by Goode, Ella
“My name,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair. I’m almost positive the chair lets out a groan. I don’t know if I should laugh about his name or the chair, so I just laugh. That name is ridiculous, boarding on excessive. It’s oddly fitting.
“I would have gone with Bear.” I shrug.
“Anything other than Theodore Tanksley works for me.”
“Is this one of those things you never tell people? Like other people are with their middle names?” I try to tease him.
“No one calls me that. They know better.”
“Fine, I won’t call you Theodore Tanksley.” I sing-song his name. It rolls off the tongue way easier than you’d think.
“I changed my mind. You can call me that,” he tosses back at me. His face is serious. It almost reminds me of the look Liv’s men get when they fold and give her something she’s asked for. Everyone knows they’d give that girl anything if they thought it would make her happy.
My heart flutters, and I swiftly bring my hand to my chest, surprised by the feelings. Tank’s eyes follow my hand. The waiter drops our food down before he can say something, and I immediately start shoveling food into my mouth. At least I can control that at the moment.
We fall into small talk as we both clear our plates. “I’m impressed,” he tells me as he eyes my now empty one.
“Don’t be. I didn't order an appetizer.” I’m only half joking. I earn another one of those laughs that give me all the weird, new feelings.
Tank pulls out his wallet and grabs a credit card from it. “Check,” he tells Steve, whose name I’ve now learned during our meal.
“Wait.” I almost pop up from my seat as Steve takes off with Tank’s credit card.
“I got it,” he tries to reassure me.
“But we didn't order dessert yet.” I can’t help the horror that enters my voice. This time Tank throws his head back and laughs.
That was way better than any dessert I’ve ever had.
3
Tank
“You really didn’t have to buy the whole pie,” Erika says quietly as we walk toward her dorm.
The white takeout bag swings by my side. “It’s late and they would’ve thrown it out.”
“Okay.”
Her simple acceptance makes me smile. Again. I lift the heel of my hand and press it under my cheekbone. My face feels sore. I’m not used to smiling—or laughing, for that matter. Not much in my life to be giggly about.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
My hand drops away and I peer down at Erika, who doesn’t come up much higher than my pecs. Am I hurt? Not right now, but I suspect that she could turn me into dust with a wave of her delicate pinky finger. “Nah.” I can’t really explain that my cheeks hurt because she made me happy. Even with my limited experience with women, I can figure that out. We just met. Although…we ate something. Does that qualify as a date? If dinner was a date, should I be holding her hand? Fuck. I scrub my hand through my buzz cut. I should’ve paid more attention in high school to whatever the fuck my classmates did with the opposite sex instead of looking for fight clubs.
I sneak a glance toward Erika again. Her beautiful face is serene, as if she’s at peace with the world, which is great. Love that for her, but what the fuck does it mean as it relates to the dinner? Is she happy? If we were on a date, wouldn’t she be nervous like me? My stomach’s in so much turmoil I might barf up my food and I never do that. Barf, I mean.
She’s not frowning, though, and I bought her pie. Maybe the pie thing would make up for not knowing if we’re on a date. Oh, hell, I hate this. I’m just going to ask her.
“So is this a date?”
“A what?” She abruptly stops and stares at me.
“Nothing. Nothing.” I wave my hands, the pie bag spinning around my fingers. “I said do you need a plate?”
She squints. “For the pie?”
I nod vigorously. “Yeah, the pie. Do you need a plate? We could stop somewhere and pick some up. Like a store. Or my condo. I have plates in my condo.”
Jesus, fuck, I sound like a goddamned idiot. I slam my lips shut and commence walking again. One thing I learned in boxing is that everyone has a strength. Some people have quick feet. Some people are good punchers. You gotta play to that strength in order to win. The thing is, though, I’m a sad sack of shit when it comes to dating. I’ve never really dated my entire life. I haven’t wanted to. Women that are attracted to me are a distraction, a nuisance. They’re always up in my business, wanting sex, wanting money, wanting attention. I don’t have time for that. And now, fuck, it’s not like I regret not dating, but if I had dated a little bit, maybe I would know what to do here. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like I have two left feet and bear paws instead of hands.
