Page 12 of The Ruckup
I’m probably breaking all sorts of man-code rules by texting Maddie less than thirty minutes after last talking to her, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve seen how shit works out for someone who follows the man code, and I’m not interested in living that kind of life.
I don’t need—or want—a woman to wait on me. I don’t need a wife to make my doctors’ appointments or iron my shirts—not that I wear shirts that need ironing.
I want a fucking partner. Someone at my side. Someone to take care of. Someone to smile at me in the mornings and lay next to me at night.
Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Maddie’s bothered by my eagerness, because she responds almost immediately.
I did. My parents threw a whole set about me disappearing and said I ruined the night for them. I just dropped them off at their house after listening to them lecture me for ten minutes. Now I’m going home to sit in my pajamas and eat frosting from the tub.
I love how she doesn’t hold back either. I always hate the beginning stages of dating because you don’t really know the other person. You’re overly cautious and on your best behavior.
But I already know Maddie, and she already knows me, so there’s a level of trust right from the start.
I tap out a response. One that’s a little presumptuous on my part, but I’m not the kind of guy who beats around the bush.
You should invite me over. I also love to eat frosting from the tub.
It’s not the only thing I love to eat, but I think I'm going to cool it in the sex department for a while. Show Maddie I’m more than a pretty face and a talented tongue.
The response bubbles pop up, and I hold my breath, hoping she takes me up on the invitation I made for myself.
Fine. But you have to bring your own frosting.
A grin spreads across my face as an address pops up next. I don’t waste time. I shift my car back into gear, going straight to the closest grocery store. After dropping one of each frosting type into my cart, I add in a carton of milk—just in case—then quickly check out and get on my way.
I’m surprised to find Maddie lives just a block away from the beach in a large, upscale apartment complex. I find her building pretty easily and park next to a dark green Buick sedan with a vanity plate that has me chuckling.
PAPI69
Same, Papi. Same.
But not tonight. Tonight all I’m gonna eat is frosting while I figure out why Maddie Miller looked so fucking sad.
And then I’m gonna find a way to fix it.
5
Don’t Try to Play Abuela
Maddie
I JUMP WHEN my phone starts ringing in my hand, heart leaping into my throat, stomach crashing to my feet. It’s gotta be Leo calling to tell me he’s changed his mind and isn’t coming over after all. I should probably be relieved—uncertainty and nerves have made it hard to sit still since I extended the invitation—but I can’t stifle the disappointment settling in my gut.
I know I didn’t spend a lot of time with him tonight, but they were the best fifteen minutes I’ve had in as long as I can remember. Leo made me feel seen. He made me feel respected. Wanted.
Safe.
I can’t help but want more of that. Especially when there’s a chance I am decidedly unsafe.
Taking a deep breath to temper my turmoil of emotions, I lift my phone to connect the call. But when my eyes land on the screen, it’s not Leo’s name illuminated in the dim light of my apartment.
Now, it’s not disappointment I’m fighting, but frustration. And maybe even a little anger. Because this conversation might cause even more drama than I’m already dealing with. But I can’t ignore it. Wouldn’t even if I could.
Connecting the call, I try to force a smile into my voice. “Hi, Abuela. You’re awake late. Is everything okay?”
If I hadn’t just listened to my parents drone on about my continuously terrible life choices, I would be worried she’d fallen—or worse. But I know my grandmother isn’t calling me because she needs help.
She’s calling me to rant.
