Page 22 of Some Like 'Em Burly
“Oh. Good.” Duke smiles at me, so warm and sweet, and I pretend not to see Meg’s knowing look over by her bed. It’s an obvious lie: I only have one suitcase, after all, and it’s already pushed beneath my bed frame, but she’s kind enough not to call me out on it.
“Dinner,” she says loudly, clapping her hands together. My chin drops, and I pick at a loose thread on my leggings.
That came around so fast. And Duke probably won’t stick around much longer after that, will he? So this is it. Goodbye.
Will he visit again soon? Often, maybe? Will he chat to me when he does? I fiddle with that loose thread, my stomach twisted with longing, and I’ve barely known this man for an hour, but already I’m gonna miss him more than my own parents. He’s certainly shown more interest in me.
“Italian or Mexican?” Meg asks. There’s a long, awkward pause. “Clementine? Italian or Mexican?”
“Oh!” I sit up straighter, flushing with pleasure, because it never occurred to me that I’d be invited. When was the last time I ate dinner at a restaurant? A real one, without a drive-through attached?
Not that I’ll be picky. If Duke and Meg want fast food, I’m in. So in. It’ll be kinder on my bank balance, anyway.
“Um.” They’re both looking at me—Meg’s head cocked, Duke so patient. He pushes his big hands into his jeans pockets, likehe’d happily wait hours for me to untwist my tongue. “I love both. You guys pick. Um, are you sure it’s okay for me to join?”
“Yes,” they both say in unison, and the family resemblance is strong in this moment. They’re both determined, shoulders braced like I might argue with them. Meg stares at me sternly, like she’s daring me to lie about having other plans, and Duke…
Duke raises an eyebrow. It’s a secret gesture just for me. My fingers tremble as I press my hands against my thighs.
“Mexican,” I rasp.
Duke’s mouth quirks up at the corner. Lord, what I’d do to make him smile like that again. “My favorite. Okay, let’s head out before all the good tables are gone.”
Jumping up, I wobble to the faded old backpack by my desk. My legs are stiff from sitting for so long, and pins and needles prickle through my calves. I’m rummaging for my wallet when Duke calls to me from the doorway.
“Leave that, Clementine. I’ll get you back here safe and fed, I promise.”
I shouldn’t, I know that. I really shouldn’t rely on a man I just met; shouldn’t impose on him like that. Shouldn’t be a bother.
“Come on, honey,” he says softly, and just like that, my feet carry me to the door without permission. Duke snags my jacket from the hook and hands it to me before closing the door behind us. It’s quiet out here now, all the yelling from earlier transferred to some other part of campus.
Meg stretches her arms above her head, her spiked up dark hair flopping to one side, and she grins when our eyes meet.
“It’s gonna be a good year, Clementine. I can feel it.”
* * *
Dear diary,
I met a man today.Theman, you know? The only man to ever make my body hum to life. When his eyes were on me, my heart thumped harder. My skin flushed warm. Even the tiny hairs on my arms prickled upright.
Obviously, he’s off limits. Way too old for me. My roommate’s dad? Who am I kidding? Even if he wanted me too—yeah, right—we could never act on it. That’d make me such a jerk.
But a crush doesn’t hurt anybody, does it?
That’s all this is. My first ever crush.
I’m sure it’ll fade in no time.
Duke
Present day
Tonight’s gig is on a riverboat: an open-topped steamer packed with finely-dressed folks, the tables laid for dinner under the stars. My piano’s in the center of the top deck, exposed to the breeze and the damp mist of river water, but I don’t mind. It’s not my instrument to fret over, and besides, even if the acoustics are weird outdoors, it’s worth it on such a beautiful night.
Knives and forks clink. Champagne corks pop. There’s a low hum of conversation, and I play gently in the background. Tonight’s not about drawing attention—it’s about creating a mood.
The steamer drifts along the river, nudging a path through watery fields of lily pads. Gators sink beneath the surface, their eyes reflecting the boat lights before they wink out.
