He glanced at me, studying me. “You really want to fight about this?”
I didn’t. I didn’t want to fight at all. I wanted things normal, happy, safe between us.
“Hey.” Troy’s determined voice brought my gaze back to his. “I’m sorry. I don’t like making you mad or upset. I’ll, uh, stop saying ‘females’ if it offends you.”
My heart jumped at the mini-victory that was Troy agreeing to change. I leaned up and kissed him. “Thank you.”
Before anything else could be said, some friend of his approached. “Yo, Troy, you ready for East tomorrow?” the boy asked, giving Troy dap and a hug.
Troy released me, turning and greeting his friend.
I took the opportunity to get up and walk away. We needed space. While we’d resolved one argument, there was still the never-ending big reoccurring one hanging in the balance.
Meandering through the club, I had no clue where I was going. The restroom came to mind, but once I saw the mile-long line, I knew it was out of the question.
SZA was singing about broken clocks and I felt my shoulders sag with the weight of the evening.
In the end, I decided I needed air, so I stepped outside to catch my breath.
I couldn’t do it.
This was our anniversary, and Troy probably wanted to make it special by taking that next step, but I could feel a hard knot in my gut at the idea of it. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin our night, but I couldn’t go back to his house with him.
I almost wanted to blame my dress, but I knew that even if I were dressed in a turtleneck and sweats, Troy would still want to go there.
A few paces from the club was a bar, and on the left side of the club was the long stretch of building After Hours occupied. I took a left and began walking down the block, aiming nowhere but to find peace of mind.
This was our anniversary night and we were about to spend it arguing over sex yet again.
The more I walked, the more upset I became. At myself. At Troy. At the entire situation. A part of me was sure I loved Troy, and another wasn’t so sure of anything.
In the beginning, it had all been so simple. Scary at times, but simple.
Now—
Crap.
I looked around and didn’t know where I was.
Spinning around, I did my best to swallow the fear beginning to take over. How many turns had I taken? Had I walked this way straight?
Businesses and bars lined the block across the street. Behind me were a café and a pool hall. A glimpse inside the pool hall window showed that it was busy with men and women playing a few games.
Before I could get out my phone and call Troy, I froze.
Inside the pool hall, among the dim lights and smoke in the air, was Guillermo.
He was up front, toward the middle, leaning over a red pool table about to make a move. What caught my attention was his hair. Instead of being secured by a ponytail, it hung free. It fell just past his ears, and it was thick and wavy. I liked it.
I chanced a look around me, figuring that maybe stepping inside to say hey to Guillermo would buy me some time before calling Troy. My boyfriend needed to cool off anyway, with where his head was at.
I slipped inside the pool hall and immediately felt out of my element. The lower back section was smoking approved, causing the odor to filter through the entire place. Beyond that, the rock music—or was it metal? Grunge?—also made me uncomfortable.
Guillermo was playing alone, but he spotted me instantly as I approached.
He rose from the table, his eyes drinking in my dress. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know. I got mad at Troy and took off. One wrong corner and I got lost,” I explained.
Guillermo shook his head as he chalked his cue stick. “You two spend more time fighting than you do lovin’.”
“You don’t know us.” But he was right.
Guillermo shrugged. “Just an observation.”
His nonchalance prickled across my skin, sinking in, it felt like. “We’re fine, he just—”
“Ran you off again.” Guillermo looked elsewhere. “Just an observation.”
Maybe he had seen me running away from Troy more than once, but what did he know?
The obvious, my conscience spoke up.
I hung my head. “I honestly just want to go home now.”
I could feel Guillermo’s gaze on me, but I didn’t have the heart to face him. He was right about Troy and me, because deep down I knew that if I went back to After Hours, we’d more than likely fight over how I’d left in the first place, and inevitably about how I didn’t want to go back to his parents’ house.
“I can take you,” Guillermo spoke up.
I lifted my head. “Yeah?”
“We’re neighbors, it’s no big deal.”
My mood brightened as I smiled. “Thanks, really.”
Around us, the atmosphere was heavy with the music, smoke, and the tattooed patrons. Some men were arguing over a game they’d played, causing the bartender to grimace.
I faced the street outside, more than ready to go.
“Hey.” Guillermo was standing behind me, leaning into the cue stick, his eyes devouring me.
“Yeah?”
“I didn’t say the ride was free.” A dangerous grin washed across his face and I struggled to calm my nerves.
Slowly, I walked closer to him. “Why are you playing alone?”
An arrogant smile took his lips as he gestured to a group of college-age guys at a table a few paces down. “Won some money from them and they no longer wanna play.” Guillermo gathered the triangle and began racking the balls. “People don’t like losin’ money.”
He must’ve been good. Real good.
“So, uh, what do you want for the ride?” In my clutch purse, I carried only my cell phone and a few loose bills in case of emergency.
He tipped his head. “Come play pool with me.”
“Pool? Let’s say...twenty bucks I’ll win?”
Guillermo smirked. “I don’t play girls for money.”