“I can eat the pie from the box. I don’t mind.” She takes the pie bag from me and smiles.
I melt into a puddle of goo at her feet.
“This is my dorm.” She waves a hand behind her.
“So close.” I blow out a frustrated breath.
She cocks her head. “What was that?”
“I said my voice is hoarse.” I slap my neck. “I was throat punched the other day and the cold air is making it ache.”
“Oh my goodness. That’s awful.” Her hand reaches up and brushes across my skin.
My cock turns rock hard in an instant and unintelligible sounds climb up my throat.
“Wow. You sound terrible. Maybe you should come inside and I can make you some honey water. I know singers sometimes drink that before concerts.”
I’m so stunned I can’t form words. She wants me to come up to her dorm room and make me something to drink? My mind shuts down in excitement and all I can do is nod eagerly. I hold the door open while she walks into the dorm complex. The lights are on in the entryway and there’s a sleepy-eyed student sitting at a desk.
“No guys after ten,” she snaps.
“Oh, I didn’t know.” Erika shrinks against me.
My arm comes up automatically, like it has a mind of its own, and curves around her shoulder. I straighten to my full height and face the girl at the desk. “You didn’t have to shout at her. She didn’t know.”
The girl’s head comes up, but whatever she is about to say melts on her tongue. Her jaw drops and her eyes grow big. I sigh inside. Not again. I know this look. I hate it. It’s the one that’s always followed by “What’s your number?” and “You look like a whole daddy,” whatever the hell that means.
“Come on, Erika. I live in the condo complex across the street. You can make me something to drink there.”
“No. Please. You can stay. Really.” The girl hops off her stool. “You need something to drink. I have a whole mini-fridge—”
But I have Erika out the door before the clerk finishes her sentence.
“I think that girl wanted to give you her number,” Erika says as I’m hustling her down the sidewalk.
“Nah. She probably has some pyramid scheme quota she has to fill and collects numbers for that.”
“She was offering her whole mini-fridge to you. For a college student, that’s like handing over your bank account.”
“I’m not interested”—I clear my throat—“in her. I’m not interested in her. I have my own refrigerator. And it’s full-sized. Packed full, too.”
Erika’s little mouth quirks up on the sides. “Full-sized? Packed full?” she repeats. Her lips quiver as she tries to suppress her laughter.
A reluctant grin spreads across my face as the implication of my words set in. It’s her cheeky smile that shuts down my brain again so that I don’t have the sense to stop the next question. Instead, blinded by her happiness, my mouth opens and I blurt out, “Yeah, are you interested?”
4
Erika
I stroll next to Tank, letting my arm brush against his, wishing it was wrapped around me again. I still can’t believe I agreed to go back to his place. I reach up and pull my hair from its messy bun, letting it fall all around me
. I bite my lip to keep from smiling when I hear Tank suck in a deep breath. That makes me feel even sexier. I’ve never used the word “sexy” to describe myself before today. Tank just made me realize I had it in me.
Cute? Sure. Maybe even pretty. I always felt my small size made me more boyish. The boys usually look past me to the girls who look just like the one that Tank dismissed. Though Tank is no boy in any shape or form. He’s all man from what I’ve seen of him.
I shouldn't have enjoyed the brushoff he gave the other girl, but I did. I more than enjoyed it. I saw the change in his eyes when they moved from her to me, the softness that came to them when he gazed at me. He wanted me. Just thinking those words has my heart beating faster.
He hadn’t wanted the night to end either. I’m actually thankful for the girl stopping us. Instead of us going back to my small dorm room that Liv and I share, we’re going to his place. It’s highly likely that Liv will be home tonight, so I’m thankful that we have the option of his place. I just want to get to know him a little bit better without anyone else around.
