I ended up squirting Dex right in the face.
He winced hard, grunted and turned away. I swear it was an accident but it was a perfect one. I burst into giggles.
He wiped his watering eyes and stepped backward.
“I guess I deserved that,” he said, blinking rapidly at me. “What’s in this, pure alcohol? No wonder it calms you down.”
He came forward again and rested his hand on my shoulder. I felt that warm current flowing between us.
“Look, kiddo, I saved your ass,” he grimaced, wiping away a tear.
“It’s a pretty big ass.”
The smile came easily to his lips, his eyes red but dancing. “We both know how I feel about your ass.”
Ah, yes. He had grabbed it while we were slow dancing at the bar in Red Fox. It was the first time anyone had complimented my bubble butt. Well, anyone of importance, that is. And just like that I was starting to get inappropriate thoughts, images and feelings in my head, swimming around in a heady circle.
And the reality, that he was in my bedroom, standing close to me, his hand on my shoulder, wasn’t helping matters either. I became aware that I hadn’t said anything and the silence was getting awkward.
I cleared my throat. “I’m thankful you saved my ass. I really am.”
He squeezed my shoulder. I stared up at his face, his strong jaw and expressively wide mouth flanked by his barely there ‘stache, his low, dark brow that sheltered those all–knowing eyes that shined like polished coffee, the way his black hair flopped lazily across his handsome forehead. Wow. Thoughts like that weren’t helping the awkwardness either.
He’s your partner you idiot, I told myself. I broke my study of him and focused on the rescue spray in my hands. “So we’re still on for this weekend?”
With his hand still on my shoulder he said, “How about right now?”
“What?”
“How fast can you pack?”
“Sorry, you didn’t answer my ‘what?’” I wasn’t supposed to be ready until Friday.
Finally he took his hand off of me. My shoulder felt cold and exposed without his comforting palm. He walked over to my closet and flung it open.
“It’s just as nineties as I thought,” he said to himself, inspecting the haphazard contents. “Should I just start grabbing stuff? You kind of wear the same thing every day. Let’s see, we need leggings, a band t–shirt and skirt. Maybe jeans.”
I marched over to him and shut my closet door, facing him with my arms held against it like I was guarding some secret passage. “Seriously, where could we possibly be going tonight? Also, I wear my band shirts to sleep.”
“I’ve seen you wear them at other times. Weren’t you wearing a Kings of Leon shirt last week?”
“Dex!” I said through gritted teeth. I hated KOL with a passion. And also, he was pissing me off with his avoidance.
He yawned. Don’t tell me he was bored?
“Here’s the plan. I drove all the way down here to, uh, fix things. Now it makes perfect sense that you come up with me tonight to Vancouver. BC. Canada. Not the fake Vancouver across the river.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “It’s like nine o’clock at night!”
“OK, maybe we won’t make it as far as Vancouver, but anyway, we’ll get as far as we can. We have a hockey game to attend!”
“What?” I rubbed my temples again. None of this was making any sense.
“You said last time that it would be ‘great’ if we actually hung out in a normal setting and got to know each other as people instead of running around with ghosts and scaring our panties off each other.”
It’s true. I did say that. Not the panties part but I did mention, offhand by the way, that it would be nice if we could just hang out like normal people did. Like friends. But I didn’t see where this was going.
He read the confusion on my face. It wasn’t hard. “There’s a Canucks hockey game against the Rangers tomorrow night. I got us tickets. We have to go to Vancouver anyway, to talk to someone about the filming. So you know, I was just trying to be a good guy and please you.”
“Phhff,” I sniffed. “Please me? What if I said I hated hockey?”
“I’d never speak to you again,” he said, narrowing his eyes. It was hard to see how serious he was. He hadn’t really mentioned hockey before, at least not when I was listening, but he also took the weirdest things very seriously. “Is it true?”
“No.” I didn’t have anything against the sport, I just didn’t know anything about hockey. Understandable, since we had no NHL teams in Oregon, just the minor league Portland Winterhawks.
“Good,” he said, still watching me carefully. “Then we can still be friends.”
“So, we leave tonight…go to the island on Friday?”
“Correct–a–mundo. Then we come back on Sunday, just in time for your birthday on Monday.”
“You know when my birthday is?” I was sorta touched by that. It was sad that I was so easily impressed.
He tapped his head. “I’m more observant than you think. Now, without any more jerking off from you, I suggest you get packing as fast as you can. I’ll help. Where are your bras and underwear?”
I rolled my eyes, pulled out my overnight bag and started cramming crap in there.
*