by Louise, Tia
“I appreciate your vote of confidence, but the doors don’t fall open for all of us.” She looks away at the table. “Some of us need a little help.”
“The only doors that have opened for me are the ones I’ve tried.” My tone is slightly sharp, and our eyes meet again.
She quickly blinks down again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make assumptions.”
We sway in silence, and I can tell the song is ending. I don’t want to leave her this way.
“Forget about it.” I lighten my tone, giving her a smile.
A smile fidgets at the corners of her mouth, and she glances up at me sideways before looking away again quickly. I look over to the lead singer, wishing I could give him a signal to keep going. I’m running out of time.
“It’s been a long time since we danced together.”
She doesn’t look up, but her smile grows. “It was homecoming, first dance of the year.”
“And the last. I still can’t believe you didn’t go to prom with me. All high school romances end at the prom.”
Her nose curls. “We were not a high school romance.”
“We might’ve been. The high school quarterback, all-around hot guy who falls for the quiet, bookish future librarian. It’s the perfect setup for a movie.”
“All-around hot guy…” Her brown eyes roll adorably, and I’m glad the tension seems to have melted. “I’m not a future librarian.”
“I know.” I think about that night. “You did promise to have my back, though.”
“Until you broke the rules and kissed me.”
“It was a really good kiss. We should try it again to see if we’ve still got it.”
She steps out of my arms. “I’ve got a job to finish. Then I’m leaving Fireside.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “I’m not going to be here for long. Maybe we could pass the time together. Hang out.” I lean down to catch her eye. “What do you say, Tink?”
“Tink?”
“Tinkerbell. You remind me of her.”
“Does that make you Peter Pan, the eternal man-child?”
“I’m no child.” It comes out a bit hungrier than I intended, and her cheeks turn red so fast.
Should I say oops? I’m sure as hell not taking it back.
“I’ve got to go.”
She does it, too. She walks off, leaving me alone on the dance floor. I watch her return to the table, where a waitress in short shorts and a black tank is placing a large boat-like platter of raw fish in front of Spencer the douche.
It’s not really my style to come on strong like that. I’m not even sure where it came from. Sure, I’ve always liked Daisy, but when I was at Clemson, I pretty much focused on football and not flunking out.
When I’m around her, it’s different. It’s almost like something takes over me. She’s cute and grumpy, but she’ll talk to me even though she acts like I’m bothering her. It makes me want to bother her more.
Exhaling a laugh, I wipe my hand over my mouth and leave the floor, going straight out the exit. I’m here to visit family before I’m gone for who knows how long. She might be the one that got away, but if I’m smart, I’ll let her stay that way.
Three
Daisy
“Take pictures and send them to me when you’re done.” Spencer’s voice is impatient on the other end of the line. “I’ll run them past Miles and see what he thinks.”
“Thank you, Spence. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“You can start by not calling me Spence.”
Scout was wrong about Spencer. He’s not a douche, but he is a pill. Still, he’s a pill who can help me.
He’s also a pill who might be interested in me. It’s really hard to know for sure. Regardless, he’s never made it an issue, and I really appreciate it. He criticizes me and gives me a hard time, but it’s always about the work and my ability. It’s never about sex.
“I’m headed back to Columbia, but I’ll be in touch.”
We disconnect, and I scroll through the pictures I’ve saved on my Pinterest. I have a board for every room, and there’s only one left.
“The master suite,” I say to Cosmo. “Check it out.”
He blinks slowly and purrs loudly as I show him my ideas for the bedroom and bath, matching curtains, wallpaper, pillows, and comforters all in a minimalistic, blue lines on cream background.
“It’s very Gloria Vanderbilt, don’t you think? Grandmillennial.”
Yes, I’m the crazy cat lady talking to my aunt’s giant calico. I don’t care. Cosmo is a very good listener, even if his eyes are closed right now.
“Right.” I give his ears a scratch. “Swaggy.”
Pushing off the stairs, I trot up to the second floor and into the massive bedroom with its attached bath. I’ve already started collecting fixtures.
I found an oversized footed tub I want to place under the picture window. Jacuzzi tubs are a big draw, but it would take a major renovation for this old house, and I can make the space equally inviting.
Walking to the thick white porcelain, I kneel beside it, running my finger along the edge. The hardware hasn’t been installed, so I can’t use it yet. Still, I can imagine soaking with candles all around, bubbles… My eyes close, and I picture myself slipping into warm waters. Scout slipping in behind me, strong hands spanning my waist…
My eyes snap open. What was that? I have not fantasized about him since senior year.
Okay, that’s a lie, but I’ve felt stupid every time I did. So what if he kissed me that one time? It was only a kiss… Only the best kiss I’ve ever had.
His fingers slid across my cheek, lifting my chin so he could lean down and devour my lips. His tongue slid along mine, tasting and when the soft moan rippled from his throat, I almost burst into flames.
That was when I told him it was off. He’d wanted us to “have each other’s backs,” which to him meant pretending we were a couple. He didn’t want the pressure of everyone expecting him to settle down with a local girl, and I made fun of him for being a coward. Then I got a taste of his medicine that night at Homecoming.
