Page 63 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
I nod and turn to leave the kitchen when I think of something I can do that could chip away at the wall she’s so determined to keep between us.
“Do you have plans for lunch?” I say, facing her again.
Her brows pull together. “Just eating leftovers in the Valente cafeteria.”
“Frankie lands later this morning,” I shrug, as if my heart isn’t pounding over what I’m about to ask. “We could swing by and pick you up for lunch, if you can get away. She’s keen on seeing you.”
Piper grips her plate and stares at me. When she finally blinks, I sense the barrier between us lowering. “Yeah. I’d like that,” she says slowly, before offering a grateful smile.
“I’ll pick you up at noon, then.”
I turn to leave again, smiling to myself, before remembering something else. “Let me drive you to work this morning,” I say over my shoulder.
Piper looks at me, surprised, then chuckles. “Go surf or work on your plans for Bombora. I’m fine on the bus.”
My chest swells a bit when she saysBombora. She remembered the name. “I can do all of that after I drop you. I didn’t like the look of those guys at your bus stop yesterday.”
“We already talked about this.” Piper shakes her head and carries her plate to the table. “They’re just people trying to get to work, same as me. I don’t need a ride, but…thank you.”
Her eyes dart to mine and the softness there pulls me closer. “Come on, Piper.” I slide into the seat across from her. “Let me make up for years of harassment by making sure you’re not harassed by blokes just out of jail.”
She laughs. “You’re showing your privilege again, Arch. I appreciate your offer, but I don’t need a driver.”
Logically, I know I should trust Piper to take care of herself, but all I can picture is guys twice her size and too jaded to be intimidated by her fierceness. In the past week, I’ve gained a grudging admiration for her stubbornness, but now she’s being naïve on top of stubborn.
“Will you just let me do something nice for you, Piper?”
Slowly, she sets down her fork. Her eyes bore through me like she’s drilling for the core of who I am. “Archie, letmebe honest. I’m not sure if you’re being nice because you care or if you’re doing it to get what you want, the same way Malcolm does. So, I’m going to turn down your offer for a ride this morning, but I’d still like to do lunch with you and Frankie.”
Her words are firm and emotionless. For some reason, that hurts more than if she’d yelled. At least then I’d know she felt something more than irritation with me, especially in light of every thought I’ve had of kissing her.
Embarrassment and anger bubble in my chest, and I let my temper get the best of me. I push away from the table and walk to the back door, holding in the impending eruption as I slide open the door. “Quit mistaking me for my dad. We’re not the same.”
“Archie, I?—”
“—And try checking your own privilege. You’re living in this house for free, too, you know.” I don’t wait to hear her response. I shut the door and head for the beach.
I don’t have to trudge far through the sand before I’m deeply uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than I’ve ever been about who I am or might become. Losing my temper like I just did over something fairly minor isn’t who I want to be. After what Dad and I have both put her through, Piper has every right to be suspicious. She tried to say that as nicely as possible, and I over-reacted in a big way.
On top of that, I still haven’t shaken my worry over Piper riding the bus. Whatever her suspicions, I offered to drive herbecause I hate the idea of her being harassed, not because I want something from her.
That, at least, is one troubling thought I can do something about right now. I turn back to the house, and jog the half-mile back, slipping over sand more than once in my old Uggs. As I hurry through the back door, I hear the front door close. Piper’s just left.
I hesitate only a second before grabbing a zip-up hoodie.
Maybe Piper’s right about the guys at her bus stop—she’s obviously a better judge of character than I am—but for my own peace-of-mind, I want to make sure she’s safe. I can’t do anything once she’s on the bus, but there will be other people riding with her. That might keep any creepers from bugging her.
I pull the hood over my hair, then peek out the front door. Piper is a quarter block away. No one else is on the footpath, so I stay far behind, ducking behind a tall hedge when she crosses the street. The path paralleling Pacific Coast Highway is busier, and I’m able to hide behind other pedestrians until I can duck into the Starbucks across from Piper’s bus stop.
I spot her through the big picture window at the front of the store, along with the same guys from yesterday who are eyeing her off. She doesn’t seem to notice, but I sure as hell do—and they’re standing too close. When she casually puts distance between them and her, the flicker of irritation and worry that skitters across her face tells me she’s very aware of them. But they ignore her hints and move closer.
I step toward the door, ready to dash across the street, when an older woman slips her arm around Piper’s as if they’re old friends and gently tugs her away from the men, closer to where the bus will actually stop. The men scowl but leave Piper alone, and I sink onto a barstool.
The woman says something to Piper, who lifts her chin in a laugh, and the morning sun glints off her glasses. I wish I couldmake her laugh like that. She’s left her hair down today and it spills in loose waves over her shoulders. Her jacket is some floral, vintage thing that would look old-fashioned on anyone else, but she makes it retro cool.
“Would you like to order?” Someone says, but I’m too immersed in Piper to pay attention until I hear the same question two more times.
I push back my hood and glance at the barista behind the counter, who’s giving me a pointed look. He’s talking to me. “Oh, no. Thanks, though.”
