Page 73 of Rough

As soon as the words came out, I wished I could reel them back in, but I couldn’t. I wanted to know, but I regretted asking.

He sat up in his seat, as if eager to respond. “If I made a list of all the things that I wanted a woman to be, and then I made another list of all the qualities that you have, the two lists would be the same. Well, except the list of qualities you have is a lot longer. And, it’s got a lot of cool shit on it I didn’t know that I liked. Until now.”

Really?

I liked his response. No. I loved it. I swallowed heavily. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

I wanted more. I needed more. “What would be on the list?”

He leaned back and folded his arms. His gaze then went to the ceiling, and it seemed he was in deep thought. While his attention was elsewhere, I imagined his massive arms wrapped around me.

Holding me.

I realized he was looking at me. I diverted my eyes and met his gaze.

“Your attitude,” he said. “You don’t take any shit. You’re not afraid to say how you feel, and you don’t really care what anyone thinks. You’re like a girl version of me. I like that. And then your attitude on life. You’re kinda carefree. I’m OCD, and I’ve got to have everything clean and perfect. My bike, for instance. Every time there’s even a little scratch, I fix it at once. Everything’s got to be just right. And you drive your fuckin’ car around without a door. You could care less. That’s the coolest thing ever.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“I ain’t even close to done,” he said. “There’s a lot more.”

“Please, continue.”

“You take care of my Pop like he’s your own father. You’re kind, and caring, and loving, but you don’t let him – or me – run over you. And then, like the other day, you cut his nails. You didn’t cut ‘em because he told you to. Or because he asked you to. You did it because you noticed he needed it, that can only come from one place. It’s not training. Or college. It’s about having a heart. A big one. And then, there’s the weird stuff.”

I was intrigued. “Like what?” I chuckled

“I keep shit clean, but I can’t fuckin’ stand to rinse dishes. You can’t stand to have ‘em in the sink. I leave my coffee cup on the table at the coffee shop. They give me shit about it all the time. You get up and toss yours in the trash can as soon as you’re done. My house has everything in its place. Looks like a grocery store in my cupboards with everything lining up perfectly. But I hate to vacuum. Your house has lines in the carpet from where you’ve vacuumed it. You’re like my mom. But, when I put my kutte in your cabinet, the glasses aren’t lined up perfectly. I say fuck every other word, and you don’t cuss. Not at all. Ever. All these differences are the kind of shit that’s made my parents last forever. Pop calls it balance. I don’t know if that’s what it’s really called, but it’s good enough, I guess.”

He locked eyes with me and leaned forward. The hazel orbs I’d grown so fond of had vanished. They were now a gray-green with the tiniest crumbs of brown sprinkled cautiously throughout the iris.

I became immersed in them.

“And there’s also the other stuff like…”

I lowered my gaze to his lips. If a man ever had luscious lips, it was him. I watched them move, opening and closing with each spoken word. Words that I could no longer make sense of.

My mind had gone elsewhere. I was done. I’d reached the brink.

“Stop,” I said flatly. “Stop talking. I’ve heard enough.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said. “We need to go.”

“Where?”

“We need to leave. I want to go back to my place.”

His face washed with worry. “Why?”

“I decided I want you to kiss me.”

He seemed indifferent.

He stood.