Co-WRECKER

  It was blissful . . . up until this moment.

  Rather than listening to me, he drives into the complex, but instead or turning right, he turns left and finds an empty parking spot next to a dumpster. He puts his truck in park and sighs, leaning back on his seat.

  Without looking at me, he says, “How’s this? Far away enough?” The words come out harshly.

  “You’re mad,” I state, wondering what he must think about my inability to lie to Smilly about whatever is going on between us.

  “What? About being your dirty little secret?”

  Turning to him, I press my hand against his cheek. “You’re not my dirty little secret, Andrew.”

  “Huh, could have fooled me.” He’s mad, but he’s not really good at being mad. Perhaps it’s because he’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met, which indicates I’m the biggest bitch in the world.

  Removing my hand, I say, “I’m sorry, Andrew. Things are complicated.”

  “I could tell.” He rubs his hand over his face and stares out the window. “You’re an interesting one to calculate, Sadie. You have an almost impenetrable wall that makes it difficult as fuck to get to know you. But when I do break through that battled armor you wear, I’ve learned you’re incredibly sweet. You show humility when you’re wrong, but can also be more stubborn than a mule. You’re loyal to your friends and have such a heart for them, but you refuse to let anyone else into your orbit.” He turns toward me, hands in his lap. “There is something dark in your eyes, a story to your heart that you’re hiding and no matter how much I open up to you, you ensure our conversations about you are light and barely skim the surface.” Now resting his head against the back of his seat, I watch his throat contract as he says, “I want to know you, Sadie. Every inch of you, but you’re going to have to cut me some slack somewhere. If there is something in your life that’s holding you back from telling people about whatever we have, that’s fine, but you’re going to have to open up about something else. There are only so many secrets I can take.”

  Open up about something else? What would that even be? My mom and her multiple stints in jail? Maybe about how I dropped out of Cornell. Or the man Andrew thinks is amazing actually impregnated me. Or maybe I could tell him about my miscarriage. Yeah, those all seem like winning topics.

  This isn’t going to work. He wants something from me I can’t give him. I wanted this to be light and joyful. I wanted him to distract me from the pain I’ve been carrying. I wanted to soak in every inch of his innocent fun, but he wants more. He wants answers, and I can’t give him that.

  A nauseous churning feeling starts grinding my stomach, and my hands start to shake from what I’m about to say. Glancing up at him, knowing I need to make eye contact when I say this, I give him my full attention. “I can’t do that, Andrew.”

  He doesn’t look at me, his head still leaning against the headrest. “Can’t, Sadie, or won’t?”

  “Both.” I cringe, hating myself right now.

  He presses his lips together and nods. “Okay, so what do you want? A quick fuck when you’re available?”

  “No.” Now I’m wringing my hands together. Why does this have to be so hard? “I just . . .” Tears start to prick my eyes, and I will them not to fall. Do not cry in front of this man. “I . . .” A lone drop coats my face and I immediately loathe myself. “I wanted to escape.”

  He must have noticed the anguish in my voice because he turns toward me. The pinch in his brow eases and is replaced by concern when he sees the determined tears now falling from my eyes.

  “Christ,” he mutters right before he pulls me closer so he can wrap his arms around me.

  “This hasn’t been the easiest year so far for me,” I admit. “And then I met you. You’ve helped me forget. I just want to forget, Andrew.”

  “Forget what, Sadie? Give me something. Make this thing between us more than just sex.”

  Make this more than just sex? Is that how he feels? It might have started off with an attraction for one another but it already feels more than that to me. He’s more than an escape from my crappy reality. I don’t want to lose him, lose this joyful outlet I finally have in my life, so I offer him something . . . something small.

  “My mom.” My breath is heavy as I speak, my nerves spiking. I hate talking about this, but it’s the less relevant issue in my life. It’s stale, yet still affects me on a day-to-day basis. If I’m honest, especially in my relationships. “She is a shitty person. She destroyed our family, put a black mark on our last name, and turned us into the Scarlet Letter in our small town. I won’t bore you with details about her time in jail, but I will tell you she’s the reason I have such a hard time trusting people. She’s the reason I don’t let anyone new into my world. She’s why I’m so fucked up and having a hell of a time communicating with you.” I bite the side of my cheek, waiting on his response. I feel so embarrassed, but knowing Andrew, I don’t think he’ll judge me for her antics.

  “Okay.” He presses his lips against my head while one of his hands rubs my back. “Okay,” he repeats, calming me immediately. He doesn’t ask for more detail. He takes a deep breath, and somehow that gives me much-needed air as well. “You want to forget? We can do that, we can forget together.”

  “Really?” I feel this is too good to be true.

  “Yes. I understand the need for a distraction, so let’s distract each other.”

  “You’re okay with that? You’re okay with keeping things between us quiet?”

  “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it.” The tense set in his jaw gives that away. “But you have to promise me something.”

  “What’s that?” I ask, wondering what his stipulation will be. No matter what it is, I should probably grant it since he’s being so understanding.

