Way To My Heart

by Barbara C. Doyle

I scoffed. “I remember him wanting to get one of us to take our clothes off for money.”

  “He was looking for a good time.”

  “You told him I’d be his five-dollar hooker!”

  “I wouldn’t sell you for less than ten!” she informed me matter-of-factly. “And you told me you wanted to strip at least once in your life! It was the perfect opportunity.”

  She wasn’t entirely wrong. I did want to experience what it was like to strip. It seemed oddly empowering to know what my curves could do to a man. Guys wanted to use my body all the time, and for once I wanted that power over them. To know they could look but not touch.

  Except, I had two left feet and no rhythm or coordination. If I ever had the guts to take my clothes off in front of anyone, I’d probably trip and fall off the stage, injuring some poor guy in the crowd. Then I’d be paying them for their medical bills.

  Mashed Potato must have noticed my growing irritation because she jumped off my lap and onto the corner of the couch, eyeing me like she was waiting for a bomb to go off.

  “You told him I had tiny boobs!” I blurted.

  She laughed. “Babe, you do have tiny boobs. And, if memory serves, I told him that you didn’t have the ‘biggest boobs’ and he said it didn’t matter, boobs were boobs.”

  Iris didn’t understand the struggle because hers were twice the size of mine. The first thing that vanished when I first lost weight a year ago was my chest, not that I had a lot to offer before. My once-beloved C-cups could practically squeeze into A-cups now.

  I rolled my eyes. “How considerate of him. Let’s be real. For some screwed up reason, you want me to hook up with him. And I’m sure after the stripper thing last year, he thinks I’m easy.”

  “Um, hold up. First off, I just want you to get laid in general. It’s been way too long for you, and maybe you’ll be in a better mood if you had a big O.”

  What Iris didn’t know was that I lied to her about having sex with Tyler Grayson my freshman year of college. In fact, it was the lack of sex that made us stop talking. Well, that and the fact I walked in on him screwing my old roommate. I believed his words were ‘I had to get it somewhere since you weren’t putting out.’ But I hadn’t wanted to admit that I was still a virgin. So, I told her that I slept with Tyler because I was too ashamed of the truth.

  “…and that’s what I have to say about that. So there.” My silence must have been an obvious indicator that I’d tuned her out. “Are you even listening to me, bitch?”

  I cringed. “Um, no.”

  She sighed. “You’re frustrating sometimes, you know that? I just want you to have fun. Don’t waste all your time working when you should be going out and experiencing life. If you don’t want to go out with Caleb, then fine. But at least put yourself out there with somebody else. I figured I could kill two birds with one stone, is all.”

  “It sounds to me like he just wants to get his dick wet,” I grumbled, picking fluffy white cat hair off my black yoga pants.

  She made a gurgled sound. “Gross. Caleb may come off as kind of conceited, but he just knows what he wants. At least he told you, you had a nice ass!”

  Kind of conceited was a mild way of putting it, but I didn’t say anything. After all, she was obligated to make her brother seem like less of an ass than he really was. Now more than ever given her intentions.

  “Is that supposed to make me want to pounce on him?” I asked sarcastically. “I’m sure he’s a good guy when he wants to be, but why bother starting anything with somebody if they’re just going to leave?”

  There was no point in investing in a person if they weren’t going to be around to reciprocate. And hookups led to feelings, which led to heartbreak. Who wanted to be broken?

  “Then don’t catch the feels,” she said.

  I blew out a heavy breath. That seemed much easier said than done. She probably didn’t think that was an issue for me since I never dated. It wasn’t like Tyler scorned me forever, but he did do a number on my self-esteem. And we hadn’t even made things official. We hung out, held hands, kissed, but to him I wasn’t worth the extra time it took to get to know me as more than just some notch on his bed post.

  “I haven’t caught the feels yet,” I reminded her dryly, forcing the thought away.

