Page 46 of Breakaway Heart
As we cruised along in Randy’s car, there was a warm feeling in my blood and a softness to the air. I wanted to just be mad at him, get out all my frustrations, and then let him go. But it didn’t feel like this was where it ended, not just yet. That there was more to it before I could feel satisfied and move on.
“You know how many people I’ve slept with since you?” He asked casually.
“Well, I guess Georgia Moss for one…”
He shook his head, as if what I’d said was ridiculous.
“Zero, Lucy.”
“Zero!? I don’t believe you,” I said, wondering if I did or not. “Hey, is that why you and Georgia broke up?”
“No.” Randall sighed heavily. “Lucy, what you said was right, I just didn’t want to admit it, but in a lot of ways, I got sex mixed up with love. I thought because I slept with people that I had love in my life, but it was empty.”
“But youlovesex, Randy. You literally said it at least ten times on television.”
“I’ve been getting a lot of things wrong, Lucy. Remember how I told you about that night I spent in a jail cell?”
“Yeah, your juvenile grand theft auto days…”
“Right. And how I’d taken a look at myself and knew I had to change?”
“Sure.”
“Well, after Love Villa, Mexico,you, it was the same thing for me. I’m not a boy who’s trying to protect himself anymore. It’s time to stop hiding. It’s time for the authentic Randall Jackson. After all I’ve done, though, who wants to love Randall Jackson now?”
“Well, you haven’t done yourself any favors. Oh, and hey! Didn’t you just try and get in my panties back there without a second’s hesitation? So, forgive me if I don’t believe a word of it.”
“It’s just… It’s different with you. I don’t know what it is about you, but it feels like something I can’t control. If I’m honest, maybe you got under my skin, Lucy.”
“Oh, so that was your idea of romance back there?” I said.
“No!Maybe? I’m sorry. For some reason, I can’t help myself. There’s this energy around you. It’s like I can’t resist it.”
His face crumpled, and he seemed so earnest that I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of pity for him. Outside the window, a sign to a late-night diner flashed up.
“Jeez, Randall, you really are a mess. C’mon, let’s get some coffee.”
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. I don’t trust myself around you with tequila.”
Randy pulled into the diner parking lot, then took out a cap from the glove compartment and pushed it downsharply over his head. I tried not to laugh when I saw it had‘USA Hockey’emblazoned across it.
“Oh, I didn’t know Bobby Holiday was coming along too?” I teased him.
He grinned back, rolled his eyes, and slipped the gold chain with his name dangling from around his neck into his shirt.
We went inside, finding the place fixed up as if the 50s had never ended, and a waitress in a pink outfit and beehive hair welcoming us.
“Well, hi there! Getcha a table for two?”
“Sure, we’ll take a booth,” Randy told her.
“Okay, hon, no problem. Get you fixed right over here in the window.”
We nestled into the booth, and Randall fumbled with a menu.
“Hey, Randy.”
