by Diana Gardin
“Berkeley!” Mea is flagging me down from her table, waving her napkin like a white flag.
I roll my eyes and head that way. I grab her and Mikah’s glasses without asking them what they want, and hurry back to them with a Coke and a Sprite. Neither of them is holding menus, which would be unnecessary, since I already know what they want to eat. I throw them a quick smile and hold up a finger before scooting over to Dare’s table.
“Hi.” The cleverness of my greeting sends a jolt of embarrassment flaming straight to my cheeks.
“Hi, yourself,” he answers. “Berkeley, this is my friend, Drake. Drake, this is Berkeley.”
His friend is huge, and sexy, and all smiles. I shake his beefy hand and return his grin, then turn my attention back to Dare.
“Should I bring you boys a beer?”
He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up in a lopsided smile. God, that’s hot. His face is lacking nothing, in my opinion. His sort-of-long dark brown hair is just the right length to tug at if my fingers happen to find themselves running along the nape of his neck. It curls slightly at the ends, disappearing under his collar. His face is so ruggedly handsome, I finally understand what they mean in books when they say ruggedly handsome. There’s a thin coating of scruff along his strong, square jawline, and his skin is tan underneath. His eyes are a green so light I’d call it sea-foam, and clear as the Caribbean Sea. They’re set under heavy brows that move when he’s feeling something. Right now, they’re furrowed as he looks back at me, and I know he’s wondering what I’m thinking as I stare at him a beat too long.
I might be in trouble. Focusing on those obscenely gorgeous eyes is causing my skin to heat and my toes to curl in my boots.
I refuse to let my eyes travel to the rest of his seated body until I’m safely beside the kitchen door, and then I peek. I lean against the wall and leisurely take him in. Snug gray T-shirt with the word ARMY printed on the front. Tattoos peeking out from underneath the sleeves at both biceps. Another runs the length of his inner forearm, script that I’m aching to read.
I’ve never, ever dated a guy with tattoos. And this guy has three.
That I can see.
My assessment continues. Dare isn’t nearly as beefy as his friend Drake, but his size is formidable to a normal guy my age. He’s tall, at least six foot two if I’m guessing correctly from his seated position, and his muscles are…profound. They leave me breathless as I inspect them. He has sinewy cords rippling in his forearms as he studies his menu.
“Why don’t you just go take a bite?”
Lenny’s voice startles me, and I crash backward into the kitchen door. The noise alone is enough to have me hiding beneath the little window once I’m inside.
“Lenny!” I hiss.
“Sorry!” She’s laughing, her face reddening as her giggles erupt from her petite body. “I’ve never seen you stare so hard. Army’s a hottie. He a friend of yours?”
“God, I wish!” I moan as I prepare to walk back through the doors.
I head to the bar to grab Dare’s and Drake’s beers, and then march back to their table. By this time, Mea is watching me with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing my face and glancing at the table where Dare sits. I’m so busted.
I set down the Killian’s in front of Dare. He eyes it appreciatively, and then turned his gaze back to me as I set down Drake’s bottle of Bud.
“You remember all of your customer’s drink orders, Berkeley?”
Oh. When my name falls off of his lips like that, I have a hard time finding enough saliva to make my mouth function correctly. But I try, anyway.
“Not all of them.” Good girl! My answer is as cool as a fall evening. Somehow, I’m managing to keep up the appearance that this guy’s incredible looks and infallible charm haven’t affected me.
He nods, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “Busy night?”
I nod. “Want me to bring you the same thing you had last time?”
Drake nods. I smile at him, and then look at Dare. Dare studies me a moment before answering.
“I want the same thing you brought me last time, plus something extra.”
I wait. He doesn’t name the something extra.
With my heart beating just a little faster, I force my lips to turn upward as I nod and walk away.
When I get back to Mea and Mikah, I send her a pleading glance. She knows I’m silently asking her to wait until we’re alone to bombard me with questions, and she obliges.
“But, later?” One finely shaped eyebrow arches. “I’m all over this.”
“I know. I’m simultaneously dreading it and can’t wait to tell you.”
I spend the next hour serving the tables holding my friends and my newfound acquaintances, building up my courage. When Mea, her brother, and their friends exit the restaurant, leaving me a generous tip, she sends me a meaningful glance before vanishing out the front door.
I peek toward Dare and Drake, who have just requested their check. I suck in a breath, because Dare’s intense eyes are locked on mine. One corner of his mouth tugs upward in his smile, and the butterflies currently making a home in my gut take flight.
That’s what I needed. That tiny confirmation from him gives me the gumption to scribble my cell number down on the bottom of their check with a note.
See? I told you I have nothing against the army. I Dare you to use this.
I wear a special little smile of my own as I drop off their bill.
“Have a nice night, boys,” I advise them over my shoulder as I escape.
The next morning, all I can do is analyze my decision to give Dare my phone number. Had he really been flirting, or was it all in my mind? I know military men like I know the formula for scale when designing a room. Army may be a different breed from navy, but they’re all members of the same species.
