I laugh and say, “You don’t stink at all actually.”
“Liar.” I catch her dimple when she says this with a slight grin.
“I’ll be right back,” I respond and then head upstairs to my bedroom. I pull out a pair of my long pajama pants and an old UW shirt.
“You need socks?” I holler down to her.
“Please. It’s cold.”
When I walk back downstairs, I hand her the clothes and show her to the guest bathroom.
“Thanks. Just give me a few minutes.”
“Take your time,” I say as I close the door and return to the living room.
Sitting back on the couch, I turn on the TV and start flipping through the channels. When I hear the bathroom door open, I watch her walk towards me. She’s gripping the fabric of the pants, trying to keep them from dragging on the floor. My pants and t-shirt swallow her up and hang on her, but she’s adorable as hell.
Seeing her in my clothes—I like it. And in this moment, I pretend that she’s mine because I want her to be. I can’t figure out why. Why this girl? All I know is, when I’m not with her, I want to be.
She sits down on the couch with me, but not close enough. Her hair is still in a bun, and I grab it, wanting to make her laugh, and tease, “This is cute.”
Ducking her head, she says, “Whatever,” as she swats at my hand, and gives me what I want—her smile.
“Come here,” I say as I lean back into the couch and she follows, settling herself in my arms when I wrap them around her. “So, what happened?” I ask, wanting to know what made her so upset earlier.
“I have this tough piece of music,” she starts to explain. “I’m having a hard time connecting with it. My instructor keeps telling me what I need to fix, but I don’t really know how. It’s frustrating. I can perfect my moves, but I don’t know how to get into this piece.”
“So she just bashed you the whole time?”
“It’s how she is. But the fact that she even came in to work with me is unheard of. She’s extremely stern, but she’s only trying to help me.”
“I didn’t like seeing you upset,” I admit to her.
When she looks up at me, she says, “It’s not a big deal, really.”
“I didn’t like it,” I repeat, wanting her to know that I feel for her in a way that seeing her like that bothered me. I keep my eyes on her, and when I sense her feeling uncomfortable, she looks away from me and I ask, “You want that cup of coffee?”
“That’d be great; I’m still really cold.”
“There are some blankets in the trunk by the fireplace,” I tell her as I walk into the kitchen. I watch her move around the room as I quickly brew her a cup of coffee. “How do you take it?” I ask as she wraps herself up in one of my blankets and sits back down on the couch.
“One sugar and really blond,” she responds from across the room.
“You getting warm?” I ask when I walk back in and hand her the cup of coffee.
“Trying too.” She cradles the mug in her hands and takes a slow sip. When she turns to see what’s playing on the TV, she laughs softly under her breath.
“What’s so funny?” I question.
“You.” She looks at me when she continues. “I don’t know anyone who watches the classic movie channel, aside from you.”
“You want me to change it?”
“No, it’s fine,” she says as she shifts back on the couch, allowing me to drape my arm around her. “I’m only teasing you.”
Kicking my feet up onto the coffee table, we watch ‘The Blue Dahlia’ with her head resting on my chest.
She’s still in my clothes when I drive her to her car that’s back at the dance studio. As I pull up next to her car, I ask, “Why don’t you come up to the bar and hang out with us tonight?”
“I can’t.”
I nod my head at her response, which never changes every time I invite her to Blur.
“I’m sorry,” she tells me. “But I’m just really tired and will probably go to bed early. Plus, I have the early shift at work tomorrow.”
“Your boss doesn’t strike me as the type who would mind if you came into work a little hungover,” I joke.
“You’re probably right about that,” she says with grin. “But I’ve never drunk enough to have ever been hungover.”
“Never?” I question, shocked that this girl is so innocent that she’s never been drunk.
“Don’t act surprised,” she defends.
“I’m more relieved.” I love that she’s pure in a way. That she’s good and not tarnished like me—like all the others.
“I’m not even going to ask why,” she laughs as she shakes her head. “But thanks for today.”
“Anytime.”
“Tell Mark and Jase I said hi when you see them tonight, okay?” she says as she opens the door and gets out. When she turns to look back at me, she adds, “Thanks again for being there today. It probably would have ended up being a crappy day if I just went home.”
“Thanks for letting me be there.”
I watch as she gets into her car and drives off before backing out and heading to work. When I walk in, I make my way over to the bar and spot everyone hanging out while Mel works the bar. I’m a little surprised to see Gavin since our last run-in wasn’t all that pleasant.