“Oh,” he said as if he was surprised. “I just told your father that you’d be in some legal trouble if you broke your contract.”
My jaw opened a little bit.
“Uh, you have some balls, you know that?”
“Oh, I know.” He grinned to himself.
“I’m serious. That’s like…that’s like threatening my father. My father does not take threats well. Believe me.”
Dex looked at me, turning his head to the side. “You give your parents too much credit. Your dad is just a dude. He may be your big, scary father but to me he’s just a man who likes his wine, indulges in hypocrisy on a daily basis, and does what he can to be the main provider of the house. He responded just like I thought he would, like any man would. To reason. To logic. If you backed out of the contract, ShowNet would take action. You can’t break it without just cause and the fact that you haven’t figured out how to have a proper relationship with your parents is not just cause. Sometimes you need someone on the outside to point out common sense.”
I mulled that over with a mix of emotions. I didn’t like how Dex assumed he knew my parents better than I did, and I didn’t appreciate his condescending opinion on our relationship. He knew nothing about me and my parents – he hadn’t been here, growing up in this house, dealing with all the shit we had to deal with. But on the other hand…it worked.
I didn’t feel like giving him credit though.
“And then…” I coaxed him.
“What? He agreed. He gave me some big long spiel about how disappointed he was in you and how he raised you better than that, which I tried not to laugh at, and how this show was not a proper career and blah, blah, blah–”
“Yeah, I’ve heard enough of that today, thank you.”
“But then he came around and said it was only professional to do the right thing. Which is to keep doing the show. But you’re going to have to start paying rent here. Sorry about that.”
“What!?” I yelled, the loudness of my own voice surprising me. It didn’t surprise Dex, though. He only looked mildly apologetic.
“You’re 22. You probably should start paying rent. I have to pay my mortgage. It’s called being an adult. Responsibility.”
My fists began to clench again. I’d have a heart attack by the time this dreadful day was over.
“Thanks for the lecture, Dex. I turn 23 next week.”
He chuckled. “That’s not helping your case.”
I sighed angrily and walked over to my dresser. I spotted a vial of this herbal remedy you sprayed in your mouth every time you were upset or about to have a panic attack. It was probably all a placebo effect but that didn’t matter if it worked, did it? It was almost empty.
I sprayed it into my mouth as Dex got off of the bed and sauntered over to me, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
“Breath freshener?” he asked, taking it from my hands and reading the label over. He looked disbelieving and gave it back to me. “You’ve had quite the day, haven’t you?”
“How can you tell?” I muttered sarcastically.
“It’s written all over your face,” he said pointing at my eyes. “Those bags belong in cargo hold.”
I gave him my most withering look. “Did you come here to make things better or make things worse?”
I aimed the spray into my mouth but the nozzle was turned the other way.
I ended up squirting Dex right in the face.
He winced hard, grunted and turned away. I swear it was an accident but it was a perfect one. I burst into giggles.
He wiped his watering eyes and stepped backward.
“I guess I deserved that,” he said, blinking rapidly at me. “What’s in this, pure alcohol? No wonder it calms you down.”
He came forward again and rested his hand on my shoulder. I felt that warm current flowing between us.
“Look, kiddo, I saved your ass,” he grimaced, wiping away a tear.
“It’s a pretty big ass.”
The smile came easily to his lips, his eyes red but dancing. “We both know how I feel about your ass.”
Ah, yes. He had grabbed it while we were slow dancing at the bar in Red Fox. It was the first time anyone had complimented my bubble butt. Well, anyone of importance, that is. And just like that I was starting to get inappropriate thoughts, images and feelings in my head, swimming around in a heady circle.
And the reality, that he was in my bedroom, standing close to me, his hand on my shoulder, wasn’t helping matters either. I became aware that I hadn’t said anything and the silence was getting awkward.
I cleared my throat. “I’m thankful you saved my ass. I really am.”
He squeezed my shoulder. I stared up at his face, his strong jaw and expressively wide mouth flanked by his barely there ‘stache, his low, dark brow that sheltered those all–knowing eyes that shined like polished coffee, the way his black hair flopped lazily across his handsome forehead. Wow. Thoughts like that weren’t helping the awkwardness either.
He’s your partner you idiot, I told myself. I broke my study of him and focused on the rescue spray in my hands. “So we’re still on for this weekend?”
With his hand still on my shoulder he said, “How about right now?”
“What?”
“How fast can you pack?”
“Sorry, you didn’t answer my ‘what?’” I wasn’t supposed to be ready until Friday.
Finally he took his hand off of me. My shoulder felt cold and exposed without his comforting palm. He walked over to my closet and flung it open.
“It’s just as nineties as I thought,” he said to himself, inspecting the haphazard contents. “Should I just start grabbing stuff? You kind of wear the same thing every day. Let’s see, we need leggings, a band t–shirt and skirt. Maybe jeans.”
I marched over to him and shut my closet door, facing him with my arms held against it like I was guarding some secret passage. “Seriously, where could we possibly be going tonight? Also, I wear my band shirts to sleep.”
“I’ve seen you wear them at other times. Weren’t you wearing a Kings of Leon shirt last week?”
“Dex!” I said through gritted teeth. I hated KOL with a passion. And also, he was pissing me off with his avoidance.
He yawned. Don’t tell me he was bored?