A major element in any military guy’s life is his love of women. It’s like they all crave the nurturing and attention that only a woman can bring to their lives. A lot of them end up settling down pretty young and starting families to care for. But for many, the desire for freedom wins out, and they spend their free time with as many different women as they can handle.
Which of those men is Dare? I have a pretty good idea, because he doesn’t appear to be very settled down.
And what is he doing here? There isn’t an army base in Brunswick County. Maybe he’s just on leave, and visiting his friend?
I can handle a summer fling. After this summer ends, I have some major life decisions to make. The pressure from my parents to start a life with Grisham isn’t going anywhere, and now that I’m done with college it’s only going to intensify. I don’t feel any pushing from Grish, but I know where he stands. If I want him, he’ll be happy to want me back. He’s a great guy, he’d take good care of me. I just don’t know if I can ever learn to love him that way. No matter how much my parents want it.
I interned at an interior design firm in town last summer, and absolutely adored it. I loved how the owner used her creativity every day to make people feel good inside their own spaces. I loved meeting new people and clients, and being exposed to different environments. It was everything I’d ever wanted for myself. And I know that one day, if I want to, I can make that happen.
I so badly want to.
The internal conflict that comes with this decision is suffocating sometimes. I just want to live my life, without having to worry about crushing my parents’ hearts into dust.
I’m broken from my thoughts by a pillow being thrown over my face.
“Hey!”
“Get up, get up!” Mea is bouncing so merrily on my bed, my whole body is thrown up and down each time her ass hits the mattress.
“Get off of my bed!”
“No.” She pouts. “And I don’t like your tone.”
“My tone! It’s ass o’clock in the morning!” I can’t help my grumbly morning voice. Mornings have never, ever been my friend.
Mea, on the other hand, has been. We
met in high school, when I finally began to notice that not everyone’s parents planned their children’s lives out like a thoroughly detailed treasure map. Thinking back to when we first met in the hallway after school, I smile.
I’d been rushing toward my second activity meeting of the afternoon when my hugely heavy backpack slipped off my shoulder and spilled out all of its contents. I was crouching, trying to stuff everything in as quickly as possible when two tiny hands appeared beside mine, picking up my stuff.
“Need some help?” asked Mea’s chipper voice.
She was dressed in our school’s cheerleading uniform, with bands of black and gold swirling around her petite, lithe body. A huge ribbon held back her bouncing curls, and she looked…happy. Not frazzled, like me. Not like she had a million too many things on her plate, like me. Just happy.
“Thanks,” I’d said.
When we stood, she scrutinized me, and then asked where I was headed.
I told her that I was on my way to debate club, and had a mini-freakout when I glanced up at the clock on the wall.
“Oh, no,” she tsked. “If you’re reacting like that to being a few minutes late to debate club, you’ve got some problems you need to share. Come on.”
She firmly grabbed my elbow with the strength of a football player and towed me along toward the exit.
“I can’t miss it!” I exclaimed. “My parents will kill me.”
“Honey,” she said, slowing down and facing me solemnly. “Keep going at the pace you are, and I’ll be watching you die of a heart attack by the end of senior year. Blow off debate and come hang with me and my friends. We’re having a study date, but there will be actual fun there. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Smiling, I was filled with a warmth that I hadn’t experienced before. This girl, in just a few minutes, had managed to make me feel like she wanted me around. Not for what I could do for her or give her, but just because she liked me and wanted to help me.
“I’m Berkeley,” I’d said, sticking out my hand.
“Mea.” She grinned back.
And that was the beginning of a seriously beautiful friendship.
“No, it’s not, Berk. It’s almost lunchtime. Why are you so lazy?” Mea’s curls shake as she shoots me a stern look of disappointment.
Ugh. I really do hate mornings. And if I’m not out of bed yet, it’s morning. No matter what time the clock says.
“Fine.” I groan as I sit up and stretch my arms high above my head. “I’m up.”
“That’s my girl. Now, on to more important topics. If you don’t tell me right the hell now who that delicious specimen of a man was last night, I’m going to start screaming bloody murder until your momma comes to check on us.”
“Oh, no! Anything but that!” I playfully tickle her ribs until she crumbles into a heap of giggles at my feet.
“Give! I give!” she screams.
“Shush,” I whisper, because the last thing I want to do is face my mother this early in the morning. Lunchtime be damned.
“What’s his name? How’d you meet him? I thought you didn’t date military dudes?”
I decide to address her last question first. “I don’t. I mean, I’m not dating him. I only just gave him my number last night.”
Her squeal of delight is enough to tease a reluctant smile out of me. “His name is Dare.”
I go on to explain how Dare and Drake came into the restaurant that first night, and how I ran into him at the auto shop a few weeks later.
“And now I want to know all about that hunk of deliciousness that was sitting across from him. Drake, was it?”
I aim a knowing smile in her direction. “Ah. That’s what you really wanted, right? You don’t really care about my love life.”
“Because I know you well enough to know you don’t have one. Hey, we’ve been apart for a few years, Berk, but I know you’re not going to jump into anything with a guy who practically wears the words BAD IDEA across the front of his shirt. Am I right?”