“Your hair,” he finally says. I look over when I feel him touch it, sliding a strand between his fingers. “It’s beautiful.”
His voice comes out gruffer than before. Maybe his throat is getting worse. I stop walking. He does, too, but his eyes stay locked on the thick chunk of hair he has in his massive hand. He continues to rub it between two fingers, completely fascinated with it. I make a mental note to keep it down around him.
“Does your throat hurt more?” I ask, making his gaze shift back to me.
“Sure.” He nods, but he says it in such a way that I’m not sure if it really does or not.
“It’s real,” I say with a laugh when he still doesn't let the strand go. “I’ll let you braid it after we get you some honey. You can do it while I eat my pie,” I tease.
He lets my hair go. A small look of panic hits his face. “I don’t know how to braid hair. I bet I can find a YouTube post that will show me.” He goes to pull out his phone, and I laugh.
“I was joking,” I say through laughter. “I mean, if you want to braid it, sure, have at it, but I know how to braid my own hair.” I grab my hair, braiding it in seconds. He watches closely as I tie off the end.
He reaches for the braid and pulls the tie free. My hair falls loose once again and he tucks the tie into his pocket. I go to protest that I need that hair tie, but he takes my hand in his and we start walking again. His hand doesn’t just take mine, it engulfs it. It’s warm and rough. My mind drifts to what it would feel like on other parts of my skin.
I lick my suddenly dry lips, not noticing at first where we are until we are stepping onto the elevator. I know this building. It’s where all of the kids with money live. And I know some professors have places here, too.
“You live here?” I ask. God, I really don’t know anything about Tank. Except his name. Which maybe is a huge, albeit seemingly insignificant victory when it comes to him.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“And you go to classes here?” I’d just assumed.
“Yeah, my last year.” How have I missed him roaming campus? I’m only eighteen, but this is my junior year since I got accepted to college early. When I was told that I would get to live on campus, that sealed the deal for me. I’d been counting down the days to get out of my parents’ house. I worked hard on my schooling to make sure I would be accepted early. My parents had been excited to brag about me to their friends. I’d been excited to get away from them. Both of us won with my early acceptance. My parents only care about three things: appearances, education, and let’s not forget social status.
I was told I would stay in the freshmen dorm until I was at least nineteen. Liv was my first normal roommate, though having two boyfriends might not make her normal, but she’s the coolest and sweetest one I’ve had to date. I hope I can hang on to her next year, but I’m guessing the Audley twins won’t let that happen. They didn’t look too happy about leaving her that first day. The second they can get her out of there, they will.
“How have I never seen you around?” My eyes roam over his big size.
“I haven't seen you either.”
“I’m tiny. I’m easy to miss.”
“Trust me.” His eyes roam over me now. “You’re not easy to miss, Treasure.” My heart races at that. Wait, did he call me “Treasure”? The elevator dings and he guides me off before I can ask. He heads straight for one of two doors on the floor.
He pulls his keys out, unlocks the door and leads me into his condo. “It’s not much. I use it to eat and sleep.”
The place is bare. The condo itself is nice, but there is nothing in it. It almost looks unlived in. I can tell he’s seeing his place through my eyes at the moment and it’s making him feel uneasy. The firm grip he has on my soft hand tightens a little.
“I thought men were messy?” I rush to say. The need to make him feel comfortable is strong. He doesn't look like someone who’s used to being uncomfortable. No, it’s more like he doesn't give a fuck what someone else thinks, but he seems different with me. I can see he wants to impress me. Maybe that’s why I have this need to make him feel at ease. Normally I’d keep quiet. It works well for me. Staying out of the way is what I do best. My hope is always that people will do the same for me. I don’t have that feeling with Tank. I want to be all up in his way, even if he could crush me in more ways than one.
“It’s only me and my cat. I clean up after myself.”
