Page 3 of Addicted to Love

“Like I wanted to eat you apparently.” That tongue darts out again, and I swear the shiver that goes through me is from a customer opening the door and not the man with the blue eyes.

Rolling my eyes, I curse Mark. How could he let his paranoia and misplaced jealousy cause this? The rich jock had no more interest in me, than I did in becoming an Olympic rhythmic gymnast.

“I’ll pass on the message.” Grabbing the now empty box, I head back to the storeroom, ignoring the way he calls my name as I walk away.

The next day I’m on a closing shift, meaning I start in the afternoon, and I’ll be helping Tiffany lock up once she cashes up. When I leave the trailer, my father is back to his usual spot on the sofa, eyes glassy as he gets high and watchesCheerswith his hand lodged into a bag of Cheetos, scattering orange dust everywhere as he laughs.

I grimace as I walk past him and leave to catch the bus, he doesn’t even acknowledge me, which suits me just fine. I don’t think he’d notice if I left, not really, not until they were trying to kick him out of the trailer or there was no electricity and he was plunged into darkness without his TV.

Today I’m wearing a plaid skirt, an oversized black shirt that’s off the shoulder and knee-high black socks, finished off with black boots. Debbie Harry was one of my style icons, and it was cheaper and easier to pull off a grungy, punk look rather than trying to be something I’m not. Preppy and stylish was for girls with money, and most of my clothes were hand-me-downs or from thrift stores. My ashy blonde hair is pulled up with a scrunchie, and as I get off the bus and walk to Tape World, I find myself walking in tempo with how my ponytail swings. Or am I swinging my hair in time to my footsteps? Either way, it’s something little and silly that seems to perk me up...that is until Rich Boy grins at me from where he’s waiting, leaning with one foot resting against the wall.

I click my tongue, before approaching him. “Why are you here, Rich Jock?”

His forehead creases, as he pushes himself off the wall. “Rich what?”

Raising a brow at him, I shoot him a look. “You heard me.”

“Well, yeah. But I’m not a jock.” He motions at his outfit, today he’s wearing a navy short-sleeved shirt to accommodate his cast and a pair of light jeans. “And my name is Luke.”

“Hmmm,” I say, looking him up and down, unconvinced. I didn’t need to know his name either, since I had nothing to do with the fight and I couldn’t tell him where Mark was even if I wanted to. “All that’s missing is a letterman jacket. Where is it?”

He runs a hand through his dishevelled dark hair, and looks amused as he replies, “At my parents’ house. I’m a little too old to go around wearing it these days.”

For some reason his answer piqued my curiosity, he looked like he was a similar age to me or possibly even a little younger. College boys had started flooding back to Pine Grove for the summer holidays, so I had assumed he was just another one of those meatheads. “How old are you?” I lift a hand. “No, wait. I don’t care.”

“But you do.” He flashes me another smile, and I resist the urge to smile back. Why was his grin infectious? “I’m twenty-six.”

“Baby face, lucky for some.” He’s older than I expected, and that makes me a little uncomfortable. I don’t know what he wants from me, but my messy life had no space for grown-up rich boys. I didn’t need to feel inferior or like I hadn’t accomplished anything by a stranger I met in a bar fight. Putting my hand on the door, I’m done with the little game we were playing.

Luke grabs my wrist softly with his good hand. “Wait, where are you going?”

I glance up at the TapeWorld sign, emphasising the obvious. “To work. You should try getting a job sometime.”

He clearly had too much free time if he was hanging around waiting for me two days in a row. Rich boys had no worries clearly, that must be nice. I wonder what he did during his days when he wasn’t bugging me?

He rolls his eyes. “Funny. You don’t start for another 10 minutes, I checked with your boss, so let’s talk.”

“Talk? What’ve we been doing so far?” I place my hand over his, preparing to remove his fingers, ignoring the fact that he seemed to know my work rota.

Chuckling, he replies quickly, “Foreplay.”

I give him a look, but I can’t keep the hint of a smile from my face. I don’t know why talking to this guy had me tied up in knots. I mean, I could just walk away. I could threaten him with harassment. So why wasn’t I? Instead, I was replying, keeping the interaction going. “Definite creep. Want me to call mall security?”

“You wouldn’t. Besides, that’s not perverted.” Luke leans in, his mouth close to my ear as he whispers, “Perverted would be telling you that I want to roll those fucking socks down, and kiss the exposed skin, working my way up…”

I place my other hand on his shoulder and push him away before he says something I can’t unhear. Before I do something stupid. “You need to leave, before Mark breaks more than just your arm.”

He lets go of my arm, playfulness leaving his voice as he steps back like he’s suddenly just remembered I have a boyfriend. “Have you given him my number yet?”

I shrug as I open the door for a customer who’s leaving the store. “I haven’t seen him.”

Mark had been silent. It wasn’t anything new, but I was beginning to get tired of it. I wasn’t a half-knitted sweater you just picked up when you were bored. The way Luke was looking at me, part pity and part something else, reminded me of that. His kindness, his flirty smile and that damn lingering citrus smell were starting to get under my skin. Not to mention the hunger that seemed to flash in his eyes when I was being cold to him.

“Do you love him?” There’s an edge to his question, and I hesitate.

Did I love Mark? We were there for each other. We had sex. We hung out. Was that love? I mean, looking at Luke sent a flicker of electricity down my spine, but that was lust. That didn’t mean anything. Mark and I, we had a bond. He would be there for me at the end of the day. We needed each other.

I sigh, deciding to answer truthfully. “Love? Love is a luxury for rich people. It’s just another addiction that drives you crazy. And I can’t afford crazy right now.”

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