I nod. “You’re probably right. But…I did give him my number, didn’t I? And I normally wouldn’t do that. If I wanted a military man, I’d just marry Grisham, like our parents want me to. I’d never just pass Grish over for a guy just like him.”
She reaches over and pries my eyes open wider, using her fingertips to hold open my lids. “Are these working right? Did you not see Dare? There’s nothing about him that’s like Grisham, not a damn thing. Dare…even his name is dark and dangerous. And I didn’t spot a piece of expensive jewelry on him anywhere. And he doesn’t seem like a BMW type of guy, either. Oh, and one more thing. There was no silver spoon hanging out of his mouth. He’s not navy royalty, that’s for sure.”
Everything Mea so eloquently stated is what was already rattling around inside my own head. Dare is clearly nothing like Grisham, or any other guy I’ve ever dated.
And maybe it’s that hint of danger I can see in him from a mile away, or his intense, brooding demeanor that attracts me to him. Or maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t look at me like I’m a princess sitting on her throne that he wants to put in a box and protect.
He looks at me like I’m a goddess perched high on an idol that he wants to worship.
And something buried very deeply inside of me, down where the most secret thoughts and feelings of my subconscious hide, wants to let him.
As soon as I allow that thought to enter my brain, my phone begins to vibrate harshly against the wood of my nightstand.
I pick it up with a growing sense of exuberance inside of me, and read it.
INCOMING CALL FROM UNKNOWN
It’s got to be Dare. Who else could it be? He’s calling me? Doesn’t he know the just-text-a-girl-you-barely-know rule? No one calls anymore! My eyes must be scarily wide, because Mea looks at me with panic.
“What?”
“It’s him…Dare’s calling me.”
“Well, answer it, girl! Jesus, you scared me!” She clutches at her chest like an old lady having a heart attack.
“Hello.” My voice is wobbly as I push the phone against my ear.
“Hey, Berkeley.” His voice is the opposite of wobbly. His voice is strong, sure, deep. All of a sudden, that voice is everything. The only thing keeping me upright on my bed.
“Dare…I’m surprised you’re calling me.”
“Why?”
Well, that’s direct.
“Because? I don’t know…”
“Weren’t you giving me an explicit green light last night to go ahead and call? I mean, you dared me. I don’t take that lightly.”
Now his tone is jovial, light and flirty. It sends the annoying crop of winged insects inside my belly into a frenzy.
“No? Well, then if I get results this quickly I’ll dare you more often.”
Bold, Berkeley. Very bold.
“That could be dangerous for you,” he warns.
“I think I need a little danger in my life.”
“I’m going to be honest here, Berkeley.” My name, now my favorite word when he uses it, rolls over me like a tidal wave. “I want to see you again. Are you working tonight?”
I nod mutely, and then remember he can’t see me. I swear, I wasn’t such an idiot before I met this guy. Mea dissolves into another fit of giggles on the bed, and I kick her.
“Oh, no. Silence? That’s a no…right? You’re going to kill my ego here, Berkeley.”
A delicious shiver is crawling its way up my spine at the same time a small trickle of sweat slips down between my boobs. “No! I mean, yes. I am working tonight.”
“After?”
I shake my head and find my confidence. I actually do have a large stock of it somewhere. “Yes, after. Would you like to come to See Food around ten and wait for me to finish up?”
“No.”
My heart sinks somewhere near my feet.
“I would love to.” I can hear his crooked little smile lifting his voice. “I’ll see you at ten.”
He clicks off the line, and my heart is now somewhere so high I’m afraid I won’t be able to reach it to put it back inside my chest.
“Well.” As I toss my phone down on the pillow beside me, my smile spreads wide. “Shit just got real. I have a date with Dare tonight.”
5
Dare
Drake’s after-work routine is very simple: He takes a twenty-minute shower, grabs a frozen dinner to microwave, sits on the couch in a pair of sweats, and drinks a bottle of Bud.
As he enters the final stage of this custom, I’m buttoning my shirt. Drake pauses, beer in hand, on his way to the couch. His mouth falls open as he takes in my appearance.
“Why are you wearing a shirt that buttons?”
I glance down at the soft blue-collared shirt with white checks, the snap buttons down the front of it lending it a retro vibe, and then back at him. I could tell him, but I’m not ready to announce to the world that I’m trying to date a girl I’m not even in the same realm of living with, much less the same league.
“My mom sent it to me.”
Drake’s eyes narrow. He looks like a big, beefy, muscle head, but he’s no fool, and I know it. “Which foster mom have you kept in touch with to the extent that she’d send you a shirt for no good reason?”
Damn. I had blurted out the first thing that came to me, forgetting that Drake knows my history.
“Okay. That was a lie, Drake.”
“No fucking kidding?” The sarcasm drips from each word like nectar.
“I’m going to see Berkeley. It’s not a big deal, just meeting up with her after she gets off work.”
Drake’s face settles into its normal state of being, grinning at me with an extra gleam in his eyes. “Yeah? Good luck with that, man.”