Page 27 of Heat Wave
“Oh my God. What was I thinking?”
“Well, at first I thought you might be confusing me with Terry, but I don’t think you kiss Terry like you were kissing me.”
I couldn’t be more embarrassed.
“So…all we did was…kiss?” I become hugely aware of the fact that I am sitting on his lap in nothing but a thin sheet. And that, apparently, I took a shower with him!
“Well, you did ask me to sleep with you.”
I rear back so far if he hadn’t been holding me so tightly, I would have fallen in the floor.
“Like…sleepover-sleep-with-me?”
“No, I’m pretty sure you were after something a little less PG-13.” Oh, God! I’m going to puke! The wispy memory of me asking him to…
“I’m going to be sick.”
“No worries. I knew you were too drunk.”
Too drunk? What the hell does that mean? If I hadn’t been drunk and asked him to…he would have…? Lucy’s words from last night drift through my head, and I put my hand out to push away from him.
“You…you would do that just to what? Make your sister happy? Help everyone think we really are together?” His brows slowly start to rise. “How many times have you had to ‘sell’ a story, Waylon? How many times do you take drunken girls home with you?”
“Counting you - two. Both times were with the same person! You! Of course, I don’t go out trolling for drunk women to take home. What kind of person do you think I am?”
“I don’t know because I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t anymore.” I jump up from his lap to put space between us, and this time he lets me go. “Maybe Terry was right, and I’m just a means to an end to you. Maybe you have no problem using me.”
“What the hell, Oakley? If I wanted to use you, I would have fucked you last night when you asked me to!”
“Oh my God! I…”
“Fuck!” He grabs my hand and brings it up to his face so he can take a better look. The knuckles are bruised and split in some places.
“Oh God! Did I hit you?”
“No, sweetheart, you didn’t hit me.”
Thinking makes my head hurt, but I try to remember why my hand is like this. It certainly looks like I hit…something.
“You slugged that asshole Tommy.”
“Oh. Well, that’s…not so bad.”
“You started a bar fight, too.” My eyes widen at this newest nugget of information.
“I started a bar fight?” What kind of monster am I? “Am I going to get you in trouble?”
“No, baby. You’re not going to get me in any trouble, but I want to make sure that hand is wrapped and taken care of properly.”
Tears prickle against my eyes, causing them to sting and burn as he swoops me up and takes me into the bathroom to fix my hand. I was such a bitch to him, and yet he still takes care of me.
“Thank you. For everything.” I lean forward and offer a quick kiss. “For taking care of me, especially.”
I kiss him more fully and wrap my arms around his neck. I’m trying to say I’m sorry, but I'm not sure if he can tell that's what I am doing. When I pull back, he runs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“It’s entirely my pleasure, Oakley. Entirely.”
I think he can tell, but I want to be sure.
