Fan Girl (Los Rancheros)

by Brandace Morrow

  ‘‘Yeah, no problem. I’ll watch the meat.”

  I go into my bedroom and change into a black camisole and black yoga pants. Walking back into the living area my eyes land on Deklan’s ass as he stirs the meat. So. Hot. I walk up and take over the spatula as his eyes scan my body.

  “I knew I loved yoga,” he says in a deep voice.

  I look over my shoulder and smile. “Oh, like you didn’t notice all of those hot chicks in your class,” I say jokingly.

  He shrugs his shoulder and leans his hips against the counter by the stove. “I just had an instructor that pushed and pulled me the whole time, and not in a good way. I never thought of her that way. I thought she was trying to kill me. Now I do it all myself.”

  I look at him and try my hand at flirting. “You can be my instructor any time.”

  He lifts his eyebrows, “Baby, our yoga session would last about five minutes, you can believe that.” The sexual tension has been growing between us. Has it been that many dates yet? Counting dancing and dinners, we have to be on at least three dates, right? Does it count if there’s one every day? Too soon? I don’t know, but I’m dying.

  Deklan clears his throat. “So what are we having for dinner?”

  “Shepherd’s pie,” I answer.

  He gets a hungry look again, but this time I think it’s for the food. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind and says, “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

  Changing the subject I suggest, “Why don’t you see what you can find on the television?”

  He walks over and, just like a man, is instantly familiar with my remote. They’re two long lost friends, by the way it does exactly what he wants. A basketball game is going as he takes a knife to my boxes I got earlier.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He shrugs and pulls out the juicer, sets it up, then moves on to the other boxes. I’m cooking down onions and garlic as he takes the three books and settles in front of the television. I, of course, notice he looks good there on my couch.

  I put everything together and into the oven, then grab two glasses of tea to sit with him. He’s reading and flipping through a What to Expect book.

  He holds out the book for a second, then goes back to reading, saying, “It says here the baby is four to five inches long, can hear you, and anything goes sex wise.”

  I laugh. “Just hitting the high notes, huh?”

  He chuckles. “Well those are the important parts. Everything else is how it looks like an alien right now.”

  I laugh. He sets the book aside and I ask, “Who’s playing?”

  He replies, “Lakers, doesn’t matter who else. Have you been to a game?”

  I shake my head. “Not my sport. I love football, though.”

  “I could get us tickets,” he offers, then shrugs his shoulders. “But then there would be pictures of us at the game everywhere.”

  I slap his arm and sit up. “Hey! I forgot to yell at you for posting that picture of me getting on the plane!”

  “You could forget some more?” he suggests. Then seeing my glaring eyes, he rolls his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. How many people know what your carry-on looks like?”

  “Only my whole staff! We went to Nordstrom’s on Black Friday last year!” I inform him.

  He mutters, “Of course you did. Well, you weren’t going to keep me your dirty little secret forever, were you?”

  “There’s nothing dirty about this secret,” I say without thinking.

  He lunges, knocking me down on the couch to my back. Close to my face in a deadly serious tone he says, “I can make it dirty real fast for you.”

  I stutter out a breath. “Dinner might burn.” It’s the only thing I can think of wrong with that suggestion.

  He sits back up, muttering, “Later, then.” Ohhhh boy, I can’t wait ‘til later.

  Deklan winds up eating three helpings in front of the television, watching the Laker’s smoke whoever they’re playing. I never found out.

  We end up snuggling on the couch, my front to his side, head on his shoulder. I soak it in. This is the perfect moment. Right now he’s not Deklan Thomas the rock star, he’s Deklan the guy, holding a girl, relaxing at the end of the day.

  I doze off and wake up to the television off and fingers stroking over my face. I can feel the calluses from playing guitar, and I want to butt my head against him like a cat. “Hey baby, you should go to bed. I’ll head out.”

  I think he’s offering to be good, but I do have another full day tomorrow, and a glance at the clock shows it’s coming up on midnight. I know he probably should go, so I say, “Alright, what are you doing tomorrow?”

