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Her hand moved across the seat in his truck, glided along his thigh and then up to his crotch.
“Stop that,” he said. “You can walk into a place and no one knows what you’re feeling. I can’t.”
She giggled. “Fine. Party pooper. Guess you need to figure out a better time for us.”
“I can make tomorrow work,” he said. “If you want. Or Saturday.”
“A few hours of time or spend the night?” she asked. She might as well put it out there since tomorrow was Friday night. “You know, if you get called out for work, I could still be there waiting for you naked in bed.”
“You’re rough,” he said.
He parked his truck and her smile fell. She didn’t know what he meant by that and it seemed as if it wasn’t a compliment.
“Sorry,” she said, her shoulders dropping. “There I am pushing myself on a man again. It’s not what you want and I’m putting you in a mood.”
He let out a sigh. “I mean you’re rough in that my dick isn’t going to settle down anytime soon and we’ve got to sit here until it does. Stop talking about sex. I like it,” he said. “Seriously, I do. I like how open and expressive you are. But there is a time and place and walking into a restaurant wanting to strip you naked isn’t it.”
“Oh,” she said, perking up in her seat. “In that case, it makes me feel better. I’m not trying to be that way. I mean in the past I think I tried too hard, but with you, it just sort of comes out naturally.”
“Good,” he said. “I’m not asking you to be someone you aren’t.”
“Thank you for that,” she said. “A lot of times that happens. I hate it, but I understand it too.”
“What do you mean it happens?” he asked.
“That I try to be someone for whoever I’m with. No one tells me not to. I do it to get them to like me. I just feel like, with you, I’m not sure what you want or like or if you even care. So in that case, I might as well be me. I’ve already told you the way I am. You know, so it’s not worth pretending.”
“Shit,” he said. “I hate that you do that. I don’t pretend to be anyone more than I am. I mean I don’t pretend. It’s too hard and takes too much time. I tell people the way it is and how it is and if they don’t like it, then they can go pound salt.”
“Huh?” she asked. “What does that mean?”
“What?” he asked.
He was looking at her while they talked in the truck. She felt her shoulders drop. “Pound salt. What does that saying mean? I’ve never heard it.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I forgot there are things you might not be aware of.” She started to sniffle. “Now what did I do?”
The frustration on his face actually showed he cared.
“You didn’t laugh at me. Do you know how many people have laughed at me because I didn’t know what a saying was?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. “And you’ve told me before that has happened. That’s on them, not you. You told me about your childhood. I’m positive there are things you’ve experienced in life that I never will and if you said it to me I wouldn’t know what it meant. You wouldn’t laugh at me.”
“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t.”
“Pound salt just means if someone doesn’t like it, they can get lost. Not sure where or why it started. It’s kind of like go play in traffic.”
“Oh, I get that one,” she said.
“What else have you not heard of that someone didn’t understand or laughed at?”
“So many things. Boy bands I didn’t know or celebrities. Really lots of YouTube people or musicians. It’s not as if I spent a lot of time on the internet or following fashion trends. I spent so much time trying to catch up when we moved here. It was like a crash course and living with my grandparents hadn’t helped much.”
“Is that why you worked in retail stores?” he asked.
She’d told him that was her first job and where she stayed. “Yep,” she said. “I could see the styles and talk with people closer to my age. See them in the mall and observe. I’m good at observing things.”
“Kind of like my job,” he said.
