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And then he rested his head back on the creeper, throwing his forearm over his eyes.
He wasn’t going to go, of course. That would be a horrible idea.
But God, it was so fucking tempting.
She had been so forgiving of the rude way he’d gotten off the phone the last time they had spoken. The second he’d hung up on her that night, he felt like kicking himself. It was such a stupid move; he should have just made something up, some insignificant answer to her question, and it would have been fine. But she had caught him off guard, and instead he panicked and acted like a complete dick.
Again.
And yet the next morning, she sent him a text. Five simple words, but it made his chest feel like hundreds of little bubbles were popping inside.
Have a good day today.
He spent the rest of the day thinking about her, and that night he’d broken his rule and initiated contact with her, sending her a quick text.
Hope you successfully fended off the zombies today. Good night.
She had responded with an LOL and a smiley face, and Da
The following day, just before lunch, he’d gotten another text from her.
Hope your day is going well. No cursing at cars today. SWEAR JAR!
He had laughed out lout at that, drawing confused looks from the customers sitting in the waiting area. And that night he’d ignored his self-imposed rule again, sending her a message that wished her a good night and reminded her to turn on her night-light.
They’d been going back and forth like that for the past four days, and he’d managed to convince himself that it was acceptable because it was only texting. It wasn’t like they were talking on the phone, or meeting up, or hooking up.
He was still completely fine.
Da
And sometimes, for a split second, it made him think that maybe she might forgive him his biggest one; that there was a chance she wouldn’t run from him if she knew the truth.
But that line of thinking was idiotic, not to mention dangerous. He shouldn’t be entertaining that remote possibility. He shouldn’t even be focusing on the things he liked about her; he wasn’t doing himself any favors in that regard.
And he absolutely, one hundred percent, should not be looking for excuses to see her again.
Yet even as that thought crossed his mind, he was ru
As if that made him any less culpable.
No. Fuck it. You’re not going.
“What’s going on over there, deep thinker?”
Da
“What? Nothing,” he said as he sat up and ran his hand through his hair.
“Not nothing,” Jake said around a mouthful of chips. “Who was that text from?”
Da
“Was it a chick?” he asked, completely unfazed.
“Go change the spark plugs on the Pontiac out back.”
“Did it already,” he said, shoving another handful of chips in his mouth. “So what’d this girl say to make you so goddamn pissy?”
Da
“Did she say your dick was small?”
He laughed before he could stop himself. “You wish, asshole.”
“Well, then what the hell did she say?” he asked, balling up the empty bag and making a jump shot for the trash can across the garage, missing by several feet.
“Nothing. She asked me to meet her at The Rabbit Hole,” he said, grabbing the bottle of transmission fluid and pouring it through the opening of the fu
“Nice,” Jake said with a nod, handing Da
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Da
“No, I don’t,” Jake said deliberately. “You already know what my opinion of the whole thing is.”
Da
“I told you, you should be having as much fun as you can right now. Do whatever you gotta do. Go fuck that girl six ways from Sunday.”
Da
Jake’s face dropped. “Dude, fuck you, that’s not even fu
“Go clean that up,” he said, motioning to the crumpled bag of chips on the floor, “and then change the brake pads on the blue Mustang.”
“On it,” Jake said with a salute before he crossed to the other side of the garage, and Da
It wasn’t the first time Jake had given him that piece of advice, but in this case, there was one glaring problem.
He didn’t want to fuck her six ways from Sunday.
Well, he did, but that wasn’t all he wanted. Because the day they had lunch together, he didn’t want the meal to end, and that night on the phone, he could have talked to her for hours.
With her it would be more than just a fling, more than some hookup he used to entertain himself while he still could.
“Yo,” Tommy said, coming in from the reception area. “Jake said we’re hittin’ up The Rabbit Hole tonight?”
Da
“Did he now?” Fucking douche.
“I just texted Damon. He’s on tonight, so we should definitely go.”
Da
“Goddamn, this place is ripe tonight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer as he sca
The Rabbit Hole was part club, part bar; on the lower level, there was a large dance floor, with the main bar taking up the entire wall on the right. Surrounding the dance floor on all other sides were a few small tables, and above that—on the second level—were the roped-off VIP areas, each one consisting of a large U-shaped white leather couch with a low table in the center. The middle of the second floor was cut out so that each booth looked down on the dance floor and the main bar.
“So which lucky girl is about to turn you down?” Tommy asked from the booth, and Da
“This girl can turn me any way she wants,” Jake said. “DeLuca, come look at this.”
“I’ve seen girls before,” Da
“Not like this,” Jake said, never taking his eyes from the dance floor.
“Humor him,” Tommy said, “or we’re go
Da
Tommy chuckled as he brought his beer to his lips, and Da
“Check her out,” Jake said. “The blonde in the orange top.”