Levi #2
The sight of Brandon snapping his mouth shut does nothing to satisfy my mounting irritation. The cab falls silent, save for Justin’s cheerful whistle as he stares out the window nonchalantly.
Thankfully, we’re almost back to the shop, and I throw my door open and climb out as soon as I come to a full stop in the gravel lot. I stalk inside and grab my extra hoodie out of the locker, not bothering to change out of my work boots. I’m not in the mood to stick around tonight.
I leave out the back door, pausing only long enough to wave goodbye to Harold, and make my way over to my truck.
Slamming the door behind me, I scrub my hands down my face.
Why did I feel an urge to defend Oakley from what I know was harmless teasing?
It’s not like she was sitting there listening to it. Still, it didn’t sit right with me.
I drive home on autopilot, my mind never slowing, never ceasing to spin in endless circles as I try to piece together what the hell it is about her that makes me feel the intrinsic need to protect her.
Is it the way she so obviously guards herself, or is it the thrill of another puzzle to figure out?
When I turn the key in the lock on the front door, I can already hear the thump thump thump of Bandit’s tail on the hardwood on the other side like he does every night.
I step into the darkness of the entryway, feeling for the light switch on the wall before the lights blaze to life.
Bandit, my sixty-pound German shepherd, pounces, jumping up and attacking my face with wet slobbering kisses before I’m all the way through the door.
“Hey, buddy,” I greet him affectionately, and he responds with another lick that goes from my chin all the way up to my forehead. “Gotta go out?”
He lets out a bark and spins quickly towards the back door. It's a wonder he keeps his footing and doesn’t faceplant like he used to when he was a puppy and hadn’t yet grown into his oversized paws.
I drop my things by the front door and close it behind me before following him to the sliding door and opening it. He bounds out the back door and into the night as I turn to grab an empty tumbler and a bottle of bourbon.
I stand at the kitchen island and pour myself a finger before throwing it back.
Downing it in one go, I relish the silky burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat.
I pour another two fingers and carry the glass with me as I climb the stairs to the second floor, making my way to my room with ease in the dark.
Taking another swallow of the bourbon, I set the glass on the counter in the bathroom. As I strip out of my clothes and wait for the water to heat, I take in my reflection in the mirror.
Dim green eyes stare back at me through the mirror, the lines in my face revealing my exhaustion from the day’s work.
I may be physically exhausted, but my mind is still awake, running a mile a minute with thoughts of Oakley and what she might be doing right now.
I should have gone and checked on her like I was planning to after work.
The need to set eyes on her, to make sure she’s okay, eats at me as I wait for the water to heat.
Maybe I should take Brandon and Justin up on their offer to go out tonight.
I’m already drinking, and with the distance between us now, I feel a little bad about the way I snapped at them in the truck.
I know they were only teasing. Their relentless invitations to go out is their way of letting me know they’re thinking about me.
They may be annoying, but they truly are the best friends a guy could hope for, never failing to pull me out of my broodiness whenever I’m with them.
It’s been a while since I went to the bar.
It’s been even longer since I left the bar with someone.
Maybe that’s what I need. Someone to distract me and get Oakley out of my system and off my mind.
I can’t remember the last time I brought a woman home, and if I’m being honest, my fist isn’t cutting it anymore.
Each release leaves me feeling more hollow and empty than I was before.
Hookups aren’t really my thing anymore, but one night couldn’t hurt, could it?
With the shower still running, I walk back into the bedroom and grab my cell, scrolling through the recent calls until I find the number I’m looking for.
It rings once before Justin’s muffled voice shouts at me from the other end.
Thundering country music screams at me through the receiver so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my ear before it blows an eardrum.
“What’s up, dude? You change your mind?” Justin’s voice is hopeful, a little slurred, and I can already tell he’s likely on his third or fourth drink already.
“Who all’s there?”
“The usual. Except Isaac came out tonight, too. Guess the missus let him off his chain tonight.” He pauses, and I hear the audible swallow of the beer before he continues. “Your girl’s here too.”
I pause, thinking I’ve misheard him, and he waits, his silence baiting me into asking the question he knows I’m trying not to ask.
“She is?” I don’t bother correcting his use of the phrase “your girl.”
“Come find out for yourself.” The call ends with a click.
I hop in the shower and wash away the day’s worth of sweat and grime before throwing on a clean set of clothes and running my fingers through my hair. Should I shave?
A shadow of stubble covers my jaw, but I leave it. My nervous excitement urging me to leave the house as soon as possible. I toss back the rest of the bourbon and make my way downstairs, calling Bandit in before I grab my keys and head back out into the night.