I’ll buy a vibrator first. It would probably treat me better anyway…
“Are you going to stick with wine?” Arlo sat down across from me once we got a table.
“Yeah, I think so.” I nodded. “That seems safe.”
Arlo ordered whiskey, which I could have easily predicted, and I got red wine. I preferred that over the Riesling I tried at Marco’s Bistro. I probably thanked Arlo at least a half a dozen times for my new dress, to the point that he told me to shut down my gratitude for a little while and enjoy the rest of my evening. I couldn’t really help myself—I was excited to have that extra push towards my GED, and the new dress was going to be magnificent when I finally had plans worth putting it on for. Mostly, I was excited to be spending the rest of my evening with a wonderful guy, a friend I definitely didn’t deserve, and the most unlikely one there was.
If only there was a way for me to convince myself that his friendship is all I want.
“Oh, I meant to tell you…” Arlo reached for his whiskey. “I ran into Val while I was in Penny Grove.”
“Really?” I blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know she was back home.”
“Just visiting for the weekend.” He nodded and sipped his whiskey. “She did mention that she hasn’t heard from you in a while.”
“Damn, it has been a few months.” I looked down and sighed. “She’s always so busy with school that it’s hard for us to stay in touch like we used to.”
“I didn’t tell her that you were here, or that you were working for me—I wasn’t sure how much you wanted me to share.” Arlo’s statement sounded more like a question.
“It’s not really a secret.” I shrugged. “I just don’t post all of my meals on Instagram, or even have a Facebook account.”
“I never saw much point in that either.” He chuckled and took another sip of his whiskey. “I did make a MySpace page though—is that even still a thing?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I laughed and reached for my wine. “I was like five or six years old when it was popular.”
“Fuck…” He exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I’m old.”
“Nah, you really aren’t.” I shook my head and took a sip of my wine.
I had to rebut a couple more age jokes as we continued talking, and then Arlo brought up history—not the kind that I ran from, but the kind that I used to love. It had been a long time since I got lost in one of the books that used to consume my free time when I was younger. They just didn’t hold my interest as much as they did back then—but I was still excited about our trip to the museum. I used to beg my mom to take me some of the exhibits that passed through Penny Grove, but it was rare for her to have the time to do it. Exploring a whole museum was a childhood fantasy that I had basically forgotten until Arlo asked if I wanted to go to the one he spotted near the theater.
“So how did you get so fascinated with history anyway?” Arlo tilted his head inquisitively.
“Uh…” I looked down and almost blushed. “Yeah that’s kind of a funny story…”
“Oh?” He narrowed his eyes. “Good funny or bad funny?”
“Bad funny when it happened.” I couldn’t stifle my smile. “But I can laugh at it now.”
“Then I want to hear it.” Arlo sipped his whiskey.
I told Arlo about finding the curious paperback books on my grandmother’s bottom shelf, how I started reading them before I really understood all of the words and the education I got about things I had no business knowing at that age. Underneath the ripped bodices, or perhaps on top of them, were the stories—the different eras—the lives people lived before modern conveniences replaced elegance. Arlo seemed pretty surprised, but he laughed—even when I told him how all of that ended with a trip across my mother’s knee.
“Yeah, by that point, I was old enough to know better and had been devouring those books for years—so I kind of had it coming.” I shook my head and chuckled. “See, like I said—I can laugh about it now.”
“Reminds me of the time my dad caught me flipping through one of his Playboy magazines.” Arlo took a sip of his whiskey. “I didn’t get his belt though; I just got a pop upside the back of my head and a lecture about how he only had them because he enjoyed the articles.”
“Right.” I nodded suspiciously. “I bet that’s all you were doing—reading the articles.”
“Oh hell no.” Arlo shook his head quickly. “I didn’t even realize there were articles. I skipped every single one of those.”
“At least you don’t try to lie about it.” I took another sip of my wine and put the glass down.
The conversation carried us through a couple of drinks, but we didn’t really get that drunk. We were drinking slow—talking so much that the waiter realized that she didn’t have to check on us very often—and enjoying each other’s company more than the alcohol. There were moments when I thought I saw something in Arlo’s eyes—something that had been there since we left the dress shop—but I couldn’t really read his expression. It seemed to disappear before I could figure out what his eyes were trying to say that he wouldn’t put into words.
Is he thinking about the same thing I am, or am I just wanting to see it so bad I’m pretending it’s there?
It was pretty late before we finally walked outside. Neither one of us drove to the office. Arlo used Uber to get around the city and kept his car parked at the hotel. I relied on public transportation to get anywhere I needed to go.
“I think it’s too crowded around here.” Arlo motioned ahead of him. “We should walk to the end of the block so our Uber driver can find us easier.”
“Good idea.” I nodded in agreement. “We would probably check ten cars before we found the right one considering how many are stopping.”
“Bright and early tomorrow for the museum?” Arlo looked over at me as we walked.
“Yeah.” I nodded and pulled my Juul out, so I could get in a few drags before my ride arrived.
