Page 25 of The Blessing

Hell, I’d thought I’d been rather flirtatious with her. I’m constantly checking her out and looking at her tits far too many times to indicate it was only a friendship I’m after. Maybe my feelings for her aren’t as apparent as I imagined. I know I haven’t really opened up to her about my past… Hell, I’ve avoided talking about anything deep because I didn’t want to reopen all of my wounds. She might know I’m lusting for her, but she might’ve not picked up on much else.

“I guess I just needed you to tease me until I caved.”

Ronnie throws her head back with a loud laugh, causing her curls to bounce around her lovely face. She looks like a fucking angel. I watch her continue to giggle as if I made the world’s greatest joke, and suddenly, all of my suspicions are confirmed. My cock-tease of a neighbor definitely planned this. Her date might’ve been legitimate—but the taunting was absolutely purposeful.

“Well, I love going on dates, but I had a feeling the night was going to be boring. Why would I want to go out with some stranger when I could go out with you?”

I smile at her words; they make me feel ten feet fucking tall. It’s as if this is her way of saying she likes me. Neither of us are ready to say the words out loud, but we show each other our feelings in our own ways. I’ve always believed that actions speak louder than words—and her words mixed with her actions are making me feel like she’s as into me as I’m into her. “Good point, Ronnie. Why would you want to go out with someone else when you have me?”

She blushes and looks away with a smile. She’s fucking smitten, I can definitely tell. The waitress serves us our sodas and I grab Grey’s formula from his diaper bag and begin to feed him as Ronnie tells me all about her workload. I’ve noted how she’s changed the subject, but I don’t push her to speak on her feelings any further. She’s got her boundaries and I’ve got mine. Besides, tonight is supposed to be fun for her and if venting about her job as an editor is fun—then I’m all ears.

“The workload I’ve had is a nightmare,” Ronnie says as she sips on her soda. “Of course, it doesn’t help that I’ve got a neighbor I always want to hang out with.”

“You’re blaming me for your slacking?” I ask incredulously, smiling at her from across the table.

“I’m not blaming you… I’m just saying you’re quite the distraction.”

“I’ve been told that a few times.” I wink at her.

“And you’re proud of that? A girl has got to earn a living, Trev.”

“Well, maybe one day I can take care of you and you won’t have to work.” Where the hell did that come from?

“You want to take care of me, Trev? It’s the twenty-first century—so I think I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. You just deserve some time to relax every now and then. Men don’t mind carrying more of a work load.”

She rolls her eyes at me but I can tell she’s content with my statement. And while I don’t know where the fuck that statement actually came from, at least she knows I’m thinking about a future. A future which heavily involves her.

Our food arrives and we fall into an easy conversation about literature and music—two things which I loved before I found many different forms of self-medication. I can’t remember the last time I talked about Kesey, Bukowski, or Palahniuk, but it’s always freeing to discuss something you once loved. I used to read all the time before I sold all my books to a second-hand bookstore for drug money. I’d love to repurchase some of my favorites; maybe it’ll even impress Ronnie when she sees I’ve got a small library. The only books I’ve got in my apartment right now are children’s books for Grey.

“Well, I’ve always loved Bukowski. Ham on Rye was a nice escape from some of the British classics I would always read. When I was in college I took every British Literature course they offered because I’ve been obsessed with Austen and the Brontë sisters since I was a girl. I’ve broken many of my book’s spines and I think I’ve purchased Pride and Prejudice at least ten different times.”

“I’ve never read any of that old stuff,” I admit, wishing I’d taken another literature class in high school. “I’ve read older science fiction, but that’s about it.”

“Well, I’ve never read any of that. So, I guess we could educate each other then.”

I’ve never educated anyone on anything. Well, that’s not entirely true. One time I taught someone how to roll a joint. That’s about as far as my “teaching expertise” has gone. It was a useful skill at the time, but it’d be cool to teach someone something more… academic. Maybe Ronnie’s just looking for another reason to hang out with me. Not that she needs one. I’d be cool watching paint dry as long as it was with her.

Grey begins to grow restless. Now that he’s starting to stand up, he constantly wants to be on the move. He can only sit for so long before he gets antsy. He begins kicking his legs, wanting down, making me wonder if I should take him outside for some fresh air before he has a full-blown tantrum in the middle of this pizza joint.

“Aw, poor guy,” Ronnie says, leaning over the table—providing me with an amazing view of her cleavage—as she gives Grey a cute pout. “Is it past his bedtime?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about this,” I apologize as I rock Grey in my arms in an effort to tame his impending tantrum. I flag down the waitress and indicate that I want the check, and with a flirtatious grin, she’s more than happy to oblige.

“It’s completely fine,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I love having Greyson around. He’s so well tempered.” She looks at his red face and continues, “Well, most of the time. Let’s pay the check and get this adorable little guy home.”

“Can you hold him for a moment?” I ask as our check comes.

Ronnie is eager, as always, to take him off my hands. I’m glad she loves Grey so much because he and I are definitely a packaged deal now. If someone isn’t fond of Greyson, then they can’t be in my life. I want him to be surrounded with love and positivity; Ronnie gives him plenty of that. She’s fucking perfect for him—and she’s fucking perfect for me.

I pay the bill, then let Ronnie carry Grey out to my truck. He’s so calm in her arms. I wish she could just stay the night at my apartment to keep his tantrum at bay. Well, I’d also like her to stay over and take care of me. But I know it’s far too early to get her into bed. Since he’s been teething his crying is constant. I keep his crib beside my bed at night because I know he’ll wake-up multiple times from the pain caused by his gums.

“Thanks for tonight, Trev. That was a lot more fun than a stuffy dinner with a stranger,” Ronnie teases as I open up the passenger door of the truck cab for her.

“Well, I really appreciate that. What an amazing compliment,” I say sarcastically.

As she looks up at me with the streetlight shining down on her lovely face, I want nothing more than to bend down and press my lips against hers. I wonder if they’re as soft as they look.

“Tonight, was amazing, Trev. I had a lot of fun. Just like I always do when I’m with you.”

I smile at her and it takes all the strength inside of me to walk away without touching and kissing her the way I want to. I take Grey from her arms and strap him safely into his car seat as she slides into her spot in the front. I wonder if she wanted me to kiss her. With the way she was looking at me, I couldn’t really tell. I’ve never done shit the proper way with girls and now I’m wondering if I truly don’t know how. I’m just so used to fucking them first and getting to know them afterward—if I even bothered with that step at all. I’ve never wanted to make a girl fall for me. If Dean were here, he’d be able to give me some advice. He married his high school sweetheart, so he obviously knew what he was doing. He’d have said something like, “Man, stop being so nervous. She’s probably just as anxious as you are. Just take her out and don’t chase her off by banging her too soon.”The memory of him is always bittersweet. It causes me to smile for a moment, as I think of the friendship we used to share; then the reality that he’s gone hits me like a freight train. If he were here, I know he would’ve liked Ronnie. He could always tell which people were the “good ones.” I think he would’ve picked Ronnie for me if I hadn’t picked her myself.