After dinner out at the local pizza place with some pledges, we pull up at our house, the one I grew up in, a rambling cottage-style bungalow built in the 50s. In the light of the streetlamp, I eye the late summer azaleas in the flowerbed, the ones Mom and I planted before she passed away.
A heavy feeling settles on my chest. God, I miss her. Sometimes I forget she’s gone and half expect her to be inside, waiting on me so we can have one of our long chats. She’d know exactly what to do about Dad and Margo and Ryker.
“What’s that next to the door?” Charisma asks me as we step onto the stone porch. She’s ahead of me and bends down to pick it up. Turning to face me, she holds up a bag of suckers with a note stuck to it. “Oooo, it has your name on it,” she says, waving it at me.
I take the note from her and read the sloping masculine scrawl.
I came by at 8:00. I guess you stood me up. Makes sense. I hope we’re even now. Anyway, I thought of you when I saw these.
Later, Ryker.
The R is prominent and dominates his signature, big and cocky just like he is.
“Why is he leaving you your favorite candy?” Charisma ponders, an inquisitive look on her face. “Have y’all talked and you didn’t tell me?”
“No.” My brow wrinkles, a memory tugging at me, and then it dawns on me and I groan. “Oh my God, he texted me earlier, but I didn’t know who it was…” I whip out my phone and reread the messages while she takes them in from beside my shoulder. I recall the phone number he tossed down on my serving tray at Sugar’s, but it got dumped out along with everything else. Then I remember giving him my number. “These must be from him.” I rub my forehead.
She chuckles. “WTF? You told him you wanted him.”
Mortification flies over me. “Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t know it was him. I thought he was some lonely guy pining after some girl.” My face reddens. “I thought I was helping someone out with his relationship woes.”
“That would be a BFN—big fat no.” She holds the bag of suckers up to the porch light. “Look, he drew something on the side of the bag.”
I take the candy from her and study the sketch. It’s a creature with a long neck, small ears, and an oblong body with fuzzy stick legs drawn in black
marker.
“I can’t figure out what that is supposed to be.” She looks at me. “Is he deranged? Should we call the cops?”
“No.” A small laugh comes from me. “It’s a llama.” “Oh?”
I shrug. “Inside joke.”
 |
Lying in bed later, I’m reading a romance book about a pirate, but my gaze keeps going to the note and the bag of candy on my nightstand. With a sigh, I put down the book and pick up the note—for the third time—tracing my finger over the confident strokes of his penmanship. The candy was a nice touch, but it hardly excuses what he did.
I nibble on my lip, thinking back to the sorority meeting and how Margo vowed she’d get Ryker to attend. He did say he wanted to make up for what happened, so what if I invited Ryker to the party? I mean, I can also ask Connor, but if I wrangled Ryker then everyone would know the bet fiasco is over and didn’t bother me at all. I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed, and everyone would think we’re…friends.
But that’s just silly, my inner voice says. You hate him.
Do I?
YES, YOU DO.
But my fingers aren’t listening as I grab my phone and type out a message to him.
Got your note. We’re not even close to being even, Baby Llama. And before when I was texting you, I didn’t know who you were. I was just messing around.
I don’t get a response for several minutes and am about to put my phone back down when I see the three little dots that tell me he’s responding.
I still want to make it up to you.
Visions of him ravishing me on my bed come to mind. I squash those thoughts down.
How? I ask.
I’ll explain tomorrow. It’s midnight and I need to be at practice by six. That means breakfast is at five fifteen.
Oh! I didn’t realize he was so…conscientious. I guess I pictured him with two girls on either side, being rubbed down with oil as he drifts off to sleep.
Sorry I woke you, I text.
You didn’t. I was lying here thinking about you.
A sizzle of heat ripples through me. Damn that sizzle.
Oh, so you’re alone?
Uh-huh. You? Or is Connor there?
My teeth grit. I hate that he knows I have a crush on him.
Just me. I throw a glance over at Vampire Bill. At night, I put his cage in here. He doesn’t like to sleep alone. Neither do I. And you need to forget about Connor, I add.
Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Good night, Penelope. I’ll find you tomorrow.
Find me tomorrow…?
I stare at my name typed by his fingers…and it feels surreal that I’ve just had a decent conversation with him.
Still, I’m not sure I’ll talk to him when I see him.
With a sigh, I pick back up my pirate romance, and before long I’m asleep, dreaming of my own blond, curly-hair-chested pirate.