“Do you use any other flavor than mango?” Arlo laughed. “I swear it’s like walking in a mango fog every time you hit that thing.”
“Mint sometimes.” I shrugged. “Do you not like mangos?”
“No, I actually love them.” He nodded. “I was just curious.”
My lips taste like mango right now—but you have no interest in them.
I might have been feeling the wine more than I thought—or maybe it was just the overactive hormones coursing through my body, but I was having a hard time not thinking about things that were wildly inappropriate. I wished Arlo would just take my hand—like he did when we were walking to the dress store—or treat my blouse like it was a bodice in one of the books I used to read. My body was practically blazing with thoughts that would never be more than images in my head. We got to the end of the block and waited for our rides to show up. They were busy, just like they always seemed to be on the weekend, and it appeared that we were going to be stuck there for another ten minutes or so.
“Now we wait—to go our separate ways…” I looked down at the sidewalk and tried to hide my disappointment.
“Until tomorrow.” Arlo nodded.
“Yeah.” I turned away so that I wasn’t blowing the vapor in his face.
“You okay?” He tilted his head inquisitively.
“Fine.” I nodded.
“It’s never fine when a woman says it is.” He narrowed his eyes.
“I really am.” I nodded quickly. “Just thinking about things that are really complicated…”
“Us?” He took a step towards me.
“Um…” I paused for a second but decided that it was too obvious for me to lie. “Yeah, it’s something like that.”
“Something like every reason why it could never happen?” He reached out and took my hand, which made a warmth shoot through my body.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to meet anyone like you.” I looked up at him. “Even with a million options out there. I feel so safe when we’re together—every time I think I’ve got
an idea of what that one guy would look like, I see something in you that makes me feel it’s even more unattainable.”
“You’re not the only one that has those thoughts.” He looked down and sighed. “I’m tempted, trust me—and that temptation seems to get stronger no matter how much I try to fight it.”
“Then don’t fight it.” I felt a tremble shoot through me.
“But that’s…” He blinked a couple of times.
Impossible? I don’t care anymore.
I didn’t give Arlo a chance to finish his sentence. I latched onto the front of his shirt with the hand he wasn’t holding and kissed him. There was hesitation on his part—he wasn’t ready for it—he was letting those impossible thoughts keep him from giving in while I gave it everything I had. A second before I gave up, I felt the mental barrier he had put up disintegrate. I wasn’t holding onto him anymore—he was holding me. I wasn’t just kissing him—he was ravaging my lips with the same desire that coursed through my veins. Fireworks went off in my head, and my thoughts started spinning—it felt like the whole world was spinning when our lips finally parted.
“Your lips taste like mango…” He exhaled sharply.
“You said you liked it.” I bit down on my bottom lip and grinned—then I noticed a car idling right next to us. “I think they may be waiting on one of us.”
“Yeah.” He nodded quickly.
I prayed that it was his—because he wouldn’t have left me standing there until mine arrived. My prayer wasn’t answered—maybe I wasted all of them just to get that first kiss. Arlo held my hand until I sat down and then slowly let go. He might have held on longer if the driver wasn’t already getting rather impatient. I wanted to scream for joy and start dancing in the backseat of the car when it pulled away from the curb. I didn’t care how complicated or impossible it was. I wanted Arlo—and I was almost certain that he wanted me too.
It doesn’t have to be that complicated. We’re two people that found something we didn’t have…
Chapter Seventeen
Arlo
I got lost in a moment, and when I sat down in my car, the weight of what I did came crashing down on my shoulders. All of the reasons why we shouldn’t be together evaporated in a haze that was a lot more overpowering than the mango on Phoebe’s lips. I could have pushed her away—I could have told her that it was a mistake—but deep down, I didn’t want it to be. I wanted all of the complications to disappear into the night air forever just so I could hold her in my arms. It was foolish and reckless, but it was also beautiful—and it left me dazed. I didn’t even know how to stop my head from spinning or collect my thoughts.
I can’t take that kiss back, even if I wanted to.
Our weekend apart showed me how much I enjoyed spending time with her, and it went deeper than the friendship that had developed between us. She made it fun to be cooped up in a conference room, staring at boring paperwork five days a week, and the weekends had belonged to us since I walked into that diner. I really didn’t want her to date a million guys looking for the one that had enough of the qualities she saw in me—just like I didn’t want to take home a random woman that made eyes at me from across the room in a restaurant.
I’m not sure where we go from here, but we’re going there together…
* * *
I woke up the next morning to a text from Phoebe that made me smile—she was ready for our day to begin. I quickly showered, quaffed a cup of coffee, and decided to skip breakfast because I wanted to see her as soon as possible. If my calculations were right, it made more sense to just get a car for the day rather than wait around for an Uber. Maybe it wasn’t cheaper, but I preferred a driver if I had an excuse to have one. Living in Penny Grove, where the streets were usually sparse with traffic, made me dislike driving in the city—I wasn’t aggressive enough to fly into a rage just to go downtown.
