Chapter 20 Ronan #2
She arched a brow. “Are you taking me on a date?”
“Maybe. You want to? Or is that against the rules?”
She looked like she was going to clap back with something smart-ass. Instead, her smile softened. “I could eat.”
“Good.” I realized I hadn’t been on an actual date with a girl since…ever. All my “dates” had been sex in rough places. Drunken hookups. Quick fixes. Shiloh was not that.
“But where to?” she asked as we left the shack and walked the path along the coast. “Not downtown Santa Cruz, I presume.”
“Not downtown. Any ideas?”
“Yes, actually. Ever been to Scotts Valley?”
“I haven’t been anywhere that’s not in walking distance from my place.”
“Ever have Thai food?”
“Also no.” I helped Shiloh over a good-size boulder.
“Unacceptable.” She jumped off the rock, the ocean water washing over her sandals as she stood on tiptoe to kiss me. “Stick with me, Wentz. I’ll take care of you.”
***
Scotts Valley was a little town tucked into the redwoods, just north of Santa Cruz—built on rolling hills with views of the forest in every direction. Shiloh maneuvered her Buick into a parking space on the main drag next to an art gallery.
“The restaurant I’m thinking of is on the other side of town,” she told me as we climbed out. “But it’s turning into a beautiful night. I thought we could walk.”
I nodded and marveled as her hand slipped into mine. We walked as the sun dipped behind the trees, and I could almost pretend I was a regular guy, living a normal life, going on a date with his girlfriend.
Slow the fuck down. She said no labels.
Still. The moment felt good, and I let myself have it.
“You come up here a lot?” I asked as we passed shops and restaurants.
“Bibi and I used to come once a month or so. I’ve been so busy preparing for my shop, it’s been a while.”
“How’s that going?” I asked. It seemed strange to think of her opening a business straight out of high school, but if anyone could do it, it was this girl.
“It’s in a holding pattern,” she said. “I’ve applied for all the permits and licenses, and now I’m just waiting to hear back.
But that’s not the worst of it. If I get the licenses, the next step is a meeting with a bank for a small business loan.
Which should be fun since I have no collateral to speak of and it’ll be a cold day in hell before I let Bibi put up the house. ”
“She offered?”
“She sure did,” Shiloh said, her voice turning thick for a moment. “But it’s far too risky. Most new businesses fail within the first three years, according to basically every article I’ve read on the subject. Bibi’s retired, and the house is paid off. I’m not about to wreck that for her.”
“Maybe she doesn’t feel like it’s wrecking anything but helping you build something instead.”
“That’s what she said too.” Her smile lingered, and then she shook her head. “But I need to do this on my own. If I fail, I’m not taking anyone down with me.”
I couldn’t imagine her failing at anything but kept my mouth shut. God knew life had a way of fucking shit up for good people. Like my mother. Or Maryann. I didn’t want to jinx it for Shiloh.
“What’s Wisconsin like?” she asked as we walked up and down the hilly streets, the night quiet.
“I’m not the right person to ask.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve got nothing good to say about it.”
“Was it hard? All those years in foster care?” She gave her head a shake. “Stupid question. I’m sure it was hard.”
“It was more than hard.”
“Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to.”
I nearly said no and then realized that I wanted to. I felt close to Shiloh, and I wanted to keep feeling that way.
“Some of the placements were okay. Some were not.”
“Were you moved around a lot?”
“Thirteen homes in ten years.”
“God.” She squeezed my hand. “I don’t understand how people can do that. Take a kid in and then kick them out again.”
“Some people do it for the money. Those are the worst. The good ones are rare, and only so many are looking to adopt. Thanks to my history, I wasn’t a good candidate.”
“Then your uncle found you?”
I looked straight ahead. “Yeah. But I’d already turned eighteen.”
“Bad timing.”
To say the least.
“But you’re with him now,” she said. “That’s a good thing, I hope.”
That was the time to tell her the truth, that I lived alone. But I liked feeling like a normal person too much to wreck it just yet.
“He’s okay,” I said. “But yeah, it’s good to have family. Even if it’s just one person.”
Shiloh nodded as we waited at a light to cross the street. Only a few cars were out; the town was sleepy.
“I feel the same. I love my aunt and uncle, and my cousin, Letitia, is the best, but I got lucky with Bibi. She’s my person. When my mom decided she didn’t want me anymore, Bibi was there.”
“How old were you?”
“Four. Old enough to remember crying when she dropped me off at Bibi’s house. Old enough to remember feeling like I’d done something wrong.” Her voice grew thick again. “I remember that.”
“Why did she wait until you were four?” I asked after a minute.
“I don’t know. I guess she was trying to be my mom, but she couldn’t do it.”
“I’m sorry, Shiloh.”
She smiled tightly. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but it’s what happened. And when bad shit happens, we figure out how to cope, right?”
I nodded, thinking of night walks and watching bonfires burn.
“My brilliant solution to deal with her rejection was to keep to myself. I figured if people didn’t get to know me—including my best friend—they wouldn’t have any cause to get rid of me.” She glanced up at me. “These are all new revelations, by the way. And do you know when they began to arrive?”
“No.”
“Roughly the exact instant I met you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Both,” she said and resumed walking. “Kind of pathetic, isn’t it? But I can’t help it. She’s my mom. She’s supposed to love me. It’s in the contract.”
“It’s not pathetic. It’s survival. Like you said, you do whatever you can to keep your shit together.”
“What do you do to keep your shit together?”
“I walk.”
“Walk?”
“All over town,” I said, shocking myself by telling her the truth. At least the part that didn’t sound crazy. “I can’t sleep. Bad nightmares. So I walk around until I feel tired enough to hopefully crash out.”
“God, you have nightmares that bad every night? Does it work?”
