“That’s not why I came to talk to you.” Changing the subject, I’m good at that.
“Can I get you two anything else?” the waitress asks before Reese can ask me why I brought him here.
“Yeah, can we get a fried ice cream?” Fuck it. I could care less about diving right about now. “And don’t bother bringing two spoons. Sally over here thinks it will stick to her hips.”
Chuckling, the waitress nods her head and takes off to fulfill my order, leaving a scowling Reese alone with me.
“What?” I ask with a smirk that I can’t seem to hide.
“Just fucking wait, asshole. You’ll get yours.”
“Ooo, I’m shaking in my boots,” I deadpan. I take a quick sip of my water and say, “Now can we please get to the reason why I asked you here?”
“Please, by all means, entertain me with your melodramatic diatribe.”
Yikes, I might have pissed him off a little too much.
“Uh, how’s production?” It takes all but two seconds for Reese to see right through me, I know this by the way he throws his head back and laughs deep from the pit of his stomach, drawing attention from everyone around us.
“Oh fuck,” he chuckles out.
“What’s the big deal?” Keep things cool and casual, that’s my motto, then he won’t see right through me.
“You want to know about Melony. Has she been shutting you out? I told you she wouldn’t budge.”
“I don’t want to know about Melony,” I lie. “I was actually curious about the whole reality show concept. Thinking about getting myself one of those shows.”
Reese shakes his head and pats his mouth clean with his napkin. “You’re so fucking demented, man. Just come out and say it.”
Just wanting answers at this point, I give in. “Fine, how’s Melony? She’s still alive, right? She hasn’t been answering any of my calls or texts, and it’s driving me fucking insane.”
Studying me, Reese asks, “Have you ever heard of a stage-five clinger?” I nod my head. “Dude, look in a mirror.”
“I’m not a stage-five clinger,” I protest. “Fuck, I just . . .” I pause and think about my actions. Calls, voicemails, texts, stalking her apartment. Running my hands over my face, I say, “Shit, I’m a stage-five clinger.”
Another uproarious laugh erupts from Reese, setting my irritation at an all-time high. “Glad you can see it that way.”
“Fuck you. Just tell me if you’ve seen her.”
“Yesterday,” Reese answers just as the waitress sets my dessert in front of me. The fried dairy filters through my nose, instantly relaxing me.
Fucking sugar. It’s all I need in this world. That and Melony.
Once my stomach stops growling, my mind registers what Reese said. “You saw her yesterday?”
He nods, eyeing my dessert. Look all you want, fucker, you’re not getting any.
“Yeah, she was with Paisley.”
“And . . .” I motion for him to continue with my spoon in my hand.
“And what?” He shrugs. “She was there.”
“Fuck, you’re infuriating. Did she say anything about me?”
“Do I look like the town gossip? I wasn’t really paying attention. I was more focused on the way Paisley’s shorts looked on her. She has some fine-as-fuck legs.”
Putting a giant scoop of ice cream in my mouth, I say, “You’re useless.”
Reese sits still for a second and then taps the side of his head with his index finger, as if a light bulb just popped up. “You know, now that I think about it . . .”
I know that look. He wants something. It’s never easy with this fuckhead.
“What’s it going to take?” I ask, eying him with disdain.
He nods at my bowl. “Half of your dessert.”
“Half? Are you fucking crazy? Three spoons, that’s it.”
“Four,” he counters and licks his lips.
“What happened to healthy eating and making sure you’re in top form and all that bullshit?”
He shrugs. “Eh, it’s my last Olympics, I can cut myself a break. Now, four spoonfuls or no information.”
“How do I know what you’re going to say is worth four spoonfuls?”
“Valid point. How about I tell you what I heard and then you can judge the amount of spoons I get, but you can’t go any lower than two?”
Bartering, I like it.
“No lower than two, no higher than four.”
Reese holds his hands up. “Hey, if you want to go higher than four, that’s your deal. Who knows maybe what I have to say is worth five spoons.”
