10. Happy Trails and Fairy Tales
Chapter ten
Happy Trails and Fairy Tales
Albany
“ I t’s six o’clock in the morning,” I groan after fumbling to find my phone and hit the accept button. “Sweet sassy molassy, Pipes. You know I go to bed late on work nights.”
“What’s wrong?” she pants.
“Are you at the gym, Norman Bates?” I ask, ignoring her question. I yawn and throw back my covers. I won’t be going back to sleep now. Anxiety is already filling my gut with acid and making me feel a weird, slowly increasing form of internal jitters that will, I have no doubt, hit full stride once I consume my normal intake of coffee.
“I’m at the gym every morning by five thirty. You know this. What’s going on?” The muted whir of her treadmill and the rhythmic pounding of her feet sound through her mic.
“I’m going to pee,” I grouse, padding into the bathroom. Tossing the phone onto the counter, I hiss at the impact of cold toilet seat against my warm ass.
“Bitch, if you don’t start talking—”
I release my bladder and a loud sigh at the same time.
“You’re disgusting. I don’t know why I mess with you sometimes.” Piper would have hit mute because she’s a lady. I would never piss on the phone with anyone except Piper. She woke me up this early. She needs to pay.
“Because you love me,” I answer. “Duh. But your spidey senses are on point. Something weird happened last night. Wait. Something wonderful. That I fucked up, and then something weird.”
“Explain,” she orders, panting a little bit harder now.
In between wiping, flushing, washing my hands, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed, I tell her about the kiss and then the fallout.
Sal knowing who Jake was isn’t up for debate. The question of how is. “Albs, how old is Sal? I think he’s a few years older than you, so he couldn’t have gone to school with you. Do you know anything about Sal?” she continues, making a list for discovery like a good little law student.
Jogging down the stairs, my tiny boobs barely bounce, unrestrained under my loose sweatshirt as my messy wad of hair falls to a new position over my left ear. I tell myself that I’m in a rush because I need coffee, but the disappointment I suffer bursting into an empty kitchen is telling. “He isn’t here,” I moan softly into the phone.
“Albs,” Piper groans back in sympathy. “You’re going to have to admit it to yourself. You really like Sal.”
“Of course, I do. He’s a great guy,” I respond, knowing that giving in will maybe surprise Piper long enough for me to make the rest of my remarks without an objection. “And he’s been through a huge breakup. A breakup he won’t talk about. So yes, I like him. He’s become my second-best bestie. Am I adult enough to admit we have chemistry? Yes, yes, I am. Am I going to admit I’m crushing hard on him when that would make me a jerk of epic proportions? No. No, I am not.”
I fill my reusable pod and slap the top of my machine shut as I eyeball the water level. “No one says epic or jerk anymore, Albs,” she chastises gently. “But admitting to me that you like him doesn’t make you an asshole. Have you stopped to consider that maybe his heart isn’t all that broken if he’s kissing you like that?”
Once my coffee starts running, I pad to the fridge to grab my creamer. “Everyone does that, Piper. You’ve done that. It’s called a rebound.”
“I don’t rebound, baby. I make adult choices to satisfy my normal biological urges.” She sniffs, immediately defensive about any remark that might possibly besmirch her rules for not falling in love, a life plan she views as an impeccable decision. I snort internally. Impeccable. Sal’s kisses are far more than a peck.
“I know, I know,” I rush out, agreeing with her. I do my best to respect Piper’s choices and not rehash my not-so-secret theory that she’s a wounded bird waiting for her prince charming to scoop her up and patch her broken love wing. “I’m not judging him for needing a rebound. I’m saying I can’t be it.”
“Maybe a no-strings-attached bang fest with someone you’re fond of and really like as a person is exactly what you need,” she nudges.
“Maybe,” I agree noncommittally. I pour creamer in over my coffee, the bloom of peppermint making me smile. “But that isn’t what Sal needs. He’s not that kind of guy. I don’t have hard evidence to give you, Pipes, I just sense it. He’s holding on to hope. I think he won’t talk about it because he doesn’t want to admit that it’s over.”
“I take it back. You don’t need to get horizontally tangled with stalker tendencies, no matter how big the dick.”
“I didn’t say it was big!” I protest with a squeal; my face burns hotter than my coffee. It was. It was practically coming out of the top of his jeans.
“You didn’t have to. I can see the cum shots in your eyes over the phone, you’re so dickmatized.” She switches the camera on and treats me to a view of her glowing face. She wipes her brow with a towel. “I gotta go, babe.” She air-kisses the phone. “Call me if you need me. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
I switch on my camera. “Love you, too, Pipes. And it’s stars. Stars in my eyes. Have fun learning how to burn down the world.”
“Have fun getting caught up in a bunch of business you should definitely stay out of.” She waves all cutesy with her giant cheerleader smile pasted on.
The gall of her. “Have fun shaking your ass at the patriarchy,” I screech back. We flip each other off, and she manages to hang up first.
I set my phone down with a smile and pull the string to open the blinds. I’ll never admit it to Piper, but it’s kind of nice to be up in time to see the sunrise. My pool lights are still twinkling, the timer set to keep them on until seven. The guest house is dark. Sal must still be sleeping.
Taking another sip, I stare at the tiny house as a plan begins to formulate in my mind. I can hear Piper telling me what a bad idea going over there is, but I shove her warnings aside. Why should Sal get to sleep in if I have to be awake?
My hand raps on the teal-painted door one, two, three times before the reality of what I’m doing sets in. It’s seven in the morning. Coming over and knocking on his door sans emergency is nothing but rude.
“Go away, Albany,” comes a muffled, masculine voice.
Knock, knock, knock . Pause. “No,” I shout at the door, feeling foolish but also entitled to a discussion.