  “When you’re with me, you’re with me and no one else. I don’t share.” Chuckling a little, he adds, “I know my dad thought I was some kind of male gigolo at my last school, but contrary to the cannon cock rumors, I’m a one-woman man. I require the same type of monogamy from you, even though it’s your college years, and you should be exploring.” He says that last bit in jest, but I can’t seem to find the humor. Not only am I not a college student, but I currently have plans with Tucker on Saturday night. Why did I say yes to that?

  It’s just between friends. We’re only going to talk, that’s it.

  “That’s the only thing I ask from you, Sadie. Can you promise me that?”

  Knowing I only want to be with Andrew, I nod. “I can do that.”

  “Good.” Gently, he places a kiss on my forehead and turns back to the steering wheel. Nodding toward the door, he says, “Now get out of here. Since my second dessert has been canceled, I want to dig into my Black Forest cake and do it in the privacy of my own home, wearing nothing but my DNA pajama pants.”

  Tears are replaced with a small smile. That he does that so easily, changes my mood in the matter of seconds, makes me want to climb him and keep him forever.

  But then I’m hit with self-doubt. Would he still bother to make me laugh if he knew the real me?

  Probably not, but I’m not going to worry about that right now because I have Andrew, even if it’s just for the summer. I have him for now.

  I take a chance and lean over to his side of the cab where I place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” And I mean it. I want to show him how thankful I really am, but that’s not going to happen in the cab of his truck near my apartment.

  With a side smile crossing his lips, he says his goodbyes and I let myself out of the truck. I don’t bother looking back, because if I did, I may run back and fling myself at him. I don’t think that would be appropriate right now. I process how we ended the night after a rather heavy conversation, and in true Andrew fashion, a light kiss good night was the perfect way to say goodbye.

  It takes me a few seconds to reach the apartment and when I open the door, I’m greeted by Smilly sitting in her underwear and a tank top, chowing down o
n a bag of Doritos and watching Grey’s Anatomy, just like she said she’d do.

  “You’re home.” She doesn’t even bother looking away from the TV. “Funny how you did that.”

  “Did what?” I ask, setting my purse down.

  “Got home from your aunt and uncle’s when your car was here.”

  Oh fuck. I forgot about that.

  Thinking quickly, I say, “My aunt swung by after work to pick me up and Uncle T just dropped me off. Convenient for him, because he’s running by the ice cream shack now.”

  Seriously, I need to stop lying; it’s becoming second nature to me.

  “Oh, that makes sense.” The tension in her voice eases. “So what important responsibility things did they want to talk to you about?”

  Not even batting an eyelash, I say, “Going back to school.” They have talked to me about it before. They’re the only ones beside my friends who know about the baby and school. They’ve provided a pretty stable foundation for me, so I knew they’d help me figure things out.

  “Figured as much. Hey, at least you got pizza bites out of it all.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “There’s always a positive side of things.”

  But in my case, instead of getting pizza bites, I was able to snag a few more weeks with Andrew. The sad thing I’m very aware of? I really, really don’t deserve him.

  “I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m tired.”

  “Okay, want me to tuck you in when I go to bed?”

  “No.” I chuckle. “It’s not necessary.”

  “Suit yourself.” She pops another chip in her mouth and then says, “Take it off, McSteamy!”

  Can’t blame the girl. McSteamy in his prime is one impressive piece of man.

  When I reach our bedroom, I sit on my bed and pull out my phone. I have this need to text Andrew, to find reassurance in the bond we’ve formed, and to apologize for being so evasive with him.

  Sadie: Thank you so much for tonight. I think I forgot to say that in the midst of our conversation. I had an amazing time, Andrew. You always know how to put a smile on my face. P.S. I owe you dessert.

  It isn’t until I’m resting in bed, about to drift off to sleep that I get a text back from him.

  Andrew: I’ll take you any way I can get you right now. Just keep smiling and laughing, baby. Oh and yeah, you owe me a dessert for sure, pussy à la mode. I’ll bring the ice cream, you bring the goods. Night, beautiful.

  A burning ache takes root in my chest. Night, beautiful. He is way too good for me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ANDREW

  Ding, ding, ding, ding.

  I sit ram-rod straight in bed, one hand hitting the wall next to me as I look around. Blind as a bat, I stumble while reaching for my glasses as the incessant dinging keeps sounding off.

  “What the fuck?” I mumble groan, finally putting my glasses on.

  I press the home button on my phone and read the time. Seven thirty. Rubbing my face, I try to understand what’s happening.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  “Christ.” I whip the covers off me and place my feet on the cold hardwood floor. Even in the summer, these floors get cold. Note to self: get slippers for winter. Reaching into my dresser, which is right next to my bed, I snag a pair of shorts and throw them on over my boxer briefs.

  I take a second to gather myself and then look around. Where is that sound coming from? When I step out of my room, the sound grows stronger. The doorbell.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Moving down the creaky stairs, I make promises to myself. “If this is a solicitor, I swear I’m going to do it. Man or woman, I’m punting the fuck out of their crotch.”

  Cocking my foot back, ready for the unleashing of one epic booting to the sex-junk, I unlock the deadbolt and swing the door open to find Sadie standing on the other side, finger perched at the doorbell, coffee and a pastry box in the other hand, and a wicked smile on her face. I let out a long, tortured breath and bow my head.

