and her mouth sets firmly in frustration.
‘I’m going out on a date. I haven’t been on a date for a while. I just want to have some fun. Please.’
She hasn’t been out in over four months. Not that I’ve been keeping track. She senses my hesitation. ‘Dally—?’
I scrub at my hair with a hand and wish I had another option. But I don’t.
‘Have fun,’ I finally get out through gritted teeth.
Her smile is rapturous as she abandons her spot to put her make-up away. I focus my rage at the door, wishing I could rip it off its hinges. But I don’t move for it. Her trust can’t be broken. She ducks out of the bathroom and hurries toward the front door. I take a few deep breaths before I follow her out into the hall, still wrapped in the towel.
The guy greeting her is my antithesis. A polo and chinos. A heavy watch on his wrist. Coiffed hair. The kind of Boy Scout goodness that makes my lip curl. And Cat is going on a date with him.
She waves to me once before closing the door behind her.
She doesn’t want to fuck him. She wants to date him. I don’t know whether to laugh or punch the wall.
The hall clock says it’s only seven-thirty. Looks like I’ll have plenty of time to decide.
***
Dinner with Tom is … boring. I try my best to keep conversation up, but my mind keeps drifting away to a much different man. One who was irrationally pissed off when he learned I was going out. One who I swear looked hurt when I waved goodbye.
‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure you were ever going to call,’ Tom’s saying.
I smile politely at him and take another sip of my water. ‘Things have been busy lately.’
He nods sagely, a foreign behaviour for a guy my age. ‘What are your plans after graduation?’
We chat about safe topics. He never once points out the man sitting two tables over has a toupee that resembles a rat terrier. Dally wouldn’t have missed that. But Dally also wouldn’t have been caught dead in a wine bistro like this. He’d rather have a greasy burger.
‘So, do you live alone in that huge place?’
I blink and refocus. Tom’s a little nervous after asking that question. It takes me a moment to realise he’s attempting to find out where this night is going. Maybe I’m not the only desperate one.
‘No. My brother and I live there. He’s in Houston right now for some training.’
Tom looks a little more hopeful. Some perverse part of me blabs out the rest.
‘But Dallas, my brother’s best friend, is there right now. He’s lived with us for a while.’
‘Oh.’
We return to neutral topics again. It’s not long before we’re done with dinner and heading back to his car. There seems to be no spark between us. Tom is stiff and formal. When I’d talked to him in class, those traits were beneficial, fitting for a guy who plans on working in an East Coast firm. But I’m not interviewing him for a job. I’m trying to find out if I want to have sex with him. And so far the presentation is about as exciting as statistics on staff copier use.
Tom opens the car door for me. I thank him and slip inside, wondering if it’s too soon to try to call it a night. I’m a miserable failure. Dally’s gone and messed with my head.
This should just be sex. Tons of college students hook up randomly all the time. What part of this process am I not understanding?
Tom’s getting in. He buckles his seat belt, but doesn’t start the car yet. Instead, he clears his throat. ‘Some of the other business and econ majors are over at Lou’s celebrating. I think you’d know most of them. Do you
want to go over there for a bit?’
Do I?
Tom smiles at me. I remind myself he and I had seemed to click at that party earlier this year. Maybe this date’s going poorly because we’re both nervous. Maybe I just need to relax and stop stressing about how things are going completely off-plan.
I smile back at him. ‘That sounds great.’
The good news is I do recognise most of the group Tom and I join at Lou’s. I’m not close with any of them, but at least they’re familiar faces. Tom orders us glasses of wine. I sip at mine, grateful when conversation starts flowing more easily and some of my nervousness disappears. Tom’s in the same boat; he keeps glancing at me and giving me funny smiles that may not get me hot, but at least make me feel pleasantly warm. Like a heating pad set on low.
I’m beginning to think this night could still be salvaged when I hear the faux-shocked, ‘Catherine? Oh, my God, is it you?’
It can’t be.
I turn, plastering a fake smile on my face.
Oh, but it is.
‘Robin!’ I say with the same level of fake enthusiasm. ‘What are you doing here?’
She tilts her head back and laughs. I hate her laugh. It’s the throaty purr of a woman who has had far too many dicks in her mouth.
Yikes, that was a bit catty. I eye my wine glass. Probably should start to cut back.
‘Just enjoying a last night out before graduation.’
Tom comes to my side, placing his hand primly around my waist. ‘Like us,’ he says.
Robin gives him a quick once-over. Tom’s a good-looking guy, clean cut and very small town America. Kind of like a politician’s son during election year. She gives me a smarmy smile. ‘Isn’t it fun to celebrate?’
My cheeks are starting to hurt from keeping this stupid smile in place. ‘Nothing better.’
Tom’s trying hard to be polite. ‘Would you like to join us?’ He gestures toward our group. ‘I can get you a glass of wine if you’d like?’
Robin chuckles. ‘I had something stronger in mind.’
My smile becomes strained. Tom is an idiot. He doesn’t notice any of the tension between her and me. ‘Something stronger?’