Page 37 of Stroked
I slammed my beer down. “What? I talk toyou. I talked you through some dark shit. I even talked toJason.” I grimaced at the thought of the lengthy conversation we had when he begged to know where she had run off to after he stormed out in her time of need.
“Yeah, because your life wasn’t affected.Oryour heart.”
“Oh my God, can you stop with the lovey dovey stuff? Just because you’re marrying BDE over there doesn’t mean everyone has googly eyes.”
“See, you keep making excuses. But if you really didn’t give a shit, you wouldn’t have texted her. In fact, you wouldn’t have let her go to your apartment, or seen her again. And you can talk all the shit you want…I saw the way you looked at her in the lobby of the gallery before everything went to shit.” Lucy stopped as Jaz walked over with a basket of nachos piled with, at least, five toppings and loads of cheese. Even though she was aggravated with me, she pushed the basket closer to me and nodded to it.
“Okay, maybe I kinda like her.” I grabbed a nacho, trying to keep the toppings from falling all over the bar. “I honestly don’t know how to deal. She’s hardcore in the closet. I asked if she wanted to talk, and she immediately asked if we could talk at my place.” I chewed the nacho, considering everything I just said. “How do you have a secret relationship? I thought the point of a relationship was to hang out together, go get food, see bands, ya know, date?” I put my palm up with a shrug.
“Well, I dunno. But if you like her, you, at least, owe it to yourself to talk to her. Maybe you can work it out. Or maybe, after talking, you may both realize it won’t work. But we’re adults now, whether we want to admit it or not. A lot of shit could’ve been prevented with me and Jason if we both had just talked about things.”
I nodded. They both had their own hangups and issues, and both had their own part to play in their brief break, or whatever you call it. But after admitting to themselves what they wanted and what scared them, they worked it out.
We sat quietly as we pounded our beers and nachos. Maybe Valentina and I just needed to lay out what we wanted, and our fears, and see what happened from there.
Chapter 20
Valentina
I was so nervous. I hardly slept again and woke early. I shopped for supplies to prepare a nice meal today, and since I couldn’t sleep, I got to baking early. I also decided on lasagna for dinner since it was easy to carry and reheat. Plus, regardless of nationality, most people loved lasagna. I also made some Cesar dressing for a salad, even though I had some bottled. Keeping my hands busy helped me gather my thoughts.
As I stirred and layered and chopped, I went over the different things I could say and how to say them. I popped the lasagna in the oven once the cake was done, and suddenly, I was out of things to do with my hands.
Leaning against the counter as my clammy hands slid off the edge, I took a deep breath.Why was I so flustered?I barely knew this woman. Clearly, we had nothing in common; the catastrophe only happened on Thursday because we knew so little of each other. Still, not seeing her since then ate at me. And not touching her even longer than that created an ache deep in my bones.
Why was this happening to me?
After grabbing a hand towel to dry my sweaty hands, I made another espresso since I couldn’t sleep the last few days. Not that the excessive amount of caffeine was helping at all. My thoughts were so scattered that I convinced myself more coffee would keep me alert and help later when I was with her. But it likely would just give me the shakes.Or was that from her?
After too much coffee and pulling dinner from the oven, I checked emails, replied on social media accounts for my clients, and sent some texts to follow up with them and check in. Suddenly, laundry seemed to be nagging at me, so I threw a load in. When I got the urge to clean my fridge, I realized I was now stalling.
You wanted to talk to her, Val. After closing the doors to the fridge, I went to freshen up and change. Dress? Was that too obvious? It’s hot as hell outside. But maybe I shouldn’t go for sexy today. But why not? Jeans? Or was that sexy to her? Shit. I couldn’t even decide on a simple outfit for dinner.
Furiously pushing clothes in the closet from side to side, I finally reached in and yanked down whatever my hand wrapped around first.
A nice floral maxi-dress. Cute, not too sexy, comfortable. I slid my feet into some low wedges, went to comb my long hair, and put just a dab of perfume on. Something about it made me feel powerful, in control. Plus, it seemed to suit me. Some women switched their fragrances by seasons or even moods. But I preferred to keep my jasmine and vanilla year-round because it matched me somehow. At least, I thought so.
After collecting the meal, I prepared into my nice tote, I hopped in the car and headed up the highway. I was going to be at least an hour early, but I couldn’t sit any longer.
Pulling into a space near Amy’s complex, I sat in the cool car for several minutes to calm my nerves. Instead of getting calm, it only made my heart race faster and the knots in my stomach grow tighter. Expelling a huge sigh, I turned off the car and reached for the tote. When I turned to open my door, a figure was standing next to it. I yelped before the figure leaned down.Amy.
The hand that flew to my chest reached for the door. “Amy, you startled me.”
“Well, I was walking back from the store and saw you sitting here, so I came over. Or should I scamper upstairs before someone sees me speaking to you?” Her expressionless face stared down at me.
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to make this easy.
“No, I just was not expecting to see you out here, that is all.” I slid from the car, pulling the tote out. “Shall we?”
Amy turned and I followed her inside. The elevator ride was tense and quiet, besides the screeching and bumping sounds, as we were whisked to her floor. As we entered her apartment, I found myself less confident and comfortable than earlier in the week, and stood just inside the door, holding the large tote that became heavier with each second.
“You can come inside. I don’t expect you to stand there all night,” Amy said as she went to the kitchen and pulled wine from the bag she was holding. “I didn’t know what dinner was, so I grabbed a red and a white. Not that you have to drink if you don’t want to.”
My voice went up two pitches. “No, a glass would be great.” Anything to tamper the nerves would be great.
Touching you would be great.
She motioned for me to come into the small kitchen area, so I obliged, placing the tote on the counter and finally giving my arms a reprieve. My travel containers were glass with heavy rubber lids and the pound cake wasn’t named such for no reason.