  Deklan answers, “Playing golf in the morning, then I need to write. I’m getting together with the guys next week to see what we’ve got.”

  “Okay, do you have plans for dinner tomorrow or do you want to spend it alone?” So I’m kind of fishing but he’s the one always suggesting we see each other, and I don’t want it to be one sided.

  He looks relieved, “No plans, don’t want to be alone. Want me to meet you here, same time?”

  I smile, relieved too. “Yeah sounds perfect.”

  He leans his head down to mine and gives one hell of a kiss before whispering in my mouth, “Perfect.”

  Chapter 20

  The week passes in the same way. Deklan comes to my house for dinner after work, and I usually fall asleep sprawled over him watching television. There’s more making out, some second base action, but nothing below the belt. Sadly.

  Sunday comes, and somehow Deklan talks me into going golfing with him. I do not golf. I may play some touch football every once in a while when the girls want to get together with another shop and smoke the guys, but golf isn’t my thing.

  I find a white three-quarter sleeve, button-down shirt and tuck it into tangerine shorts that are pretty short with a brown skinny belt. I put my hair into a ponytail with a pouf and a pair of tan loafers with leopard print on the sides that I thought were cute, but have never worn. A pair of brown aviator sunglasses completes the look just as Deklan knocks on the door.

  I open and hold my gut laughing.

  He’s in a navy polo shirt, with bright red, tan, and white diamond pattern pants. He looks down with a grin. “What? This is golf fashion. Ali?”

  I wipe a tear from my eye and say, “I have to have a picture, give me your phone.”

  He hands it over seconds later, and I snap a picture of his badass self in those ridiculous pants.

  When I hand the phone over he pulls me to him and gives me a kiss saying, “You do good things for those shorts.”

  “Well, thank goodness this will pass. I don’t own golf clothes,” I say scathingly.

  He laughs. “What no neon orange skort or visor?”

  I gasp, jokingly offended, and he laughs more.

  Turns out it’s a good thing I don’t know anything about golf, because that gave Deklan a reason to wrap his arms around to teach me. I see what he means about yoga now. I’m ready to drive our cart into the bushes and have my way with him.

  After I thoroughly suck and lose too many balls into said bushes, we finish the game and have lunch on the terrace of the country club.

  “So how was your first golf lesson?” he asks.

  I shrug flippantly. “You can instruct me anytime, Mr. Thomas.”

  His eyes go instantly hot. “I’m pretty sure I can teach you a few things you might find more enjoyable.”

  Well I walked into that one, again. What now? “I’m already pregnant Dek, I think that speaks for itself.”

  He leans into me and says quietly in the crowded lunch crowd, “That doesn’t mean dick. Give me five minutes, and I’ll prove it.”

  I’m already breathing hard, and I don’t doubt him for a second. I look around for a shady spot, and he laughs.

  “Why don’t we get out of here, and I’ll show you what I mean?”

  I yell, “Check,” and he throws his head back and laug
hs long and loud. All of these proper people are staring at us, but I don’t care. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.

  Our waitress, who looks just out of high school, has been making googly eyes at Deklan the entire time we’ve been here. She recognizes him for sure and keeps rudely ignoring me.

  “Can I get you dessert?” She flips her hair and bats her lashes.

  I smirk at Dek and roll my eyes.

  He looks me up and down once then tells her, “I think we’re going to have dessert at home, we’re ready for the check,” while looking at me the whole time.

  “It’s a good thing this is a private club or she would be asking for your autograph on her boobs.” I laugh.

  He smiles and looks around. “Thank God for that.”

  Our waitress brings the check, then Deklan pulls out my chair. As we’re walking out, he stops a couple coming in and asks them to take a picture of us together with his phone. My eyes shoot to him. I’m shocked. Why would he do that? He sees my puzzled look and just gives a half smile. Putting one hand in his pocket and the other around my waist, he smiles toward our photographer. I put one hand on his stomach and the other around his waist. I hope my smile doesn’t look fake. Who is he going to show this to?

