Page 18 of The Other Guy

But still… if she were anyone else, I’d have stared. Have noticed.

Did stare.

Did notice.

A few freckles dot the bridge of her nose and apples of her cheeks. A little bit of makeup on her eyes, but not overly done. Something on her lips to make them look shiny and a little pink. Last night they were bright red — but I like this better. More natural. It feels like it’s more her. And I don’t even know her.

I shift in my seat, realizing that I’ve just spent the last five minutes driving in silence as I think about all the things that turn me on about my passenger who’s dating someone seriously enough that she thinks he’s the one.

Shit.

Her scent, like she made pancakes and bacon for breakfast, permeates the air between us. Even spending an hour in a sweaty gym didn’t diminish her sweetness.

I clear my throat and glance at her again. Sierra reaches over and changes the radio station. Like she’s done it a million times with me. Like she doesn’t need to ask if it’s okay. Adjusts the heater then when she’s satisfied goes back to looking out the window as the trees and buildings pass by. Soon I realize I’m no longer driving us to the ice cream place, which is good because I doubt it’d be open anyway. In fact, I’m driving to Liberty, my hometown. Or what I consider to be my hometown anyway.

She wanted ice cream. Or maybe just dessert. And no one makes better dessert than my father’s pastry chef, Christine, at my dad’s restaurant Balance. Or what she makes for her own coffee shop, Dreamin’ Beans, that’s right next door. Either way, her sweet tooth will definitely be satisfied.

Shit.

Again.

Now I’m driving her thirty minutes out of town to a place where my entire family will be and will ask a million questions and I’ve known this girl for a hot second? No.

I pull over to the side of the road when it’s safe. She looks over at me as if she knows exactly what’s been going through my head for the past however long I’ve been driving. A little smirk plays on her pink lips that she’s rubbing together.

“Engine trouble?”

“Yup.”

“Must be serious.”

I nod. “Probably is.”

“Seems like it would be.”

“Yeah.”

“Better get somewhere to have it looked at, huh?” She makes a big showing of tapping the dash then falls into a fit of giggles.

“We probably should. Not safe to be on the road, you know?”

“Oh, I know. Not safe at all.” Her slow wink and sassy tone tells me she knows absolutely without a doubt what I was thinking about. Probably didn’t help that I know my eyes strayed to her legs about every thirty seconds. Hoping that her baggy joggers would somehow become… less baggy. Ugh. I need to get laid. Right? That’s what this is? I’ve been put in the middle of the Garden of Eden with all the texts and pictures I’ve been sent for the last several weeks and a man can only handle so much before he just… needs.

More.

Needs more of…

Dammit!

Before I can stop myself from looking like an idiot, I push open my driver’s door and step outside, shoving my hands through my hair, I walk around a few seconds. Pacing back and forth on the side of the road. Taking in a deep breath of brisk air.

This is what those Gifs and memes are talking about with the whole ‘that escalated quickly’ comments. It did. Last night I was annoyed by her. Not like in a bad way, I suppose. But still annoyed. Or confused by her maybe? I don’t know what I was but it wasn’t… this. Turned on is what I am.

Turned on by the woman I met and talked with for just a few minutes and worked out with this morning, even though working out isn’t exactly what she did. And, because I need another reminder, she’s taken. Taken. Permanently, the way it sounds.

I’m not a cheater. Not someone who would ever be with someone who is promised to another. Which is why I’m able to clear my head and shake off the feeling of being attracted to her. She doesn’t even live here anyway.

One more deep breath and my mind is back to normal.

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