by D. C. Ruins
She was explaining all of this rapidly to Heath as she hopped out of bed to struggle into her jeans and yank on her sweater which she'd evidently stripped off at some point during the night. She swept her hair back into its bun and hurried into his bathroom, still talking, pausing only to splash water on her face and rinse her mouth with his mouthwash. He was listening to her rant quietly as he picked his clothes up from the floor and dressed, then moved into the bathroom behind her. He smiled at her wide-eyed expression.
"Relax," he said to her reflection. "I'll drive you there. Okay? Give me a minute."
Drew stepped out of the bathroom so he could use it and brush his teeth and paced frantically. She pulled her phone from her bag and groaned aloud when she saw thirteen missed calls from the café and several texts from Bunz asking for her whereabouts. When Heath emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later she held up her phone.
"Dead," she repeated. "I'm so dead."
"So you're a little late," he said, picking up his gym bag. "They'll understand. C'mon."
They hurried out of his apartment and into his car, Drew still chattering away as she stared out the window.
"My parents don't play that late shit," she said. "Especially not today. Were you listening? This is like, the biggest day of the month."
"I was listening," Heath replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice. Drew whirled to face him and saw him quickly fold his lips inward to hide his smile.
"It's not funny!" she exclaimed as he sped along. "They are going to be—they are—so pissed right now."
To his credit, Heath was a good driver and got to Bloomfield in record time. Suddenly, the full horror of her situation hit her like a brick and she couldn't believe she'd overlooked it.
"You have to drop me off at the corner!" she gasped. "They can't see you dropping me off. Oh, my God. My father will kill you. And I'm in the same clothes as I was yesterday? Oh, my God. You have to drop me off a block away."
"Drew," Heath said disapprovingly. "I'm not gonna hide the fact that I dropped you off. Come on, now. We're all adults."
"My father doesn't give a shit that the law 'technically' recognizes me as an adult," she said mournfully.
Heath shot her a look. "You're bein' dramatic." He parked the car right in front of the café. "Besides, he and I need to have a talk anyway. Come on. Get out."
The café, not open until eight, was still locked although the lights were on. She knocked hesitantly and Bunz appeared instantly. Drew had sent her a text letting her know she was on her way. Bunz's expression held a mixture of annoyance and entertainment as she noted in one sweeping glance that Drew and Heath were together at this early hour and that Drew was wearing her clothes from the day before.
"How bad?" Drew asked breathlessly when Bunz opened the door.
"Bad," Bunz replied. She nodded her head at Heath. "So bad, I'm going to leave and get some tea."
"Uh…" Drew gestured to the barista counter where containers of tea were lined up neatly in a row.
"Key word being leave," Bunz said, slipping into her jacket. She looked between the two of them and shook her head sadly. "It was nice knowing you, Heath. May the force be with you guys." She slipped out and let the door shut behind her.
"Drusilla, get your ass back here!" her father's voice called from the back. "Let's get to work!"
She trudged back toward the kitchen, Heath following close behind her. She peered around the corner and saw both of her parents holding clipboards peering at shelves. On the stainless steel island were boxes and bottles and packages.
"You mind tellin' me why the hell you're almost ninety minutes late?" her father asked absently. He glanced over at her and did a double-take when he saw Heath standing next to her.
"Good morning, sir," Heath said calmly. "Mom'am."
"Good morning, Heath," Mrs. Carnevale replied automatically, but there was surprise and curiosity in her voice. "What, uh –" Her question hesitated on her lips.
"I drove Drew to work this morning, ma'am," Heath replied.
"You dropped my daughter off," Mr. Carnevale said, and it wasn't a question.
"Yes, sir."
"You dropped my daughter off when she lives three blocks from here," Mr. Carnevale added.
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Carnevale's eyes shifted to Drew, and he noted that she was in the same clothes he'd seen her in yesterday. He lifted his eyebrows. Drew sighed.
"What, John?" she asked, exasperated. "I went to Heath's last night. We watched a movie, and I fell asleep."
"Then, that would be the time for you to wake her up and take her home," Mr. Carnevale said to Heath, blinking.
"I would have, sir," Heath replied, "except I fell asleep myself. I take responsibility for Drew not arriving on time this morning."
Drew looked up at him and opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a discreet touch to her back.
Mr. Carnevale was openly sizing him up. "And you better never let that happen again," he said, and it was a veiled threat. To his credit, Heath looked completely unfazed as he nodded.
"Yes, sir," he replied.
Mr. Carnevale shifted his eyes back to Drew, who felt her insides shudder. "All right, then," he said, and Drew braced herself for his next point of attack. "What's this I hear about you wantin' to take my daughter out of town?"
Drew noticed that Heath was standing with almost military-like rigidity, the force of habit from years in the Corps still strong upon him. "Yes, sir. I intended to speak to you about that today. I did ask Drew if she would be interested in coming to Buffalo for the tournament with me. I'd like to ask your permission for her attendance, as well, provided she wants to join me."
"Separate rooms?" Mr. Carnevale demanded.
"Yes, sir."