  “That’s because you don’t give yourself a chance to,” she countered. She knew me too well, which was funny. We only worked together six months out of the year when the motel was open for tourist season. When winter came, we’d text sometimes, but she was busy with her family, and I was busy working my retail job. Occasionally, I would babysit while she and her husband Tony had a date night, but it was never more than a few times during the off season since her parents usually helped.

  Running my tongue against my bottom lip, I think back to the few times I crushed on guys. It didn’t happen very often, but when it did, it hit me hard. And it never, not once, worked out in my favor.

  Lucas Croft was the first person I tried filling the unfixable gap with. We had gym together in high school where I mostly just stared at his butt in the nylon basketball shorts he wore as he ran around the court. I was supposed to be playing too, but then, the only time I ever ran was if something was chasing me.

  The summer before we graduated, Lucas had asked me if I wanted to go to Valley Forge, the local hookup spot. And me? Well, I wasn’t the type of girl that boys asked there. But when Lucas had, my friend Maci had encouraged me to go. He’d never shown interest in me before, but she insisted it didn’t matter. And since Maci had experience with boys, I wasn’t one to question her.

  Valley Forge was where I had my first kiss, on the docks with my feet in the water. As far as kisses went, it could have been worse. But my lack of comparisons at the time made me realize just how bad it was.

  Kissing Lucas was what I imagined being licked by a bulldog would be like. It was sloppy, wet, and kind of gross. I tried enjoying it, but between his tongue practically choking me and fish tickling my toes, it was hard to find anything good about it.

  After it was over, Lucas admitted he only invited me because Maci had suggested it. The truth had hurt. What was worse was that I didn’t even have a decent kiss to remember it by.

  My expectations of boys were based on the silly books I read and movies I watched. The ones where they said all the right things, and everyone lived happily ever after in the end. It was a naïve thought, but one I’d always held onto.

  Shaking off the thought, I came back to reality. One that involved fictional men instead of real ones.

  “I see what you’re saying,” I relented. “I just can’t get involved with anybody right now. I’m working sixty-five hours a week, and I only get one full day off.”

  “Which is one day off to have fun!”

  I snorted. “It’s the day where I run errands and do laundry. Not exactly stimulating stuff going on around here.”

  She burst out laughing. “Did you just say stimulating? Oh my God, Paisley. We really do need you to get laid. I’m telling you, one good fuck and you’ll be walking on the clouds.”

  My face heated up over that. The only action I ever got was at my annual physical with my doctor, and I couldn’t say a pap smear was particularly sexy.

  “Yeah,” I draw out slowly. “I’m good.”

  She sighed in defeat. “You’re not, but I’ll crack you eventually.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  She let it go. “You’re off tomorrow at the motel, right?”

  I popped my lips when I answered, “Yep. I get to do my laundry and finally buy food that isn’t Ramen noodles and TV dinners.”

  “Wow. You live such an exciting life,” she deadpanned.

  “Whatever. See you Wednesday?”

  We hung up and I shut my television off before walking into my bedroom. Iris was looking out for me, and I appreciated it. I didn’t live a thrilling life, and everybody knew it. Even my parents told me to go out and do something for myself.

 
But every time I tried having fun in the past, it blew up in my face at extraordinary levels.

  Staying inside like an old lady was lonely, but it was safe.

  How You Know It Won’t Work:

  He steals your favorite pair of panties

  My day off started with Mashed Potato throwing up all over the bed, which meant spending extra time doing laundry, so I could get the comforter clean. Then, after going to the basement, I discovered the only washing machine in the building was out of order, meaning I had two options: drive an hour to use my parents’ washer and dryer, or go to the laundromat next door.

  Thank god I had quarters left.

  After stuffing my bedding in my clothes hamper, I grabbed the bag of coins and slipped into my flip flops to make my way next door. Maybe I should have reconsidered walking out into public wearing black yoga pants and an oversized tee with a penguin in a pizza costume, but I’d seen what people wore in there. The sad thing was, I’d probably be on the best-dressed list.

