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She felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. They’d kissed in the parking lot, but maybe Hawk was just a kiss-slut. Tildy wasn’t a kiss-slut though. Between the necklace, the kissing, and Hawk being so intense, she’d made a huge mistake.
Abby noticed her too, and the redhead’s scowl mirrored Hawk’s.
Now a few other people were eyeing her curiously. They knew they hadn’t seen her around. Something, something about Tildy marked her as different, and she would probably never be about to figure out what that something was.
Outsider, the voice in Tildy’s head screamed. It was the same way at home, at school, everywhere. One of these things is not like the others.
She could run. She’d done it enough times growing up. Kids of her parent’s rich friends would say, “Why do you speak Spanish? Preparing for your career as a maid?”
It was no secret that Tildy’s parents thought she was stupid. Having to ask her teacher to sign off on each day’s list of homework assignments in an effort to improve her grades had made it pretty obvious. Tildy’s grades hadn’t even been dismal. When your mother had a degree in accounting and your dad had a degree in finance and they both ran one of the largest banks in the city, a B- in math was unacceptable. They had seemed genuinely relieved that Tildy had even been accepted to SDSU.
But Tildy didn’t want to run anymore. She’d suffered enough humiliation in her life to know that one more knock wasn’t going to kill her or even put her on the ground.
She carefully arranged her face into a smile. It was easy enough to do; she’d had enough practice. Just seconds after a pinch or a hair pull, Tildy could look as serene as a cool, blue pond. Not a ripple of discontentment would mark her features.
She approached Abby, Hawk, and their friends. “Hi,” she said in a careful, measured tone that contrasted the bubbliness that sometimes escaped from her when she was excited.
She just wanted to get it over with and go back to her life, where there was never, ever anything like disappointment, because there was never anything to get her hopes up about.
Hawk nodded at her. “Nice that you came,” he said, though he looked as though he thought it was anything but. He jerked his chin a little to her left. “There’s food and beer over there. Enjoy yourself.”
Hawk may not look as though he meant a word of what he was saying, but Tildy was determined to not let any of her own feelings show to him or anyone else.
“Great. Thanks,” she replied.
Easy, whom she met during lunch at Burnout, but whose real name she didn’t know, smirked at Hawk. Shooter remained passive, probably because his wife was eyeing him warily. For a moment Tildy had a fleeting thought that she was caught up in some kind of reverse slumming-it dare.
Hey, bet you can’t get Miss Moneybags to come to the barbecue.
Piece of cake. All I had to do was kiss her. Pay up.
She turned to go, planning to skip the food and beer and quietly slip out the front door with no one the wiser as to what she really felt about being the butt of their joke. She would have made it, too, if right then Hawk hadn’t reached out and pulled one of the bikini girls to his side.
Tildy’s stomach churned and she jammed her nails into her palms. Over the years, she had become inured to her mother’s little reminders. She’d discovered pain could be useful. It could remind you not to make a mistake. It could also make everything you were feeling inside disappear for a moment. It could keep you focused just long enough to make an escape.
She dug her nails in deep, as she willed herself not to run. Walk, she told herself. Just walk away.
Tildy held her head high, even though no one was really paying attention to her anymore. She reached the back door and was about to step through when Tex came out. She nearly crashed into him and he grabbed her by the shoulders to avoid a collision. The distraction made her lose focus. The tears that Tildy had been keeping at bay suddenly welled up in her eyes.
“Aw, damn it,” he said.
From behind Tildy, Abby hissed, “I told you it wasn’t funny!”
The red head ushered Tildy into the house with one arm and shoved her boyfriend out with the other. She slid the door shut behind them.
“So, it was a joke,” Tildy said miserably.
“Oh, honey,” Abby said softly. “Sit down.”
Tildy tucked herself into the end of the couch and swiped at a tear that was sliding down her cheek.
“Honey, Hawk isn’t the guy for you.”
Tildy nodded. “I know. He’s been to jail, and we’re different, and-”