“Buys me a whole pie, owns a cat, and is clean. If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re trying to get laid.” It isn’t until the words are out of my mouth that I realize what I’m saying. I can’t believe I actually said those words. My cheeks flush immediately with embarrassment.
“Fuck,” Tank mutters. “I mean fork,” he rushes to amend. This time it’s him trying to make me feel comfortable. I’m sure my face is still cherry red. Maybe now it’s only a warm pink if I’m lucky. “I’ll get us some forks and a plate.” He rushes over to the kitchen area of the open plan room, letting my hand go in the process. “My cat found me. She was lurking around the gym all the time, looking hungry. I fed her some milk and now I have a cat. She usually hides, though, so it feels like I’m alone most of the time. Forks.” He lifts two up. Watching him try to make me more comfortable puts me at ease. I still can’t believe I said that.
“I only need one.” I walk over toward the kitchen area and pull out one of the bar stools. “I’m not sharing my pie.” I set the bag with the pie in it on the counter top.
“You’re going to eat the whole pie?” His lips quirk, giving me a half smile.
“You only get honey, remember?” I remind him why we came here. Though I’m pretty sure we both didn’t want to come here because of honey.
“I think you’re trying to get out of sharing your pie.”
“I’m not great at sharing when it comes to food,” I admit. Heck, I don’t want to share his attention either. It’s why I didn’t want to go up to my dorm room and so quickly agreed to go to his. I’m enjoying being alone with him. That’s a thought I’ve never had about a person in my whole life. It’s both scary and exciting.
5
Tank
I lift the foil pie tin out of the bag and place two forks beside it. Erika’s seated, her hands threaded together, wearing a smile that would make angels melt. Tongue-tied, I wordlessly slide the pie and one of the utensils in front of her. She’s tiny when she’s standing next to me and even smaller sitting down. Every protective instinct I have and about a hundred more that I didn’t realize existed rise up in my throat. There will never be a time anyone brings harm to even a hair on her head.
“What’s your schedule?” I ask.
She blinks twice, in the middle of shoveling a huge piece in her mouth. Damn. I wish I had ice cream. She licked that up like a cat at the restaurant. I almost came in my pants watching her. Her pink tongue sneaking out and swiping across her spoon
will be all the material I need to whack off tonight.
“My schedule?” she finally answers after swallowing.
“Yeah.” She can’t be out there walking around this earth by herself. She’s too precious for that. A treasure like her needs constant protection. “Your student schedule. Like when do you get up in the morning”—and what do you look like? Is your hair mussed? Are your cheeks flushed? Do you smell like a sweet, warm body or something spicier?—“when do you leave your condo? Stuff like that?”
“Um, I usually get up early because I stretch and do some yoga. My classes start around ten, but we’re not in session yet. Monday’s the first day.”
Monday is basically tomorrow since it’s after midnight.
“Okay. I usually work out in the afternoon, but I’ll switch up my schedule. What do you want for breakfast?” I’m not a great cook. Hell, I’m not even a mediocre one, but I can buy a meal or ten. She tilts her head in confusion but answers, “Oatmeal.” Then she holds up her hand. “Wait. Why are you asking all these questions? Is Livvie paying for your bodyguard services? Because I don’t need them. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
I swipe the fork from the plate and eat a piece of the pie. “Who’s Livvie?”
Erika takes the fork back immediately, scowls and says, “My roommate. The one who asked you to come and walk me home from the frat party.”
“I don’t know any Livvie. I did a favor for Zeke Audley because I owed him one.”
“Same thing.” She sets her fork down and gets to her feet. “Anyway, like I said, I don’t need protection. Thanks for everything.”
I can tell by her tight, fake smile that I’ve done something wrong, but fuck if I know what it is. What I do know is that she’s leaving, which is bad. Very, very bad. I glance at the pie which she was so happy about just five minutes ago. I scramble for the plastic bag. “What about your pie? Don’t you want to take it with you?”