From the nonstop stares to the mean girl cutting remarks, it was like all of Fireside had decided we were an item. The girls hated me, while the guys suddenly noticed me. People who’d never spoken to me before were smiling and saying Hi. It was the kiss that ended it. I knew by my response I was the one who’d get hurt in the end. I ended it because I didn’t want to be left to pick up the pieces when he did what he said, and I didn’t want all those eyes watching my every move, picking me apart, and dissecting my behavior.
Oh, and don’t forget, I was leaving Fireside, too.
Only… here I am.
My phone starts to buzz, and I sit with my back against the side of the tub. Looking at my phone, I see my dad’s name over his confused selfie that always makes me giggle.
He accidentally took a photo of himself, and it’s the funniest thing.
Shaking my head, I swipe to answer. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
“A man is interested in the Victorian chair. He’s offering cash up front. Eight fifty.”
I’m on my feet at once. “Dad! No! That chair belongs to me. I already called it.”
“This isn’t a game of shotgun, daughter. I have a business to run.” My dad has always spoken to me like an impatient college professor. “Now are you going to come get it or do I need to let this man take it?”
I dash out of the master suite and around the banister to the bedroom I occupy. It’s the same one Sly and I shared in high school, only now it’s converted to a guest room. “I’m coming now. I’ll be there in three hours.”
Tossing my phone on the bed, I strip off my pajama pants and grab a bra. It’s late May, so it’s warm enough for cutoffs and an oversized V-neck tee. I grab my cable cardigan just in case. I always seem to get sick this time of year. My aunt always says it’s allergies.
Quickly brushing my teeth, I figure I’ll grab a coffee on the road,
and just like that, I’m out the back door, moving fast and fiddling with my keys when I slam into a wall of granite.
“Oh!” I stagger back, grabbing the railing of the steps.
“Damn, are you okay?”
I think I see stars. “What the… What?”
“You dropped your keys.” It’s Scout.
He’s dressed as always in faded jeans and a tee, and I watch as he reaches down to grab my keys from the grass.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was sitting around Gran’s, and I figured I’d check on you. Make sure you’re not trying to cut your arm off again with a giant cock.”
His hair falls across his blue eyes, and an image of me reaching out, sliding it away, flashes through my brain.
This boy is nothing but trouble.
“I don’t need another cock.”
He grins, and that damn dimple appears. “You never know.”
“I know. Thanks.” I take my keys and start for the Bronco.
Scout’s right behind me. “Where you going?”
“Greenville. Dad has a chair I have to pick up today or he’s going to sell it.”
“Must be some chair. Greenville’s a three-hour drive.”
Exhaling my frustration, I nod as I open the driver’s-side door. “It is. Sorry, I can’t stand around and chat.”
“I’ll go with you.”
He jogs around the front of my vehicle, but I don’t move. “No, you won’t.”
“Why not? You can’t load a chair by yourself.”
“My dad will help me load it.”
He pulls open the passenger’s side door and climbs in. “What will you do when you get back?”
Standing beside my Bronco, I look across the bench seat at him. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t you have something to do?”
“I’m doing it. Your aunt sent me over here to help you.”
“Yesterday. She sent you to help Sly, who’s not even here, yesterday.”
“Maybe we got our wires crossed. Or she did.” He fastens his seatbelt and stretches a muscled arm across the top of the seat in my direction. “You’re wasting daylight.”
This is a mistake. I know this is a mistake. Scout Dunne could charm the pants off a donkey. Still… Dad is getting too old to move furniture.
“I’m going to regret this,” I mutter, climbing in and slamming the door. His hand grazes my shoulder, and I pull away. “You should take your arm down. It isn’t safe.”
He shoves a lock of golden-brown hair behind his ear and laughs. “You’re not afraid, are you?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” I turn the ignition, and we take off out of town.
A half-hour into the drive, the radio’s blasting “Please Mr. Please” by Olivia Newton-John, and we’re both singing at the top of our lungs.
Very badly.
Scout actually has a pretty decent falsetto, but I waver on the chord progressions.
We’re just crossing I-95 when I see a Starbucks sign. “I need coffee. Want anything?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He shifts his large body to face me, lifting a knee onto the seat. “Maybe I’ll get out and walk around.”
While I sit in the drive-through, he gets out, walking to the side of the building and stretching his arms over his head. I watch the movement of his long body, the muscles of his arms rippling as he leans side to side.
He turns, and I catch a glimpse of skin when his T-shirt rises. I see the two lines of muscle on his waist, disappearing into his jeans, and my bottom lip slides between my teeth. I’m in a haze of lust when my eyes drift higher and lock on his.
His lips curl into a smile, and it’s a slam of full-force sex appeal.
“Miss?” The voice on the loudspeaker is impatient. “Can I take your order, please?”
“Oh, shit!” I jump. “I’m sorry! I just need a tall dark roast with cream. Sorry.”
“Will that be all?”
“Yes. Yes, that will be all.”
