Page 23 of The Biker and the Gamer
“You grew up in a pretty decent family, huh?”
“A great one,” I correct. “We weren’t rich, and we weren’t poor. Our parents just worked hard to give us a good life and I did my best to make it worth it for them.”
Her face clouds with a wistful shadow, and her gaze drops to her half-eaten burger. “I wonder what it’d be like to know the two people who made me. Mainly the woman who carried me for nine months, went through shit to birth me, and then dumped me like an old rag. Never even gave me the chance to make it worth it for her.”
“That’s because people are assholes.”
Her eyes flick up under her bangs, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “Yeah. They are.”
I’d spoken her language on purpose, mostly because I couldn’t have related otherwise. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to grow up without the love of a mother and a father. I don’t know what it’s like to have a hard life, to be hungry or abused. My entire life experience has been positive. It’s one of the reasons Cedric and I work with so many charities and fundraisers for the underprivileged, to show gratitude and share the kindness that life has shown us with others.
“Is Eric your only sibling?” she asks.
“No, I have another brother. I call him Slytherin Sibling.”
She snickers. “I don’t even wanna know why. But I do wanna meet him. Sounds like my kinda guy.”
Quickly shutting down her fantasies, I tell her, “He’s twenty.”
Choose me. You’re not even my kind of girl and I chose you.
She waves me off. “Age is nothing but a thang.”
Forking my salad around, I ask her, “Why are you single?”
“Because relationships are restrictive and I wanna do what I wanna do.”
“Does doing what you ‘wanna do’ entail kissing other men?”
She makes a face. “Of course not.”
“Flirting, sexting, spending a lot of time with other men?”
“What? No.”
“Then what makes that restrictive?”
“‘Boyfriends’ were always tryna tell me what to do, who I can or can’t speak to, where I can or can’t go to hang out, what I should or shouldn’t wear. Always tryna keep me to themselves. Put limits on my capabilities... I couldn‘t deal with all that, so I just quit relationships. Simple.”
Spearing a piece of salmon with my fork, I lift it to my mouth and chew slowly, studying her for a few beats. “I don’t think relationships are the problem. I think it’s the men you date. Controlling men.”
Her expression changes completely. Defensive. Guarded. “You’re saying I’ve got shit taste in men? As opposed to what, you?”
Ouch. But she’s Kendra Tisdale, what do I expect? “Nope. Just challenging your claim that relationships are restrictive.”
She crosses her arms and juts her chin, defiant. “Well, since you’re such an advocate for relationships, why aren’t you in one?”
“I was for three years,” I tell her. “Up until eleven months ago when I found out she was cheating on me.”
A flash of sympathy crosses her face, but still in defensive mode, she quips, “What, she got tired of you insisting on dressing yourself?”
Smartass. “Maybe. But I also overheard her telling her friend that I wasn’t ‘alpha’ enough.”
“She didn’t figure that out by the third date?”
“I think it’s those romance novels she started reading. Got in her head.” I knock back a mouthful of Monster. “But anyway, she found her alpha male. Her tattooed bad boy. Cheated on me with him for five months. Then, three months after I broke up with her, she was crying on my doorstep, begging for help. Her bad boy alpha had knocked her up and ghosted her.”
She uncrosses her arms and leans in. “Please tell me you slammed the door in her face.”
