Chapter 8 – Maxi-Pad.
“Maxi-pad? Really, Colton?” Hallie asks. The side-eye she’s giving me is the look a mom would give her child when she’s about to scold them for being naughty.
Grinning, I say, “Well, yeah, you’ve met Max, right? It’s like she’s permanently on shark week, you know what I mean?” Logan barks out a laugh as he joins me at the kitchen table in their apartment.
“No, Colton, I don’t, and I’m not sure I want you to elaborate on it either.” She turns around, waving her hand in the air while loading the dishwasher.
“Ah, come on, Hallie … shark week, time of the month, periooood? All the same thing, right?” Logan elbows me in the ribs before laughing.
Spinning around, she makes a gagging sound while shaking her head and muttering, “Still don’t want to know, Colt.”
Amused by Hallie’s reaction, I carry on. “Anyway, since she’s so moody all the time, I figured it was a never-ending bullet wound down there, my mom used to have these extra-large pads in her drawer at home.”
I snap my fingers a few times in the air like I am trying to remember what they are. “Maxi pad, that’s what they were called. Soooo, Max’s name, her bad mood … Maxi-Pad, I think it’s cute.”
Logan pipes up beside me while chuckling. “I worry about you all the time; you should know that, okay? I really worry.” Hallie and I laugh along.
“So, how’s the speech coming?” Logan asks. My cheeks heat up, and I will not be able to get away with lying to Logan since he’s known me my entire life. I let out a long breath, and his hand lands on my shoulder, so I turn toward him, then he smiles. “It will be okay, don’t stress.” He’s always been able to see straight through me. I half smile back, then look down to the empty cup in my hand.
Without even thinking it through, I word vomit. “I met someone.” Understatement of the year. Thinking back to that kiss we shared … Shit, that was something else. It took every ounce of my soul not to tear her clothes off there and then.
Hallie turns like she’s a sloth with a huge grin that threatens to split her entire face in half while Logan smiles and nods.
“Sooo, tell us more, Colton. Jesus, usually I can’t get you to shut up, now when you drop the juice, you go quiet. What the hell?” Hallie says. Logan chuckles.
“I, urm, I …”
Hallie braces herself on the table.
An impatient “We’re waiting” comes from Hallie.
“It’s complicated, uh, I think? Look, I don’t know how to describe it, but I met a girl named Pearl, and she’s different from anyone else. I can’t explain it.” Hallie claps and gives me a giddy laugh followed by a “Ooooooooohhhhhh.” “Okay, when did you meet this, Pearl?” Logan asks. I clear my throat. “Yesterday.” I wince.
“Pidge, baby, give me a minute with Colt,” Logan asks his wife-to-be.
She taps him on the shoulder as she passes, saying, “Sure,” then wanders off down the hallway.
I shrug at Hallie’s retreating body and turn back to Logan. “I’d say to invite this girl to the wedding, but it’s only been a day and with your track record, you’re probably gonna forget her name come tonight.”
I scowl, furrowing my brows so hard they might become one. “What does that mean?” I snap.
“It means how do you know this girl is different from any of the others you’ve ditched after a day?” He’s calm, and deep down, I know he has a point.
“Because I haven’t told you about the others.”
“Actually”—he shifts in his seat— “you have, you regularly blurt out your endeavors to us.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Thanks for the support,” I mumble, then get up and put my suit jacket back on. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Hey, Colt, look, don’t take it to heart, man, you know full well if you found the girl you wanna spend the rest of your life with, me and Pidge will be there for you, all the way.” He has pity in his voice, and it pisses me off, but I don’t wanna argue with him.
“I’m just saving face here, you’re right, I’m a whore.” I smile at him. “Tell Hallie I say bye.”
******
“She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s Miss, I will punch you in the face.” I’m talking to a fucking pigeon while sitting on a bench in Central Park, is this my life now? Jesus, I suck.
“Who took the jam out of your donut, Deep Browns.” I look up to see Pearl in front of me.
She raises her brows and smiles when I don’t answer.
I clear my throat. “Sorry, I’m just trying to unpack the jam and donut thing you just came out with.”
Giggling, she says, “I don’t know. I heard it in a movie once. You look like shit, what happened?”
“Cheers, darling.” I wink. I pat the bench beside me, and she flops down.
“Bad day?” I ask.
“Yeah, like yours, I guess.” She sighs, so I lean over and grab one of her clasped hands from her lap and bring it over to mine.
“Tell me about it, I’m a good listener.”
“Well, Mr. D., my piano teacher, you met him last night.” She nods at me.
“I remember ‘Mr. Bright Vests.’” She chuckles.
“Yeah, him. He wasn’t pleased with my attitude and commitment to the course, and gladly let me know that there are plenty of other people who wanted my position in the program.” I stare at her as she tells me about Mr. Dickhead, and the more she tells me, the more I want to go drop kick him in the head.
“He made me play for three hours straight; I’m just tired, I think.” Three hours … No, I’m not okay with that.
“I think I will go talk to him, it was partly my fault.” My voice grows darker by the minute.
Pearl jumps up from the bench and stands in front of me, a finger pointing in my direction. “No!” she shouts. “You will not go near there or him, understand, I don’t need no knight in shining armor.”
Annoyed by her constant mood swings, I say, “I am not your knight in shining armor, not trying to be either, I am just trying to be your friend, is all.” I can’t be bothered with hearing her response, as it’s probably something sarcastic or rude, so I storm off.