Page 29 of Grease Monkey
“It’s fine,” I say, dropping her hips and creating space between us. It doesn’t feel fine, though. That word is like a chain tied tightly around my lungs. But wasn’t I just complaining that I didn’t get to see her as much as I wanted? It’s just, the wordboyfriendmeans relationship and… and… fuck. I need air. I take another step away from Ana, hurt flashing in her eyes as I thumb over to Shay. “I better get her signed in. If I knew she was going to come earlier, I’d have had her paperwork all ready for her. You guys gonna be okay to get home? I’m going to have to stay late now to get her into the system so I can’t drive you back.”
Fuck, I’m a dick when I’m freaking out.
Ana’s face falls, and I hate that I’m the cause of it. But I can’t be around her right now.
“Oh, right. Yeah, erm, okay. Don’t worry about it,” she says with more bite than I’m used to. “Shay, I’ll be outside.”
I want to stop her from leaving, but she’s out and around the corner before my mouth has time to catch up to my brain. I sigh and drag myself over to where Harry is flirting his ass off with Shay, and grab a clipboard and pen, holding them out.
“Put your details here; number, address, service history, and Harry will start on it tomorrow,” I say, thrusting the board into her hands. “Harry, I’m going to call Ms. Smith and let her know she can collect her car. You good here?”
Harry grins and nods enthusiastically as I head to my dad’s office to make the call. I really should check on Ana, apologize to her for being a jackass, but I’m not in the mood to talk. At least not until I get my head straight.
Tossing the baseball upward, I contemplate letting the damn thing smack me in the face. It’s the least I deserve too. Even Harry—the King of Sluts—said he understood why I was so hung up over Ana, saying if he had met her first, he’d have fucked her so hard she’d have trouble walking. That made me want to crash my fist into his face so hard he’d have a dent in the shape of my fist until that made me realize I’m so far gone for this girl I hadn’t realized it. No point in even trying to deny it. So why did “boyfriend”make me want to run with my tail between my legs and hide?
The ball thuds into my hand, and I spin it in the air again. I never catch feelings. I mean, I always duck out when a girl gets too close—hence the whole Brittany bullshit—and being on this end sucks ass. Catching the ball, I set it on my comforter and grab my phone.
Teddy:Can we talk?
Ana:If Shay freaked you out earlier and you want to stop seeing me, you can say that over text.
Shit.
Teddy:I’m sorry, okay? Yeah, I freaked, and I shouldn’t have. Please come over. I want to see you.
I stare at the message, and then a few others, the words bold and black, and how was it not obvious before?
She doesn’t reply, and I get the sinking feeling I’ve fucked everything up before it’s really even begun. Lying back down, I resume tossing the baseball until a soft knock sounds at my closed bedroom door.
“Come in,” I yell, not taking my eyes off the red stitching.
“Hey.” Ana’s beautiful face pops around the door, and I turn, narrowly missing my head as I forget all about the ball above me. “Your mom let me in. That wasn’t awkward at all trying to explain why I was here to see her son.”
Scrambling off the bed, I make the two steps needed to open the door fully and slide my hands into her thick blonde hair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say, my relief palpable as we lock eyes. I press my lips to hers, then link our hands together, kicking the door closed and tugging her to my bed. The concept is still foreign. And even though I always sneak into her place, I’ve been subconsciously trying to avoid her being here. But as she sits, legs tightly pressed together, nothing has ever felt more right. I join her on the bed, shifting back against the headrest, and pat the space beside me. She eyes the gap, but remains still. I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her around as she squeaks until she’s nestled between my legs.
I can tell she’s nibbling her lip, and I reach forward and pull it out with my thumb.
“I’m sorry I was an ass earlier,” I say, burying my nose in the crook of her neck. “I—”
“Freaked out?”
I exhale a laugh, her hair fluttering against my breath. “Yeah.”
“I never told Shay that you were my boyfriend,” she says, shifting out of my hold and avoiding my gaze.
“I know.” Her eyes snap up, and I brush my fingers along her jaw. “Well, I didn’tknow,but I thought that would be a conversation we’d have before you said it. You know?”
I drop my hold on her face and cringe. How many times can I use the word “know” in one sentence?
“Would it really be so bad?” she asks. “To be my boyfriend?”
“Nah, it’s not that.” I sag back against the pillows and pick up her hand, playing with her fingers. “It’s just that I’ve never been someone’sboyfriendbefore, and I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”
She chuckles. “I’ve never been someone’s girlfriend before.”
“I’m not good enough for you, Ana.” The words oddly feel like a weight has been lifted. “I don’t want to stay in Connecticut. I—”
