For once, Saturday night is something I’m looking forward to. #2
I shake my head and scratch at my temple, wanting more than anything for this conversation to end.
“Let’s just put it on the table ‘cause we all know they’re gonna find out anyway,” Atti grunts, pointing toward the booth where Goldie and Beck sit together.
“Miller’s got it for Delane, and they started hangin’ out.
” He lifts his arm off the booth back to dust his palms together.
“There, now we can stop tiptoeing around it.”
“That’s…” I start but don’t know where to go with it.
Beck turns to face Beau. “You do understand the husband-wife rules, right?”
Goldie slams her curled fist into Atti’s shoulder, and he barely budges. “What?”
“Same goes for you! You have good gossip; you have to tell me. That’s the rules of being a couple.” She folds her arms across her chest and brings her pointed gaze to me. “I want details of this crush, Miller.”
I shake my head and look to Atticus to bail me out. He smirks. “Dude quit actin’ like it ain’t true.”
I look at Beau, who doesn’t budge to bail me out either. He just shrugs. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Delane is cool as fuck.”
And I never thought I’d be happy to see her, but the waitress returns, balancing a brown tray on her palm, loaded with a variety of drinks.
She begins sliding glasses across the table, making sure each of us gets exactly what we ordered.
She saves me for last, and instead of lowering mine to the table like she did with the rest, she hands mine to me.
Our fingertips touch.
There is no electricity. No zing. No zip of life up my spine.
No warmth in my groin, no tightening of the jeans.
There is effectively no reaction from my body to her touch.
In fact, I’m starting to get a little annoyed by her brazenness.
Yet, if it were Laney, I’d probably never let go of that glass of iced tea. Not until she did, at least.
“Thanks,” I say, turning my focus back to the table of my friends. Fortunately, either reading my extreme discomfort or simply being over the fact that I’m not going to spill my guts—Goldie changes the subject.
“Baby, I know I ordered a chicken salad, but I’m smelling fries. Can I have some of yours when they come?” Atticus gives her a wink which elicits a heartwarming grin from Goldie.
“Thanks,” she smiles up at him, and then her phone rings, further distracting the table, and I know I’m safely out of their crosshairs. At least for now.
The food comes quickly; Beau nabs the tab and pays it before we have time to argue. Lunch is nice. The food is fine. We had a good time.
But the whole time, I can’t help but think the food would have tasted a lot better if Delane were here to share it with me.
Back at Kings, Delane is already back from wherever she went, and I hate to think she met someone. I don’t ask, though, because I don’t think that’s my business, even though I want to know more than anything.
Instead, I approach her at the desk and ask to see her hand. She lifts it to me, eyes soft, mouth curled into a tender smile. I take her by the wrist and study the fading purple skin, smoothing my thumb over the worst part.
“It’s looking better,” I note, nodding my head. “Good. I’m glad it’s not bothering you anymore.”
“Yeah, me too,” she says, her voice trailing off a little as she blinks up at me.
“Well, I’m getting back to work,” I say because I just want another moment of talking to her, but I don’t know what else to say, and there’s a customer sitting in the waiting area, probably listening to us.
I pass by her, headed toward the shop door when she reaches out and snags me by the upper bicep. “Check your phone.”
My heart leaps into my throat shoved out of my chest from the way my stomach jumps up. “I will,” I say as she releases me, smiles, and returns to her computer screen.
Out in the shop, I take exactly twelve seconds before I get my phone out and unlock it. Sure enough, one text message is waiting for me.
Delane
Put the cage on after work
My fingers move against the digital keyboard like I’m typing in launch codes to save the world, I swear.
I’ll put it on. Come over tonight ?
Dots dance, and I know I’m getting a response.
I smile just waiting. And then my smile fades because–I have to put that contraption on.
I want to do it for her–I think I’d do anything for her, which is a bit terrifying as I’ve never felt that for anyone other than Salsa–but I’m a little confused as to how it’s going to go. But then her message appears.
Can’t tonight. Tomorrow night? Here’s a link to an article on how to best get yourself into chastity. Something tells me you may need it.
I don’t read the message as patronizing; rather, she knows my lack of experience and only wants to make things easiest for me. And for that open acceptance, my heart swells. Wearing a smile, I text her back.
You read my mind. Thank you. See you tomorrow night, how’s 7?
See you then.
I slide my phone into my back pocket and nearly jump out of my skin as Atti claps a hand down on my shoulder, squeezing me tight.
“Date with Laney at seven tomorrow, huh?” he gruffs.
“Not a date–” I rush out before, “you were reading our message?”
His lips turn down as he shakes his head. “Na, just the last one.” With his hand still on my shoulder, he squeezes again. “Have fun, man.”
He walks off before I can answer. I shove my phone away and head down to bay three, where I’m doing a driveshaft replacement, a bit ironically. And the entire time I’m working on the car above me, I keep thinking about Delane, that cage, and tomorrow night.
My life is going to change at seven on Saturday night, and even though I don’t know how or what’s going to happen, I just know it is.
For once, Saturday night is something I’m looking forward to.