Chapter 14 Carson #2
“We practiced a bunch of skating skills and finished with a speed test and an endurance test. For endurance, we had to do twenty-seven laps in under five minutes, which I definitely did not do. But then we did a sprint, which was supposed to be a single lap in under thirteen seconds, and I did it. I freaking did it. On my first try! And when I crossed the finish line, everyone was cheering, and I don’t know, it was just cool to be in this room full of badass women cheering each other on. I just…I just loved it.”
He smiles, and it’s a real one—I can tell because there’s a dimple in his left cheek that I’ve never seen before. “That’s amazing, Carson.”
The sound of my name coming out of his mouth nearly sucks the air from my lungs. Thank god I’m already sitting or my knees might have given out.
“It really was,” I say. I clear my throat and continue. “I mean, it was really hard. My body is definitely not used to doing this stuff, and I haven’t even gotten hit yet. I have a feeling my muscles aren’t going to know the difference tomorrow, though. I’m going to be sore.”
He nods. “Taking up something new is always an adjustment. My arm was exhausted after the first couple of weeks of tattooing. Holding the gun steady, the physical concentration. I had to ice my shoulder every night.”
I eye his arms, his sleeves still rolled midway up his forearms. He’s obviously jacked, his arms carved and veined. Woe betide the pickle jar that tries to best him.
“I can help you out,” Dan says, and my eyes suddenly jerk away from the wonder that is his arms.
“With what?” I stutter.
“I can take you to the gym. Teach you how to lift.”
I grimace like he just suggested I eat my neighbor’s cat. “Ugh, I fucking hate the gym.”
He laughs. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you swear.”
“Hazard of teaching five-year-olds. Your vocabulary becomes decidedly PG.”
“Funny that the gym is what brought it out of you.”
I sigh. “It makes me think of my mother saying, ‘A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.’ As if my weight were something I could control and not, you know, part of my genetics.”
Dan’s jaw clenches, and he’s silent for a long moment.
Too long. Long enough that I start shifting in my chair under the force of his glare.
When he finally speaks, it’s only after a long, slow inhale and a harsh exhale.
He leans across the table, and the heat of his gaze is enough to make me sit back in my chair, like his attention could actually burn me.
“Carson, I don’t want to take you to the gym to make you smaller.
I want to take you to the gym to make you bigger,” he says, like he can’t believe anyone would ever suggest anything else.
And then his full lips curve into the most devilish grin.
“We put a little more muscle on that ass, you’re going to knock girls into the stands. And that’s something I want to see.”
I blink, swallowing hard to keep from choking on the chunk of pineapple lodged in my throat.
“I, uh—” I sputter. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
I nod.
“Monday?”
Oh crap, I thought I’d have more time to try to get out of this.
“Sure,” I concede, even though I’m far from it.
“Seven a.m. okay?”
I grimace. “Do we have to?”
He grins. “Best way to start your day.”
“Fine.” I might regret talking to him after all.
He rises from his chair and opens the fridge to pull out the orange juice, and the motion of the door produces just enough wind to send my taped-up sample of lemon-printed wallpaper fluttering to the floor.
He bends and scoops it up, studying it like he’s committing to memory every sunny yellow curve, every green leaf.
“What’s this?” he finally asks.
“Just a wallpaper sample. It’s been hanging there for months. I’m surprised the Scotch tape held on so long,” I say.
He glances up. “You still considering it?”
“No…yes? I mean, I love that wallpaper. It’s so bright and happy. I can imagine it perking me up on even the darkest day of a Midwestern winter. I definitely want that wallpaper.”
“I could help you put it up. Since you’re letting me stay.”
I shake my head. “Oh god, no. You don’t need to earn your keep.
And anyway, you’ve already done more than enough by picking my drunk ass up in Spencer.
I just…I don’t know, I haven’t really been able to commit to anything in here yet.
” I stand and walk past him to deposit the now-empty fruit salad Tupperware in the sink.
On my way, I pluck the wallpaper from his hand.
“It would look good,” he says. “It’s a good choice.”
“Thanks,” I say, sticking the sample back on the wall with a mental note to find another piece of tape.
I love this wallpaper. I loved it from the first moment I saw it.
I want this wallpaper. I just…I don’t know if I want it here.
Which makes no sense, because this is my house.
My kitchen. I have no idea where else I’d put it.
I just need to suck it up and order the rolls, break the seal and put it up.
Grace is right—I need to start focusing on myself and my future. And I should start with this wallpaper.
I turn away from the sink and see Dan studying me in very much the same way he focused on his drawing. It makes my skin prickle. His lips part like he wants to ask me more about the wallpaper, but I say, “I’m going to shower. Seven a.m.?”
He nods. “Seven a.m.”