Driving around, I pull the neck of my sweater away from my throat. How did it get so hot in here? Reaching forward, I push the button for the air-conditioner.
“A/C? Really?” Scout climbs in on the passenger’s side as if nothing happened. “It’s only seventy-five degrees.”
“I feel stuffy. Must be the humidity.”
Passing the girl my payment, I take the coffee and put it in the cup holder, focusing on the road as I get us back to the interstate. My heart is beating too fast, and I’m breathing like I just jogged up a flight of stairs, which is silly. So, so silly.
“You have a great singing voice.” Scout tilts his head, looking at me.
I’m quiet a moment, then I blink to where he’s studying me from the passenger’s side. Forcing a smile, I look back at the road. “Thanks.”
“How is it you know the freakin’ oldest Olivia Newton-John song of all time?”
“My mom was a fan.”
“No way, mine too!”
“They were probably the same age. Our moms, I mean.”
I reach for the cup, and I notice my fingers tremble. So silly.
I have seriously got to get a grip. I was never into Scout Dunne. We went to one dance together at the very beginning of senior year, and after that, we were just friends until we both graduated and went our separate ways.
“How old was she?” Genuine interest imbues his tone, and he shifts around in the seat again to face me.
“What do you mean?” Glancing over, I catch his dark brow furrowed over his eyes.
“When she had you. How old was she?”
“Oh… Twenty-eight, I guess.”
He slaps my shoulder. “Mine too. That explains it.”
“So, you grew up watching Grease?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, he belts at the top of his lungs, “You’re the one that I want…”
I start to laugh. I remember the nights when my dad would be working late, researching some artifact we didn’t care about, and Mom and I would curl up on the couch to watch whatever was on.
“I’ve got one.” He narrows his eyes like he’s being sly, but I know what he’s going to say.
We both sing it out at once. “Xanadu!”
“Now we are here…” he continues.
My stomach squeezes, and we both laugh. He grabs his phone and quickly taps something out on the screen. The song surrounds us, and we start to sing again.
I can barely breathe from laughing and singing, and I shake my head. “You’re a really good singer, too. I mean really good.”
“Thanks.” He leans forward, propping his forearms on his thighs. “I wish I was a better dancer. It seems like actors now can sing, dance… It’s like old-school Hollywood all over again.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “I get that.”
“Anyway, you said you weren’t afraid of anything. I call bullshit.” He points a finger at me. “What are you afraid of? Snakes? Rats? Water? Flying?”
My insides are fizzy, and I laugh again because I can’t help it. Ducking my chin, I answer quietly, like it’s a dark confession. “Spiders.”
“Sorry, what was that?” He leans closer.
“Spiders!” I shout.
“Yassss, thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Survey says? Spiders for the win.”
“You are so crazy. How is that for the win?”
“They made a whole movie called Arachnophobia. Tell me another fear they made into a movie.”
“Uh, hello? They made a whole genre of movies based on fear. It’s called horror.” My curls bounce around my cheeks as I look back and forth from him to the road.
“That’s just general murder-type, creepy supernatural stuff. It’s not like a specific phobia.”
“Insomnia?”
“Nice try.” He pats my shoulder. “Not a horror movie. Also not a phobia. A terrible condition, but not a phobia.”
“Sorry, Mr. I’ve Seen Every Movie Ever Made.” I laugh, glancing at the sign and realizing we’
re approaching Greenville. “I can’t believe we’re almost there.”
“Lead foot.”
“I wasn’t!” My voice goes high, and I check my speed.
I haven’t been speeding. We’ve simply been chatting the whole way, singing at the top of our lungs, and getting to know each other better. My brow furrows as I glance over at him looking out the window at the passing scenery.
I can’t do this. I can’t fall for him. I’m not the quiet, bookish librarian-type who falls for the superhot, all-American football star.
At least I never was before.
Four
Scout
When J.R. and I were kids, and it was too rainy or cold for us to play outside, our dad would park us in front of the television to watch Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. We watched it a lot.
After a while, my brother got pretty bored, but I could watch it a hundred times and never be bored. I fucking loved that movie. I wanted to be the young Indiana Jones so bad, finding lost treasures, riding horses, running away from bad guys across the tops of trains, falling in a vat of snakes…
Daisy’s dad is exactly like Sean Connery in those movies. He barely even looks up when we enter his shop, a crowded, window-lined showroom filled to the brim with antiques.
“I was giving you one more hour,” he growls from behind a desk in a back office.
He’s blocked from our view by a wall of small boxes. Scattered around them is old shit I imagine must be worth something. Several funny little ceramic cherubs and stacks of Pokémon cards are on the tables. He has a few old watches and a broken camera that looks like it came out of that first Wonder Woman movie.
“Are you serious?” Daisy’s tone is sharper than I’ve ever heard. “I spoke with you on the phone exactly three hours ago and said I was on my way.”
The man looks up at her with the same deep brown eyes as hers. “I wasn’t holding you to it, Daughter. If you’d decided you didn’t want it, I wasn’t going to be out a sale.”