  Tuning out the noise as I entered the building, I kicked into autopilot as I made a bee-line to some open machines in the corner. After shoving my bedding into one, and clothes in the other, I focused on dividing my coins into the machines.

  There was a group of guys howling in the opposite corner of the building, but I didn’t pay them any attention. Instead, I shoved my basket into the corner, and put my leftover coins into my purse, taking note of the time I had before the loads would be done.

  Right before I could make my escape, somebody came up behind me, and a husky voice stopped me in my tracks.

  “Didn’t get enough laundry done yesterday?”

  I turned to see Caleb with a crooked grin splashing across his lips. Today he was in a forest green tee with blue jeans that hung low and tight on his hips.

  “What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms over my chest, self-conscious over the stupid carton animal plastered on my shirt.

  “Not happy to see me?” He stuck out his bottom lip like a two-year-old who was told he couldn’t eat dirt for dinner.

  The guys in the corner, his friends I’m assuming, all laughed, watching our exchange. If they thought I was going to fall at his feet, they were wrong. I wasn’t that desperate.

  I didn’t grace him with a reply, instead, I glared at him until he answered my question.

  Sighing, he said, “I’m staying with friends in the area.”

  I gaped at him. “What?”

  Oakland wasn’t a very populated area when the university wasn’t in session. The population outside of college season was around five thousand people. It was considered a city when students poured in, adding over double the residents. It was great for the local plaza and businesses, especially the pizzerias and bars lining Main Street, but not so much for the permanent residents who liked the peaceful summers.

  Almost nobody came around and stayed unless they were here for school or work. Why would Caleb pick here of all places? He had family an hour away.

  He grinned. “Don’t look so sad, sweetheart. I mean, it isn’t like we’ll be bumping into each other often, right?”

  Based on his smirk, that was exactly what he thought. But he didn’t know me very well. I worked, came home, and slept. It didn’t give me a lot of reason to bump into him.

  I rolled my eyes. “So, what? You guys are all just hanging out in a laundromat? And Iris thinks that I’m boring.”

  His shoulders shake in a silent laugh. “I normally hang out in more exciting places,” he informed me.

  My eyes narrowed. “Like strip clubs?”

  His front teeth sunk into his bottom lip, holding off his laugh.

  He collected himself. “I actually don’t like going to strip clubs. It’s why I like women coming to me to take their clothes off.”

  My face screwed. “You employ your sister to get those women?”

  He leaned closer to me, eyes darkening into blue ink as they traveled down the length of me. “They usually come to me on a volunteer basis. I don’t need help getting women to strip for me, Paisley,” he stated, tugging on the tee I wore. A sexy smile teased his lips. “Now this little number could drive a man mad.”

  We stared at one another, me trying to figure out if he was messing with me or being serious, while he gave nothing away. It wasn’t until one of his friends caught my eye that drew me away from my silent inquiry. I shook my head when I saw him gyrating his hips, the others encouraging him.

  Caleb looked over his shoulder, snorting when he saw what the idiot was doing. Straightening his shoulders, he flipped off the group until they rioted.

  “Sorry about them,” he apologized over the noise. “I’d say they aren’t usually like that, but I’d be lying.”

  I adjusted the purse strap on my shoulder. “Doesn’t matter to me. If you don’t mind—”

  “My buddy’s girlfriend wouldn’t let him wash his shop rags in their washer,” he blurted as I turned to leave.

  My brows pinched. “O-kay.”

  He coughed into his palm, shifting on his feet. “That’s why we’re here.”

  I clicked my tongue.

  “Well bye,” I said after a moment of awkward staring. “Good luck finding a sane woman to take her clothes off for you. Doubt you’ll find one in here.”

  “You’re here,” he argued as I pushed the door open.

  I twisted around. “Don’t even waste your time thinking about it, buddy.”