I stumble back a step, clutching the strings of my sweatshirt, surprised when the door is unceremoniously ripped open.
And then my jaw hits the cement.
Sal is standing in the doorway, his dark hair dripping, body steaming around the tiny towel he’s got wrapped around his waist. When he crosses his arms over his chest in irritation, not modesty, the things his pecs do make me swallow. Hard.
Do not look at his happy trail, Albany. Do not look. Do not look —
“Did you bang on my door to ogle me, or are you going to insist on coming in for a discussion I’m obviously not ready for?” He unwinds his very corded forearms and lifts one up to the doorframe as he leans, shifting his weight to kick one foot over the other.
My eyes travel the length of him, watching his abdomen ripple. The side of his glutes flex under the tightly wrapped towel, and his—
“Albany! Eyes up here,” he commands, spearing two spread fingers in my face before drawing them, and my gaze, back to his. I flip up my hood and pull the strings until the hood is pulled tight over my eyes. Only my mouth and nose stick out of the hole.
“I’m sorry,” I squeak. “If anyone knows what it feels like to be ogled, it’s me. I’m a disgrace to my…” I stop speaking, alarm making my cheeks blaze even brighter.
“That’s terrible. And I’m sorry,” he offers begrudgingly. What comes out his mouth next surprises me. “You are not a disgrace to albinism. People shouldn’t stare at you because they’re jealous.”
I snort. “Jealous? You’ve got it twisted. They don’t stare because they’re jealous. They stare because—” He reaches for me, stepping back as he pulls me into the guest house. In one smooth move, he takes me in his arms, spinning us farther into the guest house while kicking the door closed. And then he kisses me so thoroughly that gravity ceases to exist. He reaches up and tugs on the hood, loosening it before pushing it back. Drops of water from his shower soak into my sweatshirt as my fingers slip across his wet back.
He kisses me sideways then inside out. And when he slows, not breaking the kiss but bringing it to an artful halt, he murmurs into my mouth. “They stare at your slender ankles, right below the line of your calves, because they disappear in the most captivating way under those infernal maxi skirts you like. Because of the very feminine flare of your hips atop the perfect, juicy thighs they suddenly want to bite. They can’t stop looking at your perfect breasts. At how they’re plump enough to squeeze but still small and pert enough to look fucking stunning in a plain T-shirt. And when their hungry eyes fall upon your face, they’re blinded because not only are your features the most uniquely beautiful they’ve seen, but because your inherent kindness is a rarity. And the way it shines leaves no dark corner for their small-minded envy to survive in.”
I gasp, stunned at his words. Never in my life has anyone said anything like that to me. Tears prick and burn behind my eyes. “I, uh, I came here to apologize for whatever it was I said that chased you out last night.”
He draws back, jerking his thumb toward the bedroom door. “Mind if I get dressed?”
“Yes.” He stops, his face looking quizzical, and then bursts out laughing. “No! God no. I meant no.” I scramble, rattled to my core that I let my thought slip. Cheese and rice. How awkward! There’s no place for me to escape with Sal two steps from the bedroom and bathroom and me already in the open, tiny living room and kitchenette.
A flood of gratefulness fills me as he turns and leaves me to marinate in my horror alone.
Besides, he didn’t get embarrassed after giving me all those amazing compliments. I want to chalk up what he said to kindness, but I’m too old and too experienced to lie to myself.
Sal is into me. He wants me as badly as I want him. The attraction between us is palpable. On paper, we chalk up to a great match. We like each other. We enjoy spending time together. I admire his work ethic, and eating his food is no chore. He’s articulate, kind, and patient, all the things that make him a great teacher.
Which is exactly why I shouldn’t mess up what we have with pheromones and desires I thought I had long put to bed.
Using my job as an excuse that I don’t need a man to scratch my deep-seated itches has become tiring. I became a cam girl to boost my self-confidence. And then, after a couple of bad experiences dating, I used my occupation to rationalize not needing a partner. The time I’ve spent with Sal has been quality, and each morning, when I wake up thinking about him, feeling joy and excitement that I’m going to be spending a portion of the day with him, it makes justifying staying single more difficult.
But losing Sal’s friendship… Maybe the lesson I need to learn here is that even if Sal isn’t the one for me, I need to pay more attention to the rest of my life and stop focusing on my career so much. Lots of people have time-stamped careers. Maybe it’s time to admit to myself that I need a hand to hold when my time at Behind the Lens is over, and I must discover what my second career will be.
All these thoughts whiz through my head while Sal is in his bedroom. Throwing on some clothes doesn’t take him long, but by the time he comes out of the bedroom, I’m mostly over my embarrassment.
“Wanna go get some breakfast or coffee and eat at Sweet Alchemy? I’ve got to prep for class tonight, and we have a lot of things to talk about,” he says without preamble.
“I…yeah. Yes. I’d love to.” Winding my fingers through his hand, I bump the side of his thigh with my hip. “That was a lot of really nice things you said about me, Sal. Thank you.”
He shrugs, smiling. “I speak the truth, woman. Let no man say otherwise.”
“No matter what comes out at breakfast, I will never be sorry that Wrongfully flung her nasty chocolate in my face.”
He laughs, tapping me on the nose. “I think you mean Woefully. I’m grateful, too. I should give her free classes for leading me into the lap of a new, hot landlady.”
We stare at each other, both bursting out with a “Nah” and a “Hell no” together.
When we walk outside, the sun is shining, burning off the dew and turning the day into something spectacular. Birds are chirping, and a tiny chipmunk scurries across my lawn, leaving me feeling a little bit like a modern-day Snow White. I cross my fingers as I slip into his Jeep, praying that I still feel the same way by this afternoon.