Page 103 of Hopeless
“And don’t wear a frilly little dress, Bailey. We’re taking my bike.”
The thought of spending an hour pressed up against Beau makes my cheeks burn brighter. Still, I hold my head high as I walk away, through the spacious house and toward the stairs that lead up to my room.
I’ve started keeping all my clothes there, even though my trailer is pretty much on his front lawn.
That’s another thing we haven’t talked about. The heat wave is over, and yet here we are. Still living together.
It feels a little like the straw house we built is starting to tumble.
I don’t need the air conditioning, and yet I’m still here.
I don’t need another job, and yet I’m still here.
I don’t need to go out with Beau tonight, and yet I do.
I hold him close, the wind whipping against us as we race down the highway into the city.
At every stoplight, he reaches back and rubs my calf until it turns green again.
And nothing about any of it feels fake.
29
Beau
Willa:Talked to my dickhead brother. Just drop your names at the door. His name is Ford Grant Jr., and you can ask for him if you run into any problems.
Beau:Junior?
Willa:Yeah. Emphasis on the junior. It’s his favorite.
Beau:For some reason I don’t believe you. But thanks, Wils. I owe you one.
Willa:Cool. Actually, you can pull the little hairs at the back of his neck and say it’s from me. He loves it.
Beau:I will not be doing that. But I’ll tell him you send your love.
Willa:Lol. Yeah. Tell him that. That’s even funnier.
It’s dark out by the time we hit the city. I got caught up with work today and didn’t make it back home until later than I thought I would.
Bailey presses against my back, her arms wrapped tight around my waist. She squeezes tighter every time we take off from a standstill, and it makes me want to stop and go all night.
I know she wasn’t super keen on the bike. In fact, her words were, “Don’t get us killed, soldier. Things are finally looking up for me.”
And then she swung a leg over and hung on for dear life.
I revel in the feel of her against my body, in the knowledge that she trusts me with her life. Cocooning her in my bed last night stuck with me all day, and I’m not above admitting part of the reason I wanted to do this tonight was to have her close again.
I want her to sleep with me again too. But asking for that with the way we designed our relationship feels too forward.
Getting into her bath and making a meal out of her was probably too far too.
So maybe Bailey is right. Maybe Iamimpulsive. But only where she’s concerned. And I don’t regret it.
We stop at another red light. The bar I want to take her to is just ahead. I reach back, trailing a hand from her knee down over her calf. Hoping I haven’t freaked her out too badly with the bike, I squeeze her reassuringly.
I turn over my shoulder, my helmet bumping against hers. “You okay, sugar?”