  He drew his lips in, eyes slowly scoping out my body. They spent an uncomfortable amount of time on my hips. “Too late for that, sweetheart. Problem is, I know you can dance. I’m just saying, you’d be—”

  “Crazy to let you finish that sentence,” I cut him off, getting the last word. I walked out, leaving his friends hounding him over my brush off.

  Good. Maybe they’d be gone by the time I had to come back.

  I thought the coast was clear when I walked back into First Choice Cleaners. There was no loud laughter or group of men in the corner. It was just me and my things, easing the worry of having to engage Caleb.

  Or, so I thought.

  It wasn’t until I cursed aloud after realizing I was a dollar short from drying my clothes that the same pestering voice cut through the silence.

  “I didn’t think it was ladylike to swear?”

  I tipped my head back and groaned. “And I didn’t think gentlemen lurked in the shadows like total stalkers.”

  He walked toward me, not fazed by my comeback. Instead, he pulled out a dollar from his wallet and exchanged it for quarters in the machine on the wall.

  “Never said I was a gentleman,” he answered, holding out the money for me.

  I eyed him. “I’m not taking that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then I’ll owe you.”

  He huffed out a laugh. “You need to dry your clothes, and I’m here. Might as well just take the money and say, ‘Thank you, Caleb. You’re my knight in shining armor!’”

  Was he serious? Some girls probably swooned over having a hot savior, but it just made me cringe. Why couldn’t women be their own white knight? Or just badass princesses that could save themselves? Then again, I was no royalty. And the idea of armor made my boobs sweat just thinking about it.

  I studied him for a long moment, my eyes lingering to the money he offered in his palm. Just as I was about to take the quarters, he closed his palm.

  “What the hell is your deal?” I demanded.

  “Get coffee with me.”

  “Um. No.”

  “Coffee in exchange for quarters,” he propositioned. “You’re getting free stuff either way. And owing me coffee is nothing compared to owing me money.”

  His logic made absolutely no sense. “Wouldn’t I owe you both money and coffee. You’re awful at this, you know that?”

  He swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, shrugging.

  I brushed him off. “Forget it. I can just go home and grab more quarters.” Except I didn’t have any
left in my apartment, or cash I could exchange for them.

  Sigh.

  “Just take the money, Paisley.”

  “I’m not getting coffee with you.”

  “Do you not like coffee?”

  “I don’t like you!”

  And, okay, I did hate coffee. It smelled great but tasted awful. It didn’t matter how much milk, sugar, or flavoring was in it, I couldn’t tolerate it. And there were days when I worked both jobs that seriously made me wish caffeine was in my life.

  “Fine. Then food,” he bargained.

  “Caleb, there’s no point. I’m not interested.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Are you saying that you don’t like food?”

  My lips parted. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes lingered on my hips again. They were my problem area, the things I wanted to change the most about me. As much as I loved leggings, I hated wearing them in public because I felt like people stared at the way my hips were emphasized.

  I remember walking to class one day and being complimented on my ‘beautiful birthing hips’ by an old guy in a pinstripe pimp suit. Okay, he was probably a professor. But with quips like that, I bet his side job was dealing out women on street corners.

  Seriously—who told women they had nice birthing hips? It just made me want to rip my ovaries out so I’d never have kids.

  Crossing my arms on my chest, I demanded, “Are you insinuating I’m fat? Because that doesn’t make me want to get food with you.”

  Rocking back, he shook his head and looked around the room before locking eyes back on me. “You’re curvy, something that I happen to like a lot.” He leans in closer, setting his lips only a few inches away from mine. “Face it, Paisley; it’s easier to grab ahold of a curvy girl when she’s riding your coc—”

  I stepped back a few feet, and held up my hand, while feeling heat prickle my neck. “Please shut up.”

  “Have lunch with me.”

  “You called me fat,” I pointed out dryly.

  He rubbed a palm down his face. “You’re not a great listener, are you? I, in no way, called or even implied, that you’re fat. I’m saying that you like to eat, as most human beings do.”