16. Indifference Is Bullshit
16
Indifference Is Bullshit
Clayton
“ H ey, girl, hey.” I wink at Nancy at her usual spot behind the checkout counter as I enter my favorite artisanal baking supply shop.
Her face blushes the way it always does when I greet her. “Hi, sweetheart.”
And like he always does, her husband grumbles from his spot next to her, “You ever going to stop hitting on my wife, boy?”
“Only when she stops looking so beautiful, old man.”
Nancy tucks a strand of silver hair behind her ear before winking back at me. “Oh, hush, Kevin. Let the poor boy be.” Kevin huffs out a sigh and continues flipping through the pile of paperwork on the counter in front of him.
“Got anything good for me today, Nanc?”
“Sure do. Got some more of that double zero flour you like, and there may or may not be an apron around here somewhere that says, ‘Kiss me if I look hot in this apron.’”
Tipping my head back dramatically, I clutch my chest. “Nancy, you really do know the way to my heart.”
She laughs as I make a beeline to where I know the apron is hanging, making sure that’s the first thing I throw in my basket; not because I need it, but because I know she ordered it especially for me. And it’s also clever as hell. I also stock up on my favorite double zero flour, which I use for most of my breads and doughs. Mindlessly, I move about the rest of the store, stocking up on all the things I know I’m short on. Which, considering the excessive amount of sourdough, cookies, and muffins littering my kitchen counters, is almost everything.
Besides business school, volleyball, and fucking… there’s one other thing I can confidently say I’m really good at. Baking. I’m not even ashamed of it, either. Women love a man in the kitchen, and men love to eat. It’s a win-win all around.
1 From the moment I learned how to use a stove, Marissa taught me everything she knew about baking. And before I turned twelve, I knew how to make her world-famous double chocolate cake from scratch. I loved it. And soon, it became my escape when I was feeling anxious about everything in life. Whenever my dad harps on me relentlessly about how I’m never enough, I bake. Whenever my mom insists on being anywhere but around her only child, I bake. Whenever the pressure of becoming the next volleyball star feels like too much, I bake. And whenever I start panicking about the fact that I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper for a certain bull-headed man, even though I’ve never wanted a serious relationship in my life, I bake.
So it’s safe to say I spend a lot of time baking. Especially the past few days.
It’s been three days since our night in the hotel room. Three days since Rocky trusted me with his body. Three days since I felt his shivers of pleasure beneath my hands. Three days since I tasted him on my tongue. Three days since my entire world shifted on it’s axis.
And now I’m standing in front of a shelf full of chocolate chips, shifting my basket in front of my rapidly growing dick. If Kevin finds out I have a boner in front of his wife, not only will he kill me, but he will never let me shop here again.
Which would be a great travesty. Because how will I ever continue my astounding apron collection?
I try to force the thoughts of that night from my mind but the only thing that’s ready to take their place is Rocky’s face the following morning. It was the same one he wore on the way home from our game and the same one he had yesterday at our Monday morning practice.
It wasn’t one of panic—no, I think I’d almost have that. Instead, it was one of indifference, like what we did together was neither here nor there; like it wasn’t as life-altering for him as it was for me.
What’s more, I know that’s a heaping pile of dog shit.
I know he feels something for me. And if what he’s feeling is a fraction of the emotions coursing through my body like a tsunami crashing into the Florida shoreline, there’s no way he would be indifferent .
Which means he’s hiding it.
Like he always does.
I’m about sick and fucking tired of his aloofness. I have enough people in my life who are only in it when it’s convenient for them. I don’t want Rocky to be one of them. He can’t be one of them. Neither my waistline nor my mind can handle his indecisiveness any longer. Either he’s in this, or he’s out.
I’ve wanted nothing more than to confront him about it, but it’s nearly impossible to do when he’s been the epitome of cordial since we woke up Sunday morning. He smiles and gives me one-word answers, but it’s like pulling teeth to get him to do anything else. Every time I text him to ask if we can talk he says he’s busy studying, and he dipped out of practice so fast the last two days there was practically a cloud of smoke behind him.
I think I'd literally kill for an eye roll or a “What the fuck, Clay?”
Forcing myself out of my existential crisis in the middle of Delectable Desserts, I grab the chocolate I need for the raspberry chocolate mousse and head toward the checkout counter. I’m rounding the corner of the aisle when a familiar deep voice stops me in my tracks.
“Here’s the rent check, Mrs. Wilkins.”
“Thank you. But for the hundredth time, Rockwell, I really wish you’d just call me Nancy.”
