Page 69 of When There Was You
“Grumpy?”
“You were a little irritable,” I amend.
“Any regrets?”
I swear, his voice is even lower on the phone, and it shoots straight between my legs. “Zero. If I think too longabout it, I get turned on.” My hand runs along the top of the comforter, smoothing the ripples. “And…” My throat tightens. Shit.
“And what?”
I pause.
“Sundance? You okay?”
I clear my throat, swallow the damn lump. “It gave me hope I could enjoy intimacy with someone again.”
“You’re giving me that hope too, baby.”
The full moonglows through the window, casting its light across my comforter as I let another truth fly. Talking to Butch in the dark, right before I go to sleep, is fast becoming one of my favorite things. “I didn’t go to my senior prom. My boyfriend and I broke up a few weeks beforehand. It still bugs me to this day—missing something I wanted to attend so badly.”
“Your ex was obviously a schmuck,” Butch says.
That elicits as smile. “It gets worse. He asked another girl to go the week before. So even though he pitched a bitch about going when it was on our docket, he was apparently not too depressed over our demise to ask some other chick in the eleventh hour.”
“What a dick.”
“Not even good dick.”
“Ouch. If it makes you feel any better, I wore the ugliest tuxedo ever created to my prom. It was purple.Purple, Jacqui.”
A chuckle bubbles out picturing 70s-style formalwear. “I’ll bet you had the big, ruffled shirt to go with it too, huh?”
He groans. “Sure did...with purple accents. I looked like a jolly pirate.”
“Doubtful, Lumberjack.”
“I took solace in knowing I never had to step foot in one of those stupid dances again.”
“I’m going to need photographic evidence of prom night. And I know just who I can ask...” I’m down for any family photo albums showing cute little Butch at all stages of life.
“You’re never invited back. My mom already said she could tell you were bad news.”
“Liar.”
He chuckles. “You’re my kind of bad news, Sundance.”
“I never expectedto stay so close to home,” Butch admits. “Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different if certain dominos hadn’t fallen.”
I pause. “Do you want to talk more about what dominos?”
“Not yet,” he answers gently.
“I never planned to leave California, but now that I have, I realize how cool it is to live somewhere so vastly dissimilar and unfamiliar. Geographically, culturally, visually, all of it.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Yes and no. It will always be home, I think. I miss my friends. And the cars. And sourdough bread. And what’s a girl gotta do to get a turkey on whole wheat with avocado and sprouts around here?”
“I’ll be honest. Never seen that on one menu. But you’ll find creamed chipped beef on toast all day long. It’s a southern staple.”