“Not really. But it’s either that or drink myself stupid.” I shrugged. “Seems like a better alternative. For now.”
We arrived at a small restaurant called Thai Heart. It seemed like Shiloh wanted to ask something else, but I held the door for her, ready to leave all my fucked-up shit outside.
The restaurant was simple but nicer than I was used to.
Little knickknacks from Thailand—Buddhas, temples, elephants, and brightly colored strings of beads were displayed in glass cases or hung from the walls.
The hostess gave us menus and a table by the window with a view of the street, and a waiter hurried over and took our drink order.
Shiloh ordered milk tea. I asked for a beer.
The menu made me feel stupid. I’d never heard of any of the dishes.
Shiloh read my face. “You want some recommendations? Do you like spicy food?”
“I’ve had hot sauce on Mexican food. That’s about it.”
I waited for Shiloh to ask me what rock I’d been living under, but she only smiled.
“Well, there’s hot and then there’s Thai hot. Proceed with caution.”
I imagined kissing Shiloh, my mouth hot with Thai spice and her mouth like sweet milk, soothing the burn…
I cleared my throat and surreptitiously adjusted my crotch under the table.
When the waiter returned, Shiloh ordered something called panang curry. I ordered pad kee mao.
“Drunkard’s noodles,” the waiter said, smiling. “Excellent.”
“There’s booze in it?”
“No, but it’s very spicy.”
I glanced at Shiloh across from me. Good.
When the waiter left, it was just her and me.
“The moment of truth,” Shiloh said, sipping her tea.
“What is?”
“The waiter is gone. We can’t attack each other, sexually speaking. We’re either going to start talking and hit it off, or…not. The moment of truth.”
“Okay.” I toyed with the chopsticks on my napkin. “You want to know all the pointless, boring shit about me?”
She laughed. “Are you saying you don’t want to know all the pointless, boring shit about me?”
I doubted there was any such thing. “I don’t like small talk.”
“You told me. When we first met. And neither do I.” Shiloh stirred the ice in her drink with her straw. “It’s funny though. We’re kind of doing it all backward. We’ve talked about heavy shit, we do all the kissing things, but we skipped the basics.”
“Basics?”
“The easy stuff. For instance, what kind of music do you like?”
I shrugged. “Not much. Older bands. Tool. Soundgarden is pretty good, I guess. You?”
“All kinds. From all over the world.” She pulled out her phone. “Check this out. His name is Ritviz, and he’s from India. He’s an EDM artist.”
“EDM?”
“Electronic dance music. Listen.”
Shiloh gave me one of her earbuds and put the other in her ear. A second later, I was listening to Indian EDM music in a Thai restaurant. Shiloh, even in her seat, danced to the electronic beats and the lyrics that were more rapped than sung.
“You know what he’s saying?”
“No clue,” she said, her smile radiant. “But it’s not about that. It’s about how it makes you feel.”
I liked the music okay, but it was Shiloh who made me feel everything. I watched her move, closing her eyes, getting lost right there at the table.
She grinned. “Good, right?”
Incredible.
“You like dancing?” I blurted like a jackass. “I mean…I see you at Central a lot, listening to music, but you didn’t go to homecoming.”
She shot me a wry smile. “I was out getting barbecue with you, if you recall.”
As if I could forget.
“I love dancing,” she continued. “I just don’t like school dances. The social scene in general doesn’t interest me. Not like I’m above it, but more like I’m running parallel on a totally different vibe, trying to get through it. Like I want my childhood to be over with.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because I feel like if I’m an adult with my own business, then what my mother thinks of me becomes irrelevant. I won’t be a kid anymore, needing her.” She waved a hand. “I know it doesn’t work that way, but it’s just something I do. To cope.”
I nodded.
Shiloh rested her chin in her hand, watching me. “We’re not doing a very good job of sticking to the basics. Quick, ask me something easy.”
“Uh…what’s your favorite movie?”
“Good one. I should say something deep and profound to impress you like The Color Purple or Citizen Kane, but I love Coming to America.” She chuckled. “Just thinking about it makes me happy. Yours?”
“Citizen Kane.”
Shiloh burst out laughing and chucked her napkin at me. “But for real.”
“I don’t know… My mom and I used to watch The Wizard of Oz, so I’ll say that.”
“I love that,” Shiloh said softly.
And so did I—being able to talk about my mother’s life instead of how she died.
“My turn,” Shiloh said. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Seriously?”
She arched a brow at me.
“Black. Yours?”
“Yellow.” Shiloh smiled, and she was positively fucking luminous. “Look at us. We are slaying the basics. Okay, one more. If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”
“Nowhere.”
Shiloh frowned. “Oh, come on. Don’t quit on me now. We were doing so well…”
“There is nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you.”
The words landed between us, stark and naked, and I inwardly cursed.
Too much. It’s too much.
Shiloh’s smile slipped, and her lips parted in a way I was coming to know meant I’d said or done something that stole her breath.
“Ronan Wentz,” she murmured and turned to look out the window. “I’m in more trouble than I thought.”
***
The food arrived, and I ate a pile of noodles that scorched my mouth but didn’t come close to filling me up. I insisted on paying the bill, and we left.
Out on the sidewalk, Shiloh smirked at me.
“What?”
“That wasn’t enough food for you, was it?”
“Not remotely.”
She laughed and tucked her arm in mine. “Come on. There’s a Mountain Mike’s Pizza up ahead. Let’s get you a slice or two.”
I stopped her before she could take a step and kissed her. And I was right; Shiloh tasted sweet and soft from the milk tea. Her tongue slid coolly against mine, and then she pulled back, breathless.
“Ronan, you taste like fire.” Her arms ringed my neck, and the kiss deepened, became the kind that wanted to lead to more.
“I don’t need pizza,” I said when we came up for air.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Thank God.”