“Doubtful, but you have a deal. Spill it.”
Satisfied with his deal, he says, “While staring at Paisley’s legs, I might have heard Paisley talking to Melony about you.” With spoon in hand, he reaches for my dessert, which I quickly hide from him.
“Are you insane? You’re not getting anything for that information. That’s not even worth mentioning.”
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“Then finish, asshole, because this ice cream is starting to melt.”
Sighing, he runs his hand over his beard as if he’s trying to decide how to convey the information he has for me. “How much are you set on Melony?”
“Very set.” There is more conviction in my voice than ever.
“Well, you might be in for a world of hurt because she made it quite clear that she doesn’t ever plan on being in a relationship.”
“With me?” I ask, feeling slightly disheartened.
“No, with anyone. Ever.” Eyeing the bowl, Reese asks, “Can I have ice cream now?”
Deflated, I push the bowl toward him and tell him to finish it.
I knew she didn’t want to be in a relationship, but for her to confirm it to Paisley, that doesn’t settle well with me. Telling a girlfriend is very different to “fobbing me off.”
Okay, so she doesn’t do relationships, but there has to be a reason. Did some jackass cheat on her? I find that hard to believe given how gorgeous, smart, and strong she is, but guys can be dicks.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Reese asks, ice cream dripping in his beard.
“I just don’t get it. Why does she not want a relationship? She’s the first woman I’ve ever come across that’s been so incredibly against romance, love, and relationships. There has to be something I’m not seeing.”
Reese settles back in his chair, ice cream still left in the bowl. I’m slightly surprised, as I thought he was going to take the whole thing down. “Dude, you know I’m always honest with you. I like Melony a lot, I think she’s a cool chick, but I don’t know if she’s worth your time. I don’t think she’s changing her mind. If you were any other guy, I would say have some fun. But I know you. You become attached and I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”
“It’s too fucking late,” I huff out. “I’m already attached. Shit.” Running my hands over my face, I try to come up with some sort of explanation but nothing comes to mind. “You know, it would be so much easier to toss in the towel with her if her eyes weren’t so expressive.”
“What do you mean? Do you think she likes you?”
“I do.” I nod. “I just think she’s too stubborn and scared to give in to what she’s feeling. We have moments where she hands over her trust, where she melts into me and those moments, fuck, they are perfect. But that’s all they are, moments. They are quickly washed away once her brain kicks in. There is something blocking her from going all in.” Getting up, I grab my sunglasses and phone off the table and push my chair in. “And I’m going to fucking find out what it is.”
I take off toward the door as I hear Reese call out, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for the check just like every other time.”
Chapter Sixteen
MELONY
Hollis: Sorry about my phone call last night. Hope I didn’t wake you, just had a shitty sleep and it would have been nice to hear your voice.
Hollis: Fo
r future references, maybe you can change your voicemail so Mrs. Robot doesn’t tell me to leave a message but instead your beautiful voice does.
Hollis: I saw a cloud in the sky today that I swear looked like a penis going into a vagina. It made me think of you . . . you know, when you dry-humped me in your entryway.
Hollis: Remember the time I made you come just from touching your perfect little tit?
Hollis: I do. I can still hear your sexy moan. Now if only I knew how wet you were that night.
Hollis: Don’t want to talk about our sexual encounters? Okay, how about the time I pumped my cock in front of you. From the look in your eyes, I know you wanted your lips on my dick. Oh wait, was that sexual? Shit.
Hollis: I tripped over a barbell in the weight room today and fell face first into a stack of towels. I wished it was your breasts that caught me instead.
Hollis: Is it weird that I eat spinach and ketchup together?
Hollis: Did you watch Rollin’ in the Bacon last night? I didn’t but Holly keeps talking about how absurd Bellini is. I fear for your life. Please keep my baby safe.