"Dad," Drew said pointedly. She hated being discussed like she was neither present nor an adult; her father had always been like this, even with her older sisters, her entire life, but since the attack it had become so much worse.
"I'm just tryin' to make sure you're gonna be okay, sweetie," her father said. He lifted a finger. "My daughter better be safe wit' you."
"Yes, sir," Heath replied. "She is and she will be. Absolutely."
"All those violent guys, you can't keep an eye on her the whole time if you're fightin'," Mr. Carnevale went on. "I don't like the idea of her bein' alone. I know how these guys can be, especially with a pretty girl standin' around."
"She won't be alone, sir," Heath said. "My family is coming with me as well. My older brother and my father will be present. Drew will be in good hands while I'm in the ring."
"She better be," Mr. Carnevale said. "I told you before, I got a rifle and a shovel and a whole lot of connections."
Heath's mouth twitched and Drew knew he wanted to laugh. "Yes, sir. Roger that, sir."
Mr. Carnevale nodded, then stepped forward and extended his hand. Heath immediately grasped it, and they shook. Drew felt both touched and embarrassed; she loved seeing her father and Heath getting along but hated that she felt like such a helpless infant at times. She knew that was just how her father was, and how he'd always be, but it never ceased to annoy her.
"Okay," Drew said. "Heath has to be going now!" She looked up at him. "Right? You have to get to the gym. Or someplace that's not here."
He smiled down at her. "I do need to be going. Sir, ma'am," he turned back to her parents and shook hands with them both again. Drew had to roll her eyes when she saw her mother's eyes go wide and her hands flutter a little when Heath turned to her. "It was a pleasure as always."
"Goodbye, Heath," her mother said with a big smile. Her father merely nodded at him. Drew grabbed his arm and hustled him out of the kitchen toward the door.
"See? That wasn't so bad," Heath told her. "And your dad is fine with you coming with me. Now it's just up to you."
"Right," Drew said. "I guess that was about as painless as it's going to be."
"Now you just have to deal with how pissed he is
that you were late," Heath added. He smiled innocently.
"You made me late!" she hissed, shoving his arm a little. "You were supposed to wake up and take me home!"
His smile turned mischievous as he opened the door. He glanced over her shoulder then leaned down, tilting his head until his lips were just a breath away. "You just seemed to sleeping so peacefully, all of a sudden," he murmured teasingly. "No clue why, though. I didn't want to wake you up."
"You know why," she murmured back, her annoyance forgotten as memories flooded her mind and her face heated up.
He laughed and leaned in, kissing her chastely. "What are you up to the rest of the day, after you leave here?"
"Working on my dance," she said.
"Thought you said the studio was being remodeled?"
"It is," she replied. "I'll just work on it at home. I don't prefer that, but, I really need to nail this thing. You?"
"Sparring and film," he replied. Drew realized that between both their endeavors, they likely wouldn't be seeing each other that evening.
"Drew!" her father's voice shouted. "Let's go."
She sighed and made a face, then smiled. "Duty calls," she said lightly. "Will you text or call me later?"
In reply, Heath leaned forward again and brushed her lips with his. It was reminiscent of their first kiss; sweet, almost loving, but there was just the slightest edge of the lightning hot passion that they'd managed to develop between them. She wanted to deepen the kiss but he suddenly pulled away.
"Have a good one, ma'am," he called, looking over her shoulder. He squeezed Drew's hand. "Talk to you later," he added, then with another wave to Drew's mother, he left, jogging toward his car. Drew sighed and turned around, seeing her mother standing against the counter with her arms folded. She was smiling widely.
"Mom," Drew said, but she couldn't stop smiling herself. "Please."
"I like that boy," her mother said. "So sweet. Such a gentleman. So good-looking, too."
"He is," Drew said simply. "All of those thing."
"Your father likes him, too," Mrs. Carnevale added as they walked back into the kitchen. "Don't let him fool you."
"I do like him," Mr. Carnevale insisted. "But if he fucks up, he's still a dead man. Capisci?"
***
Later that evening Drew lay in the middle of her living room floor. She held scraps of black material in her hands and a pair of scissors. She had just finished rehearsing for a couple hours after moving all of her furniture out of the way, and had just spent a half an hour stretching out her muscles and toweling off the layer of sweat she'd found herself drenched in. She was extremely pleased with the outcome of her dance, and felt irritation that she wasn't able to use the studio at the Y that evening to get the full, completed and fine-tuned effect.
Her costume was going to be utterly simple, requiring only a little creativity and few choice snips of the scissors. She turned on some music, though she kept the volume moderately low as her crabby neighbors down the hall tended to get annoyed when she played anything even remotely loud. She folded in her legs and hunched over her project, her head bobbing to the beat of the hip hop song flowing from her speakers.
Within a half an hour, she'd made all of the cuts to her top that she wanted and was threading a needle when her phone went off behind her. She slid backward on the carpet to grab it, smiling when she saw who the message was from.
"Hope all is well and you're still in one piece…?"
"For the time being. It was touch and go there for a while. What are you up to?"
"Taking a little break from sparring with the guys. Connor came down to the gym and we've been going at it. He demanded a rematch from last time. He's a sore loser."