  Deklan thanks the couple and shakes their hands before leading me to his car.

  “What are you going to do with that?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know, I just wanted one with us together. Not a big deal.”

  He just went out of his way to ask for a picture of us together. He opens my door but grabs my hand so I can’t get in. I look up at him and his face is looking at me like he’s amused.

  “So are you ready to go public with this yet? We kissed days ago and you’re still seeing me.”

  I search his face. “I’ll tell you what. You go with me to my appointment tomorrow, and if you aren’t shitting your pants scared afterward, I’ll agree to date you for real.” My heart is about to pound out of my chest. I can’t believe I just suggested I get involved with someone I’m not even sure can be in a relationship. Slut. But what does that make him that he’s pushing this? Shit I don’t know, I’m just going with what I want, which is him.

  He smiles at me and I can only stare in a daze. He leans over and gives me a soft kiss, saying, “Thank you, babe.”

  We get back to my house and he turns to me without shutting off the car. “Do you want me to stay, or go?” He raises his hand and slides his fingertips over my cheek.

  I flash back to the learning that we talked about and the dessert he wants. I really, really want to, really. But now I’m feeling undecided. The more I’m around him the more I like him. But he’s never been in a relationship. Hell, I’ve never been in a relationship, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I can’t sleep with him again until I know he’s going to stay.

  I sigh from deep in my heart. “Why don’t we wait until tomorrow? See how that goes?” I ask quietly.

  He nods his head and gives me another soft kiss. Whispering against my lips, “I’ll see you in the morning. Everything’s gonna be okay, Ali.”

  As I walk in my house and start cleaning, I think about how much I want him in my life. How much I want to share this with him. How scared I am just to go to the doctor’s appointment with him. I clean like a fiend. Laundry, mopping, dusting, I even vacuum out my car. About six I hear the ding sound and plop down on the couch to pick up my phone on the coffee table.

  RedyGo: Are you freaking out yet?

  DirtyDozen: Absolutely. My house is freakishly clean. You can eat off of the floor.

  RedyGo: Is that where you ate dinner? On the floor?

  DirtyDozen: No I just stopped moving. I don’t want to dirty my kitchen, I’ll probably order something in a minute.

  RedyGo: Have you ever had that Cuban place down on the beach? It’s amazing.

  DirtyDozen: No I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  RedyGo: What?!? Prepare to have your mind blown. I’ll pick it up and be there in 30.

  What?

  DirtyDozen: I thought we agreed to wait.

  RedyGo: We did, we are. But I know you’re gonna work yourself up and not sleep tonight. You seem to fall asleep on me all the time. What do ya say?

  He’s worried about me sleeping. And he’s bringing me dinner. I sigh. I’m not dumb enough to say no to that.

  DirtyDozen: You twisted my arm

  Deklan rings my doorbell and when I open the door, my breath stutters to a stop as usual. He’s wearing holey faded jeans with brown leather flip flops and a white t-shirt. He’s covering his sadly shaved head with a dark brown slouchy beanie. I really liked his hair. I swing the door open and as he steps past me, he leans down and kisses my forehead as I breathe him in.

  “Cuban, huh?”

  He’s unloading the aluminum pans from the plastic bags. “Of course. If you live in this town, you have to know the best kept secret.”

  I reply, “The vegan place down the street.”

  He gives me a confused look before conceding. “Okay, maybe there’s more than one. This food is the best I’ve found outside of my mom’s. It’s on par with the Keys.”

  “Ooo I want to go to the Keys. I haven’t been since college.”

  He dishes out plates pointing out, “Plantains, black beans and rice, picadillo, and Cuban bread.”

  Everything looks mouthwatering and smells even better. We settle on the couch with a glass of tea, and Deklan commandeers the remote right away.