  And here I was about to cunt-punt her to the next street over.

  “Morning, sunshine.” What the hell is with the cheery attitude? Did Mary Poppins crawl up her ass in the middle of the night and offer her a spoonful of sugar?

  I rub my eyebrow with my palm, skewing my glasses for a second and ask, “Uh, what are you doing here?”

  “I brought you breakfast. Can I come in?”

  “Sure, yeah.” I stumble trying to open the screen door and hold it wide for her as she walks in, giving me a once-over before stepping in.

  Once inside, she turns to me and asks, “Shall we eat in your room or in the dining room?”

  I glance over at the makeshift dining room, which is made up of a beer pong table and two fold-out chairs—I don’t live with the most decorative girls—and think my room has got to be a better option.

  “Let’s go to my room. Should I grab napkins and plates?”

  “Probably. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  We part ways, her going to the left, me going to the right, but that doesn’t stop me from checking her out as she starts her way up my stairs. She’s wearing denim shorts that ride high enough to make my mouth water, brown sandals, and a white lace tank top with just enough of a neckline to remind me what she has hidden underneath. No one should look that good this early in the morning, especially when visiting with pastry delights. I’m one lucky fucker.

  Shaking my head, and telling my dick to crawl inside itself and not get happy just from the mere sight of her, I stock up on napkins and plates and then sprint up the stairs.

  I’m actually surprised to see Sadie this morning, not because she seems like the type that would stab people in the early hour of the days if woken up too soon, but because of our conversation last night.

  I was moments away from ending it all, of saying it wasn’t worth it, but then I looked into those tortured eyes of hers again and couldn’t let go. I grasped on to her once more. There is something somber, almost bleak in her eyes, like she has no hope left in her. And that startles me. She seems to have a lot going for her, especially since she’s going to Cornell.

  And then she cried. Fuck, I was destroyed after that. There was no bouncing back from there. When I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home, I had zero expectations of what was going to happen next, and then she text me. I saw the message when in bed, causing me to fall asleep with a margin of hope. Now, with her in my room, breakfast in hand, confidence in our future is blossoming. I just hope she doesn’t go running scared, because from what I know so far, I like her. From what I see in her. I just want to get to know this woman even more. I want to know what makes her heart beat, what makes her skin tingle with excitement, what helps her make strides forward every day. I’m desperate to learn more, and I’m only hoping she’ll give me the chance to find out.

  When I cross the doorway of my bedroom, Sadie has made my bed—that was quick—and is sitting on it, legs crossed, coffee held out to me, and a smile on her face. And it’s true. Some Disney character crawled up her ass and put her in this mood. I just hope she doesn’t have to have some sort of bibbidi-bobbidi-boo to get them out. Although, a Fantasia-like crap sounds magical.

  “Here you go,” she says, gesturing for me to take the coffee.

  Eying her skeptically, I take the lid off and look inside. “You’re awfully eager for me to drink this, did you poison it? Maybe slip in some kind of sleepy-time drug so you can take advantage of cannon cock?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Please, I don’t need to drug you to get you to pull your pants down. One flick of my eyes at your crotch and you’ll be stripping faster than a Roadrunner computer can calculate an equation.”

  Er . . .

  What?

  Computer?

  Did she just reference the world’s fastest computer created by IBM?

  Oh, fuck me.

  If I were a cartoon character, my dick would have just poked her eye out in excitement.

  “Surprised?” She raises an eye
brow at me and casually sips her coffee as she leans back on my bed, one of her hands propping her up.

  Garble, garble, gook. That’s all my brain can process. This is what my tongue is trying to say: jakdhef, hnnnnng.

  “Don’t be. I know a thing or two about your precious friends you tap your fingers across on a nightly basis, I just don’t flaunt my understanding like you do.”

  Still stunned, I try to formulate some kind of sentence. “Tron!” I shout, startling her. Good job, man.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What was your favorite part of Tron? Was it when he was first scooped up in the hardware, met by men in black and orange neon suits? Because, fuck, that sequence was unforgettable. If I could, I would take one day to explore a motherboard like that, being inside a computer. Think about all the things we could experience, being up close and personal with the inner workings of it all.”

  Her mouth is parted open in confusion, her brow knitted together, and a what the fuck did I get myself into thought stretching across her beautiful face.

  Laughing nervously, I nod at the box. “Uh, what did you bring?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m going to ignore that last part. I don’t even know what Tron is.”

  Immediate deflation of boner. How could she not know Tron? Insert whiny emoji here. Tron is one of the greatest movies of all time right behind Star Wars, Star Trek, any Marvel Comics movie—most importantly Guardians of the Galaxy, ET—because aliens, hello—Avatar, and Titanic. Can we take a moment of silence for Jack? That rotten, horse-faced Rose could have inched to the side to make room for him. You can’t tell me there wasn’t enough room on that door for a scrawny Leonardo DiCaprio to hang on. And even better, they could have spooned, created body heat, and saved each other. But nooo, horse-faced whore was too damn selfish.