She waves the paper around in front of me until I drop my bag and take it.
Zayden's cat immediately climbs up on the green canvas and starts scratching his nails while I roll my eyes at his rainbow sweater. It says Go Gay! on the back which is kind of funny, but … a cat in a sweater? Come on. Never gets less ridiculous.
“This is my first one hundred ever,” Brooke states proudly, copying me by flicking her dark hair over one shoulder. She gets the gesture down perfectly, the backhanded sweep that I've been perfecting since I was her age.
I smile and use my foot to detach Hubert from my bag.
“This is awesome, Brooke,” I say, reaching my palm up to give her a high five. I bend down to give my niece a big hug, shoving Dodger away with my hand. If I couldn't literally see that the dog has no balls, I would never believe he was fixed. What's wrong with him? Why does he always hump everything?
I pull back with a smile and stand up, noticing that Zay's got a tortilla chip halfway hanging out of his mouth, a bowl of grapes in his outstretched hand.
“You want some?” he mumbles around the chip, clearly trying to make peace. I give him a half-smile for whatever he did to encourage my niece to behave better in class, popping a purple orb into my mouth and chewing it slowly.
“I ate out with Tinley,” I say, glad that today's hangout session had little to nothing to do with Zayden. There was one brief moment where Tinley started to bring him up, but I changed the subject. Doubt she even noticed I was doing it. “But thanks.”
Zayden uses his tongue to pull the chip the rest of the way into his mouth and for whatever reason, I find that sexy as hell.
I glance away sharply which is dumb. There's no need for all of this drama, right? If I want to keep sleeping with him while he's here, he's made it perfectly clear that he's open to it.
“I'm going to start getting ready,” I say as I move away and head up the stairs, taking them two at a time until I'm alone in my room. Part of me wishes Zayden would follow me up here, but then I know that's impossible. The kids are all here, and they're all awake, and I stayed out long enough that I don't really have time to do much before work.
Work.
Ugh.
Having a few days off was almost cruel. Faced with the reality of going back to the Top Hat, I feel nauseous. It's just not the place for me. I feel silly thinking that because, really, who is it the place for? But I know that each night I dance there, a little piece of me will crack and break.
And I've never been good at repairing fractures in my heart.
“Stop it, Brooke,” I say as I slap my hands against my cheeks and shake myself out. This is ridiculous, sitting up here and fretting over a guy I've known for like, two weeks. So stupid.
I focus on picking out clothes for tonight, dropping the stack on the bed and heading into the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. Even though I leave my bedroom door unlocked, Zayden doesn't come up to see me like I secretly hoped he would.
I end up downstairs in my trench coat an hour early to find the kids wrapped around the table, elbows leaning against the wood as they watch Zayden play with one of those tornado-in-a-bottle things, with the two plastic soda liter bottles taped together. I vaguely remember making one in fifth grade, and it puts a smile on my face.
“Told ya I was a storm magician,” Zayden says proudly as he stands up and lets the water swirl from one bottle into the other, a big grin stretched across his mouth as Kinzie narrows her eyes on him and then grudgingly leans in to watch the spectacle.
I smile and let myself slip out the front door before anyone can see me. I've had about enough questions about my “fancy waitressing job”, thank you.
“Hey.”
I pause with my hand on the car door, a little thrill licking down my spine as I listen to Zay's boots move up behind me. He gets close—too close, but what's new about that—and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“You sure you're alright? I wouldn't want you to go to work feeling … I don't know, however it is that you feel.” I glance back at him and damn, but he's pretty. I suck in a breath and pretend like his looks have no effect on me, like the love and care he puts into these kids has no effect.
“How I feel?” I ask, not entirely sure if even I'm aware of the answer to that question. “Maybe it's not me that has a problem, Zay? Maybe you're the one that needs to check into his feelings. You date girls you don't like, and you tell girls you do like that relationships don't make any sense. I mean, unless you're lying about the whole liking me part of that equation, then I think it's you that has the problem.”