  I take my first bite of seasoned hamburger meat and moan. Eyes closed, head tilted back, I chew the exploding flavors in my mouth. I swallow and look over at Deklan. He’s watching me with a twitch of his lips like he wants to smile but is holding back.

  “Good?” he asks casually.

  “I want to eat this for the rest of my life.”

  He finally lets out a laugh and takes a bite from his plate. “You’ll have to have my mom’s. She makes a boliche that just falls apart. It’s a Cuban pot roast.”

  I nod my head, though the thought of meeting his mom gives me butterflies in my stomach. “Anytime.”

  After I stuff myself to barely breathing, Deklan takes my plate and puts it in the dishwasher with his. I’m leaning back on the couch watching sports highlights. He stands behind me, puts his hands on my shoulders and talks softly in my ear. “Why don’t you go take a bath?”

  I rest my head back on the couch to see him better, and he kisses me upside down, letting his hands slide in the collar of my shirt to stroke my collarbone and throat. He pulls back and gives me another shorter kiss, then straightens up.

  I right my head and wait for the room to stop spinning. Dear God, please don’t let him freak out tomorrow. I get up and walk into my bathroom. After turning on some Coldplay, I rest and try to calm my nerves. Tomorrow it all becomes real.

  I stay in the tub until the water is chilly and then slip on my black and white Hunger Games cami and capri PJ set. My hair goes in a wet braid, and I do my nightly routine. When I get back to the living room, Deklan is laying on the couch, with one hand behind his head, the other holding the remote on his stomach. He looks me over and starts laughing.

  “What?” I ask offended.

  “Your shirt says District 12.”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re not a fourteen-year-old girl, and you’re not a teenage boy crushing on Jennifer Lawrence either.” He’s smiling big.

  I shrug. “Did you read those books? So good. I never even saw the movie, though I do like Jennifer Lawrence. I’ve seen her interviews, she’s hysterical.”

  He holds his arms open so I can get into my favorite spot. “She is really cool. Not a lot of people can stay grounded in Hollywood, that’s for sure.”

  Well of course he knows her. Pfffft. I’m not insecure. Okay that’s a lie. These are the circumstances that have become my life. That girl is beautiful. I must have tensed up.

  Deklan rubs my arm with the hand he has around my shoulders.
“I met her on a talk show one time, before she tripped.”

  Okay I feel better. “Sorry,” I say.

  He shrugs. “You’re a beautiful woman, but you’re still a woman.”

  I try to explain. “I’m not normally like that at all. I wouldn’t be if I wasn’t about to go to an obstetrician tomorrow. If my life hadn’t made this turn. Most guys don’t want a commitment at all.”

  I feel Deklan’s chest raise me up and down as he sighs. “I didn’t want a commitment for a long time. I was that guy. But that changed when I got on twitter to see who I could get riled up.” He smiles. “You won me over with bad jokes and dry humor.” He gets serious. “Everything is going to be just fine. I’ll prove I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’re kind of great, I don’t think I’ve told you that today. And thank you for dinner,” I say

  “Not golf?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to put too fine a point on it,” I say dryly.

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You know you liked golf, if only for having my hands all over you.” He smiles smugly.

  “Conceited!” I yell.

  “Truth,” he says firmly.

  “It’s a wonder your big head fit through the front door!” I shoot back.

  “Why do you think I shaved my head?”

  I laugh at that one.

  Deklan smiles watching me, then palms my head down to his chest playfully. He growls, “Sleep woman, I’m missing the game.”

  I rest my head on his hard chest and smile. I could do this forever. I look back up at him and ask quietly, “Why did you get chicken tattoos, Dek?”

  He tucks his chin in and looks at me. Studying my face, I feel him breathing against me. Finally he says, “Because once upon a time we only had one fan, and she told me once not to count them. So I don’t, I just count how many albums go platinum. Because that means we have fans to buy them.”

  I smile with watery eyes and whisper, “I’ll always buy your albums.”

  His face is warm and there’s a small smile on his lips when he whispers back, “I know.”