I lifted a brow. “Oh really? What do you play for?”
The mischievous look that washed across his face should’ve had me stopping the train of conversation, but I was curious—and I liked the smile.
Guillermo shook his head. “Forget it, we’ll figure it out.”
I folded my arms. “Uh-uh, tell me.”
“A lap dance.”
My mouth fell open. “Perv!”
He chuckled, that sexy grin showing no shame. “You asked. Besides, that was the old me. I’m a completely changed guy now.”
That daring gleam in his eye begged to differ.
“I don’t know how to play pool,” I told him. I knew what the object was when it came to the game, but as for the skills, they were beyond me.
Guillermo furrowed his brows. “Your friends don’t play?”
“Malika doesn’t. Troy might, I’m not sure.”
Guillermo shook his head, mumbling something beneath his breath. “It’s a shame. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you enough to play, but not enough to beat me.” He winked at me, seeming playful and carefree for the first time. I wondered if he was aware of how good he looked. Actually, from his cocky smile, I was sure he was.
After setting up the balls, he came over to me with an extra cue stick, quickly chalking it up before handing it over.
He came closer, making me tense up at his proximity.
Breathe, Regan, breathe.
Guillermo paused, hovering just behind me. I wondered if he could feel the heat between us like I could.
“Is it okay?” he asked. “If I touch you?”
I watched as he held up his large hand.
“I...” My words got caught in my throat, and I lifted my eyes to
his.
Funny, it was almost as though he were standing closer. “I only want to touch you with your permission.”
Slowly, I swallowed. Good lord.
Doing my best to ignore the fuzzy sensation deep in my belly, I collected myself and swept some hair behind my ear.
“Yeah, it’s...it’s okay,” I told him.
What I liked most in that moment was the fact that he asked to touch me. I didn’t have to bury discomfort while letting him.
It was hard to explain, as he adjusted my posture over the table, but I felt powerful being in control like that.
With one hand on my waist, he used the other to demonstrate how to drive the cue stick toward the cue ball. Once he was sure I understood the game, he stood away from me, leaning on his stick and waiting for me to go.
“Can, um, we move the cue ball to get a better position?” I asked.
Guillermo frowned. “Don’t ever play for money.” He narrowed his eyes and glanced down my body. “Or clothes.”
I was going to lose.
I bent over, slowly realizing just how hard it was to work the cue stick. Concentrating, I pushed it toward the cue ball and hit it just hard enough to break the balls but not enough to make them go into any pockets.
Guillermo was trying his best to hide his smile. “Good job.”
I rolled my eyes. “So we’re just playing for that ride home?”
He quirked an eyebrow and bit his lip, as if thinking.
Geez, he even makes thinking look good.
“Yeah, just a harmless game,” he assured me.
I nodded, standing back to let him to take his turn.
He positioned himself, leaning over as he made his move. Four balls went into four separate pockets.
He grinned, knowing just as I did that he was going to win.
The game was pretty hard to play. I was terrible, and each attempt I made to hit the cue ball only gave Guillermo new opportunities to get creative stifling his laugh. It didn’t take long until he was sinking the eight ball.
I wasn’t sour about losing. It just made me want to learn more so that I could wipe the grin off his face.
He came closer, eliminating the distance between us, his movement fluid with confidence. Waves of it overtook me as he came to a stop just in front of me. He rested his hand on the edge of the table and leaned, his muscles flexing with the weight. “Good game.”
The grin he shot me was distracting. My eyes flickered to the wall behind him, where a dartboard was hung up. “Can...you play darts?”
He tilted his head, eyes fixed on mine, a lock of hair resting against his jaw. “Now what do you think?”
I swallowed. I’ll take that as a yes. It was clear his hands were skilled at more than just arranging flowerbeds at the center.
“I will say, though, that was a funny game.” Guillermo set the balls up for someone else to come and play.
“I want a rematch,” I fumed. “And a better instructor.”
He smirked as he waved a hand toward the exit. “Yeah, you do that, so I can beat you again.”
I opened the door and led the way outside. It was getting chilly, and as I shivered, Guillermo placed a hand on my arm, offering warmth.
“You ready?” he asked.
My cell phone rang, the notification telling me Troy was calling. He must’ve finally realized I was gone.
Was I really going to accept Guillermo’s ride and ditch my boyfriend?
Going back to Troy meant dealing with a potential argument.
I was done discussing sex.
Sorry to further disappoint you, but I caught a ride home.
Tucking my phone away, I faced Guillermo. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Guillermo
Hermosa.
An angel in red.
Or maybe la diabla.
I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when Regan walked into Pete’s, but once I set eyes on that nervous smile she’d given me, my interest in pool went out the window. God help me if I wasn’t becoming addicted to that smile, those dimples, and the way they complemented the color of her skin.
I told myself to be smart about things and play it cool. She was my supervisor’s daughter.
I led the way to the parking lot, lightly steering her with my hand on her back. Her phone was ringing but she made no effort to answer it.