Hollis: Silent treatment, I like it. Maybe I can silence you with my cock sometime soon.
Hollis: Don’t do relationships, huh? Why? What happened?
Hollis: My guess, someone hurt you and you’re too scared to put yourself out there again. Am I right?
Hollis: One thing you need to know about me, Melony, I’m the real thing. I don’t fuck around and I sure as shit don’t plan on ever leaving you alone, so you can either talk to me or we can continue to play this cat and mouse game. I know you like me, I know you want me, so it’s time we stop fucking around and we have a conversation.
It’s time we have a conversation . . .
Those words keep playing over and over in my head as my mom coos about what a great time she’s having being pampered. The nail salon we went to was having a special on manis and pedis. Kind of like a buy one get one free, so of course we indulged.
Because I’m a glutton for punishment, while my toes are being painted and finished up, I scroll through the countless texts Hollis has sent me over the last few days. I’ve read them over and over but never reply. Some of them make the cold exterior I’ve placed around my heart melt just slightly, and some turn me into a rabid beast needing release from the sexual frustration I’m feeling.
But the last ones . . . those terrify me.
He wants to have a conversation. I’m pretty sure I know how that’s going to go. He’s going to want to dig into my past and get to the root of my “problem.” That’s the last thing I want to do. I don’t want to talk about my dad with Hollis, or with anyone for that matter.
For the past few days I’ve been able to avoid him by parking in another lot and walking through multiple apartment complexes, through the back entryway of my building to get up to my apartment. I’ve also kept to my bedroom, making sure to use headphones when watching Netflix on my computer and keeping my lights dim. Yep, I’m completely hiding out, and to be honest, I’m exhausted. Is this how I really want to live my life?
I haven’t been able to enjoy the beach like I want to, or go running, or even just lounge in my living room because I’ve been too nervous Hollis would come knock on my door.
But what I’ve been most terrified about is giving in, of opening that door and letting him in, only to cry into his arms and let him see all my scars.
“Oh, that’s a beautiful shade of pink, sweetie,” my mom praises, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s a little bright for me but you sure can pull it off.”
Nail polish color to my mom is white with a droplet of color so you can barely see what shade it is. Today, I believe she chose peach, that’s what it looks like at least. Luckily, my mom has wonderful skin color that makes the light shade pop.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Laughing, she holds her stomach and says, “Did you hear that? My stomach has been grumbling this whole time.”
“Mine too.” I smile, trying to ignore the anxiety rolling through me. There is so much going on inside me with Hollis and the giant elephant in the room, the man my mom went to dinner with. Hell, I can’t ask, I know I should, but it terrifies me to see the possibility of my mom getting hurt again. Clearing my throat, I ask, “Where do you want to go after this for lunch? Anywhere you want.”
“I was thinking maybe we could call and get some of that Chinese we had when we moved you in. I’ve been craving it ever since I left your place. It would be nice to eat out on your balcony that overlooks the ocean.”
“Sounds like a plan. We can call in our order once we leave, that way it should be there when we arrive home.”
“Wonderful. And let’s not forget to order egg rolls this time.”
“Noted.” I chuckle.
Once we pay, we carefully walk out to the sidewalk, trying to not mess up our freshly painted nails, although, thankfully our fingernails were done first. I make the call to the Chinese restaurant, being sure to add egg rolls to the order and drive toward my apartment.
“This was just what I needed,” my mom breaks the silence between us on our walk home. “It was a stressful week at work, a lot of puke to clean up. I made sure to wear gloves and a mask because whatever the family has I don’t want to catch while cleaning it up. I also drank some orange juice with an Emergen-C mixed in just to be sure.”
“That sounds terrible.” And gross. I really don’t do puke at all. Regurgitated food mixed with stomach acid, no thank you.
“It was, but I drove up the coast this morning to get to you. It took a little longer but it was refreshing, and I put the top down so the wind was in my hair. Kind of felt like an old-school Hollywood starlet.”