“I know. I’ll remember one of these days,” he answers while shooting her one of his rare authentic smiles. The same one I’ve been dying to see for the last two days.
Nancy spots me over Rocky’s shoulder. “Find everything you need, sweetheart?”
He does a double-take before turning to face me. It’s then that I see it, though; for a split second, his entire body relaxes, and he inhales a deep breath like his entire being is relieved to see me.
And those five seconds are enough to quiet the anxious thoughts running through my mind… at least for a few moments. It’s enough to give me hope.
Hope that he truly wants me as much as I want him.
“Clay?” he asks, brows pinching in confusion.
Walking up next to him, I put my overflowing basket on the counter. He looks down at it and chuckles lightly before looking back at me. “What are you doing flirting with my girl?” I ask him.
“She’s not your girl, Clayton,” Kevin grumbles, not even sparing me a glance. “See, Nancy. This is why I like this one better.” He points up at Rocky while simultaneously flipping through his papers.
Gasping, I answer dramatically, “I’m hurt, Kev, really. I thought we were friends.”
Kevin doesn’t dignify me with a response. Instead, he starts scanning my groceries as Nancy and I laugh among ourselves.
“Organizing a bake sale?” Rocky asks with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. I didn’t realize how much I missed that in the span of three days until just now.
“No bake sale. Just trying out a new raspberry chocolate mousse recipe.”
Rocky’s face morphs from mischievous to genuinely perplexed in the span of two seconds. “Did you just say the words 'raspberry chocolate mousse'?”
“Sure did.” I puff my chest out proudly.
“Clay here is an amazing baker,” Nancy interjects, equally as proud. “His cannolis are literally heaven on earth. I don’t know what he puts in that cream, but it is the most delectable thing I’ve ever tasted. You should try it, Rockwell!”
I can’t fucking help it. “Oh, he has, Nanc. Rocky was a big fan of my cream.”
Rocky’s face snaps toward mine so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave himself whiplash. Curling my lips in, using every ounce of my self-control not to burst out in uncontrollable laughter, I stare into his mortified eyes, all while pulling out my card and handing it to Kevin.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Nancy claps in excitement. The sweet lady has no idea she just set up the world’s most perfect double entendre. “I didn’t know the two of you knew one another.”
I clap Rocky on his muscular shoulder, savoring the way he inhales a ragged breath at my touch. “Rockwell and I have gotten to know one another very well. ”
“Alright, well, I gotta go shower. You have a good day, Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins,” Rocky quickly blurts out, clearly wanting to remove himself as fast as possible.
I watch in amusement as Rocky’s perky ass bolts out the front door, all while Nancy calls after him. “It’s Nancy!”
Snatching my card out of Kevin’s outstretched hand, grabbing my bags off the counter, and kissing Nancy on the cheek, I race after Rocky. I laugh as I hear Kevin’s grumbling in the background.
By the time I catch up to him, Rocky is rounding the corner of the building. “Rock! Wait!”
For a moment, I think he’s going to bolt up the metal staircase, but I am grateful when he turns around to face me with a wide-eyed smile plastered across his face. Before I can get a word out, he’s stomping toward me, and in the next second, he has my face in his hand. Squeezing it so hard, he purses my lips. He brings his face close enough to mine that I can feel the hair from that goddamn mustache ghost against my lips.
“Embarass me like that again, Garot?o, and I’ll chop your balls off, grind them to dust, and mix them into your precious cream. Understand?”
I’d take his threat more seriously if he wasn’t still grinning at me like the Kool-Aid Man. “Sorry. She set up the shot. I had to take it. ”
Leaning forward a fraction of an inch, his lips graze mine. “Essa maldita boca.”
Much to my disappointment, Rocky takes a step back. Remembering what I heard him say to Nancy, I ask, “So, rent check, huh?”
Scrubbing a hand down his face, he answers, “Yeah. I rent out the apartment upstairs. But, had I known you were the Pillsbury Doughboy, I would have braved the dilapidated apartment above the pizzeria down the street.”
I bark out a laugh. “First of all, nothing about my impeccable physique says ‘Pillsbury Doughboy.’ Second of all, now that I know you live above one of my favorite places on earth, all the more reason to show up more often.” I didn’t think it was possible, but Rockwell Campos fucking blushes. “So you gonna invite me up, or what?”
I don’t know when I’m going to get another opportunity like this with him, but I’m sure as hell not going to waste it.
Rocky’s eyes search my face for a moment before he chuckles lowly and shakes his head. Turning on his heels, he starts walking up the stairs. “Come on, Betty Crocker.”
Indifferent, my ass.
1. TOO LATE - Chase Atlantic