It was dark out, and annoying boyfriend or not, perhaps Troy was worried about her. She looked amazing in her dress; I’d be worried, too.
“Shouldn’t you let him know you’re okay?” I asked.
Regan paused for a moment, thinking it over.
Whatever Troy had done to run her off had left her disinterested in communicating with him.
It wasn’t any of my business, but something told me the guy was about to lose his girl. Thinking of the image of her playing pool, I almost felt bad for him. Regan was crazy cute when she was trying to win.
When we reached my Charger, she walked to the passenger door herself, but I made sure to step forward and open it for her.
Regan placed her hand on top of mine as she passed me to get into the car. “Thanks.”
Her skin was soft but I chose not to reflect on it.
Every bit of her was temptation, a dangerous tug toward the past. Harvey would lose his shit if he knew what I was up to. Fuck, so would my parents.
It’s just a ride, I told myself as I rounded the hood. Still, I found myself taking a few calming breaths before finally climbing in beside her. Suddenly the small space inside the car felt suffocating.
“Do you want gas money?” Regan spoke up.
That brought me back to earth. “We’re going to the same place. You’re good.” I set my key in the ignition and paused. “Do you like hip-hop?”
Regan smirked. “Uh, yeah.”
“Didn’t want to play anything offensive.”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “As long as I don’t hear some guy telling me to pop a pill or shake my ass, we’re good.”
I chuckled. “I prefer the thoughtful shit anyway.”
“Guess I’ll never see you in After Hours, huh?”
I thought of the night club I’d heard about around school. Up north in Rowling Heights, we didn’t have any clubs that let teens in. I’d never sneaked into one either, but the idea had been tempting. Maybe I would check out After Hours once I got more adjusted.
“You might,” I said as I grabbed my phone and began sifting through music.
“Well, I’m a Beyoncé type of girl,” Regan said proudly.
“Who isn’t,” I remarked. No wonder Regan had left ol’ boy behind. Strong women inspired her. Yesenia was more into the younger pop singers, from what I’d heard her listen to, but a lot of the girls I knew were fans of Beyoncé.
Regan perked a brow. “Oh, you’re not afraid to admit you like her? Troy always complains about her music.”
I shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt my masculinity an ounce to admit I like her.” Both my mom and my tía Lupe had blasted her while I was growing up. She was iconic.
To get us on the road, I found a Beyoncé song in my music and pressed Play. It had Bey and it had Jay; it was a win for both of us.
I could tell Regan appreciated the gesture when she leaned over to turn up the tune while Beyoncé sang about being unstoppable and how everything was “nice.”
I drove for home as Regan visibly got comfortable and relaxed beside me. I thought of how, at school, she always seemed so stiff and uncomfortable—especially under Troy’s arm. At the center she was slightly more in control, but I could tell it wasn’t her choice to work there.
It made me wonder what she wanted in the grand scheme of things.
Regan’s cell phone rang a total of five more times on the way back to Briar Pointe, all of which she ignored.
She bobbed her head and seemed to admire my choice of hip-hop as my music shuffled elsewhere from the Beyoncé song, but she stayed quiet, clutching her phone, clearly in her head about something. I didn’t want to pry.
As I pulled into my driveway fifteen minutes later, Regan heaved a sigh as she pressed airplane mode on her screen.
Oh he’s done for now.
We got out of my car and Regan stood there for a moment as she looked at her house across the street.
It really was a small world.
Bravely, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked over to her. “Something wrong?”
Her shoulders sagged. “I’m not ready to go back there yet.”
“Afraid they’ll ask about your date?”
Regan made a face. “You have no idea.”
The sound of a car door shutting nearby caught our attention. One look, and regrettably I found Troy marching his way to us.
Shit.
His whole demeanor read pissed-off, and his determined stride to get to Regan had me going on the defense as I caught her inching back.
“So this is what you’re doing?” he snapped at the sight of us together.
Regan hung back. “Troy, please.”
“Please nothing, Rey. I was looking for you, and now I find you with someone else?”
I didn’t like his tone, or the aggression in his stance as he faced off with her. It was his own fault she’d run off in the first place.
“Hey.” I parked myself in front of Regan, speaking gently. “Lower your voice, you’re scarin’ her.”
Troy’s dark eyes shot to me, accusation in them. “And who are you again?”
“My neighbor.” Regan’s voice came out strong. In seconds, she walked around me, standing firm and unafraid. “You know what, just leave, Troy. I’ll think about if I want to talk you in the morning.”
Troy snorted. “It’s like that? After all that I set up tonight?”
“I’m sorry you think I owe you something, but I don’t,” Regan responded.
Troy held up a finger.
“Please just walk away before I say something we’ll both regret.”
His jaw set. I was ready, in case he couldn’t take the hint. Luckily for Regan and me, he backed off. He stalked to his car and climbed in, slamming the door shut before driving up the street, hitting a U-turn, and taking off with a short screech of tires.
The Right Side of Reckless Page 13