My mom has a 1990 red Mustang convertible that she is in love with. Last year she traded her old broken-down Jeep for a used Mustang in mint condition and couldn’t be happier. It’s the small things that make her happy. And despite the old model, she still thinks it’s “one classy car.”
“Sounds like a good drive. Did you listen to Garth Brooks on your way up?”
“You know I did. I can’t believe he’s back on tour after so many years taking time off. I’ve been saving my money so I can go to a concert. I know it’s not plausible this year but maybe next year he’ll come back in the area. I’m sure he’s not as energetic as when he was younger but it would still be such a treasure to see him perform.”
“I agree. Maybe I can see if there are any cheap tickets on StubHub. Even if we’re in the rafters, we could still go see him.”
“No, no, no,” my mom says, waving at me. “Save your money, sweetheart. You want to keep decorating that apartment of yours.” Looking out to the ocean, she takes a deep breath. “I’m really proud of you. Living so close to the ocean like you always wanted, supporting yourself, but I do wonder if you are happy.”
She glances in my direction, gauging my reaction. Why do parents do this? Try to have meaningful conversations with you when it’s the last thing you want to do. All I wanted was a nice relaxing afternoon spent with my mom, but apparently she has a different idea of what our time together should be spent doing.
“I’m happy, Mom.”
“But are you lonely? Don’t you want a boyfriend?”
Turning into the opening of my apartment complex, I say, “I don’t need a man in my life to feel fulfilled. I’m fine.”
“Fine is not what I want for you. Fine is subpar. I want you over the moon, overjoyed and loving life. You might say you’re good, but I can see in your eyes that you’re not.”
“I’m just tired, Mom.”
Out of everyone to talk to, she is the one I go to the most whenever I have a problem, but this time, she’s the last person I want to talk to. She’ll tell me to stop projecting my dad onto every man I meet and to give someone a chance, to fall in love, to trust. But that’s the last thing I want to do.
I don’t . . .
Fuck, I don’t want to find out I’m not enough again.
“I can see you’re not in the mood to talk about this. That’s okay,” she says while walking next to me to my apartment. “I would like to have a nice rest of an afternoon with you.”
“I would like that too, Mom.” Opening my apartment, I let her in and go to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Do you have those flavored sparking waters I like?”
“Of course.” The doorbell rings; Chinese food is here. “Mom, can you get that? Cash is in my wallet.”
“Sure, sweetie. Grab me a strawberry kiwi.”
It’s the only kind I buy whenever my mom comes to visit because I know she’s obsessed with it and she’s too cheap to buy herself such a “luxury.” She drinks water from the tap and that’s it. Kind of depressing so I always make sure to have her favorite sparkling water on hand.
“Oh my goodness, you’re not here to deliver us Chinese food, are you?” my mom says from the entryway.
What is she talking about?
Turning the corner, her drink in my hand, I see her with her hands clasped in front of her chest . . . and Hollis standing in front of her.
“You’re Hollis Knightly, the Olympic diver. Oh my goodness. Are you taking donations for your road to Rio?”
“No.” Hollis chuckles, eyeing me from over my mom’s head. He towers over her. He’s smiling but when he makes eye contact with me, his pupils go dark, and I know he’s not happy. Shit, could this timing be any worse? “I’m here to see Melony.”
“You’re here to see my daughter?” Turning to me, she gives me a confused look.
“Daughter? Wow, you two look like you could be sisters.”
So fucking cheesy, but my mom eats up the compliment like it’s the Chinese food she’s been craving.
“Uh, is this apartment 2D?” a teenage voice speaks up, holding a big brown bag of takeout.
“It is,” Hollis says, taking hold of the bag himself. “Let me get this, bro.” Not even asking how much it is, Hollis grabs a few twenties from his wallet and hands it to the boy who looks more than pleased.
“Gee, thanks man. Hey,” the boy points, “you’re Hollis Knightly.”