"I'll be sure to bring that up tomorrow evening. I sense that could be a very entertaining topic of conversation."
"I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind. Speaking of, I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Wish it could have been tonight."
"Me too, but…duty calls for both of us. You miss me though. I understand."
"I don't really, not that much. You miss me."
"Not nearly as much as you might expect, homie."
"It's all right. Saving face, I get it. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm NOT thinking of you, and I DON'T miss you, and I CAN wait to see you until tomorrow."
"Back at you. What time should I be ready?"
"I'll be there at 3. Cool?"
"I'll be ready…have a good night, you."
"You too."
Drew set her phone down and rolled over on her back, looking up at the ceiling and sighing. Rocky sauntered over, having spent most of the evening perched on the edge of the sofa to stay out of Drew's way. Now, he crept cautiously onto her chest, his small paws digging into her abdomen as he settled himself comfortably on her stomach and peered into her face. She smiled and scratched his head as he purred.
"Don't miss him," she mumbled to her cat. "Not at all." She grinned a little at her own silliness as a feeling of anticipation and excitement at seeing him again the following day filled her. And it was…nice to feel that way about someone again.
***
The next day, Drew stood in front of her closet, naked except for her underwear, as she tried to find something appropriate to wear. She didn't want to be too dressed up; it was a barbecue after all, and she didn't want to seem high-maintenance. On the other hand, she didn't know how his family would respond to her penchant for vegan leather, leopard print and lace, so she didn't want to be too funky, either.
She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was already two-thirty, and Heath seemed to be extremely punctual with a tendency to be early, so she knew she'd better hustle. Her hair and makeup were in place, but she'd already spent thirty minutes standing in front of her collection of clothes. Finally, she decided on cream colored linen shorts, a pale pink tank top with a ruffle down the front, and a form fitting hip length navy blue blazer. She added a pair of flat, camel-colored sandals with gold hardware and accessorized herself with a little gold jewelry. She checked herself out and was satisfied enough with what she'd chosen for the first genuinely warm day of the season.
A knock at the door signaled that it was time to go, so she hurried out of her bedroom and grabbed her bag. She peeked through the peephole and smiled, before quickly undoing the locks on the door and pulling it open. She grinned widely at Heath, surprising even herself with the surge of happiness she felt at the sight of him. She noticed he'd gotten his hair cut, and she liked it. She told him so.
"Thanks," he replied. He reached out for her and pulled her against him. She loved the fact that he was so affectionate toward her; it made her feel extremely secure and content. "You look nice."
"Thanks," she echoed, somewhat self-consciously. She eyed his dress of jeans, fresh white sneakers and a casual gray T-shirt. "This isn't too much, right?"
"No," he answered simply. "You look great." He took her hand and pulled her out the door, and she turned to quickly lock up behind her before following him downstairs, content to be with him again. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks.
"Oh, wait," she replied, turning and rushing for the door. Heath made a small noise of impatience but she waved him off. "Just one second." She hurried inside and grabbed an item off her counter, then hustled back out into the hallway, repeating the process of locking her door.
Heath eyed the bottle in her hand doubtfully. "Um. That was really nice of you to bring something, but…we can't take that over. Since John—well, he's in recovery, and –"
At first Drew was utterly confused as to what Heath was getting at; when it dawned on her, she shook her head quickly and held up the bottle.
"No, no, it's sparkling juice," she said, pointing to the label. "See?"
Heath's eyes shifted to the label and his face relaxed. He turned his trademark half-smile on her. "Oh. My fault. That's really thoughtful of you." He leaned over and pecked her forehead before taking her hand and leading her
down the hall again and outside.
The day was cheerfully bright and Drew tilted her face toward the sun, letting her eyes shut a little. It had been consistently chilly and rainy but today was sunny and warm; it was a fluke, as more cool and wet weather was headed their way. For today, she would enjoy it.
"Perfect day for this," she commented, sliding into his car. He shut her door and walked around the vehicle to his own side.
"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I suppose so."
Drew didn't miss his less than enthusiastic tone. "What's the matter?" she asked, shifting her body toward his and curling her legs underneath her. "You sound so…melancholy."
He shrugged. "Things can be a little awkward from time to time," he replied. "It's still weird to be together as a family. You know. Parents, kids. The grouchy uncle and the grandfather who tries to overcompensate for missed time."
Drew smiled understandingly. "Listen," she said. "No one's family is perfect. Look at mine—we're crazy. But at the end of the day, we love each other." She shrugged. "That's really all that matters. Same for your family. You spent time with Connor last night, you have a relationship with your nieces. Things might be a little strained still with your father, but you have to know he loves you."
Heath shrugged again. "I'm sure you're right," was all he said, and Drew left it alone. She had come to realize that he wasn't one to be pushed, but she wanted to revisit the topic later. She reached over to take his hand, and they drove the rest of the way like that. She made small talk, because she was good at that, and Heath listened to her quietly, replying when it was appropriate. When he arrived at his brother's home, he seemed to tense up even more, so Drew gave his hand a squeeze to get his attention. When he looked over at her, she leaned forward and kissed him sweetly on the lips and pulled back and smiled.