Alright, I am all set. Now I just have to go pick her up…
Phoebe and I always met somewhere or walked there from work on Friday afternoon. I hadn’t been to her apartment, and after my driver took the last turn towards her building, I had a sense of worry sweep through me. It didn’t look like the safest neighborhood, and while the apartment building itself was in decent shape, there was an empty building right next to it that had been covered in graffiti. We had a little bit of that from the teenagers back home that felt like it was their god given right to tag everything that was vacant, but it wasn’t so rampant.
I feel like she should have an armed bodyguard to even walk to the subway—much less when she rides it.
“Hi!” Phoebe waved to me as soon as she stepped out of her apartment building.
“Well hello there.” I smiled. “You look just as good in a t-shirt and jeans as you did in that dress last night.”
“You already got me to kiss you—no reason to keep flattering me.” She gave me a slight roll of her eyes as she walked to the car.
“I’ll flatter you forever.” I opened the car door. “And anytime that I want…”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to learn to love compliments.” She nudged me as she sat down.
I hit the divider to block the driver’s view as soon as we were seated in the backseat and pulled her close for a kiss that blew away our first one—if that was even possible. I was just going to have to get over how reckless and foolish it felt because there was no way I could let go of her. She wasn’t the same girl my son dated in high school—that girl had her innocence crushed the day he ended their relationship. She was a woman in my arms that deserved to be loved with everything that I had, and that was exactly what I wanted to give her.
“Do we need to talk about this?” Phoebe interlocked her hand with mine and squeezed.
“What do you mean?” I looked over at her and narrowed my eyes.
“This—us.” She looked down for a moment.
“Are you having regrets?” I tensed up.
“Not a single one.” She shook her head quickly. “Are you?”
“I probably should, but no—I don’t.” I mirrored her reaction with a quick shake of my head as well.
“I feel like we’re going to have rules.” She let out a long sigh. “Like, we obviously have to keep it professional when we’re working on Demi Hart’s case.”
“Absolutely.” I nodded in agreement.
“I don’t feel like we need to hide our relationship, but we should probably be careful with who we tell.” She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think?”
“I’m not going to get a megaphone and announce it in the middle of Penny Grove, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I stifled a smile. “Unless you really want me to…”
“No!” She wasn’t able to hold back her smile. “But—there could be problems.”
“I know what you’re trying to say.” I nodded in agreement.
Jake, obviously. But he threw her away, and he hasn’t spoken to me in almost a year, so we can’t let him rule our lives—or stand in the way of what has developed between us.
I didn’t have any problem with keeping our relationship on a need-to-know basis. There really wasn’t anyone that I wanted to share the news with—not yet at least. If she decided to share it with her mom or her friends, then I wasn’t going to tell her that she couldn’t. I wasn’t ashamed of following my heart, and I didn’t care if judgment came my way. I knew what it would look like due to our age difference alone, but I could handle a few comments that people were only brave enough to say under their breath or when I wasn’t in the room. I knew what really drew us together, and it was a connection that meant more than anything else in the world.
“The museum looks a little busy…” Phoebe looked out the window as we approached.
“That’s okay; I got tickets this morning, so we can skip the line.” I tapped my phone and showed her the confirmation.
“Nice!” She smiled and gave me a quick hug.
The layout of the museum was interesting. The primary exhibit was called Th
e History of Man, which started with the caveman days and carried all the way through to space exploration. Phoebe seemed most interested in Medieval and Victorian history, which wasn’t surprising after hearing where she first got a taste for it. It was a shame she never got to go to college and pursue her dream of teaching after things fell apart for her because she taught me a few things that weren’t presented in the exhibits.
“Did you know that in the Victorian era, water wasn’t really safe to drink?” Phoebe looked at me.
“Really? What did they drink?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
“Beer.” She smiled. “It was the safest thing to drink—or someone who really liked beer started that rumor.”
“Wow, that definitely changes my perspective of the era.” I laughed and shook my head. “Admittedly, I don’t know much.”
“Victorians were pretty wild—they turned tattoos from something weird to a fashion trend. Not that you could really see them since everyone had their ankles covered.” Phoebe looked down and laughed.
“Wait, they got inked up?” I was even more surprised to hear that than I was to find out everyone was drunk pretty much twenty-four seven.
“Yep!” Phoebe nodded. “It all started when one of Victoria’s sons visited Jerusalem and came back with a tattoo.”
“I guess if the royals were doing it…” I shrugged.
“Yeah, and don’t even me started on those pelvic massages to cure what they called—hysteria in women.” Phoebe squeezed my hand.
“Hold on, who was giving these pelvic massages.” I gave her a side-eyed glance.
“Doctors.” She nodded and smirked. “One of the books I read from my grandmother’s shelf described it in graphic detail—and also said that doctors ended up basically inventing the vibrator because they were wearing out their hands from all of the massages.”
“Isn’t that basically prostitution?” I chuckled under my breath.
“More like getting a happy ending—you know, like people were getting at the massage parlor, they had to shut down in Penny Grove.” Phoebe squeezed my hand.
My Ex Boyfriend’s Daddy Page 11
