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I do. I need to make sure everything I’m doing is acceptable. That you won’t suddenly change your mind about me.
“Good night, beautiful.”
I slip into my room and turn off the lights. Then I sit by my open window for hours, watching Frank in his rocking chair. I listen to the crickets chirping songs about their lost lovers in the dirt. I imagine a life where I live with Brody. My mom and that man are distant memories. Love actually exists. It exists inside me and around me. I imagine a life where love doesn’t make people leave.
In my real life, the one where I’m sitting on a temporary bed in a temporary house with a man who temporarily likes me, love changes people for the worst. Love is never unconditional.
Chapter Seventeen
Brody
FOR THE PAST TWENTY MINUTES while I’ve been driving, Paige has been tapping the dashboard, her thighs, the seatbelt strap. Anything within reach. She’s not listening to her music, only tapping and chewing a section of her hair. Her constant nervous movements in the passenger seat are exactly how I feel in my gut.
This is our first date, so it was hard to focus on anything else the entire day. I spaced out so much at work that Miguel had to keep directing my clients so they finished their routines on time. I was too distracted with going over the date I planned in my head, hoping I got all the details right. Paige will love it. I hope she does. God, I hope she does. Only a little farther.
When we’re close enough to our destination to see the pink and orange hues of the sunset falling over the ocean, the hair slips from her mouth and she straightens, gazing out the window with wide eyes. When I park the car, she turns those wide brown eyes to me.
“Not so bad, right?” I ask, trying to sound like I’m a calm, collected dude even though I’m ready to puke from nerves. “The ocean is the perfect date. I know I look clueless, but I have my romantic moments. Still might be rusty though, so cut me some slack if I fuck up.”
She clutches her phone, a blush tinting each smiling cheek.
That smile relaxes my gut. “Yeah, I did good, didn’t I? Good job, Brody.” I leave her in the car smiling while I hurry to open her door. She steps out, wobbly on the Pepto Bismol wedges. They’re actually a great contrast to the black, knee-length dress she’s wearing. Great cleavage, too. I know it’s Amber’s dress, and I’ve decided I’ll have to buy her an entirely new wardrobe when she returns. No way do I want to see Amber in the clothes Paige has now sexualized by wearing.
Paige glances at her feet.
“Well, you didn’t know where we were going. I brought these.” I dangle a pair of flip-flops in the air.
She takes them, studying each one.
“I know. Thoughtful. Romantic. I’m not such a screwup on a good day. This will be great.” We’ll chill outside the house, and it will get her mind off the sexual stuff. She’s so distressed from not coming. I hope this date will help her stop worrying and enjoy our intimacy. I know I have.
While she switches shoes, I pull a folded card table and two chairs from the trunk, slinging a large backpack carefully over my shoulders to avoid damaging the flowers inside.
she asks.
“Our date stuff. Wait here and I’ll be back.”
She glances around nervously, but there’s no one else in the parking lot. The beach isn’t packed, either. There are people, but no crowds, so we can find a quiet, empty spot for dinner.
“Yeah. Or wait in the car if that feels better. I’ll be quick.”
She climbs back into the passenger side and locks the door.
I jog as best I can through the sand—great cardio—to an area close to the water, but not too close. It’s near a small lookout point just beyond a group of deserted volleyball nets.
After setting up the table and chairs, I jog back to the car and tap on the window. She rolls it down. “Ready?” I ask.
Her eyes dart from the sand to the waves to the seagulls as she chews her bottom lip.
“Is it the people?”
She shakes her head.
“Let’s try it. If it’s too much, we can go.” I open the door and hold out my hand. She takes it with a nod.
A gentle breeze stirs a few loose strands of hair along her forehead as we walk hand in hand across the concrete. “You look beautiful,” I say, and she blushes. I love that blush.
As we approach the edge where the concrete turns to sand, she pauses.
