Page 35 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
The softness of Desi’s voice is enough to make me blink. I’d been sitting and staring blankly at the dirty pair of Shawn’s underwear for I don’t know how long, and I look away. Panic claws its way up my throat as I try to process my epiphany without letting her get a glimpse of the past she knows only the gist of.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I shove off the bed and begin collecting the rest of the clothes and shoving them into the hamper like a mad woman as I try to hide the trembling of my hands. “I just was remembering when we were kids is all. How his hair used to stick up all the time and how much I loved hanging out at his house after school.”
“Hm,” she murmurs, and I don’t look up because I haven’t quite gotten ahold of my unexpected emotions yet.
“I lost the train of thought. Where were we?”
“You were going to set me straight as to why you’re resisting the hot guy in a police uniform. Then I was going to reiterate just how damn good he looks in said uniform and how if you’re not going to let him get frisky, er, frisk you, then I’m willing and able to take your place. Then you were going to roll your eyes and tell me I’m jumping to conclusions and that he only wants to be friends, which we both know is a load of horseshit. I’d tell you when he looks at you, it’s obvious he wants more than to meet you for coffee at Starbucks. You’d tell me I’m making it up, that you’d never meet him at Starbucks because you can’t imagine spending that kind of money for a cup of coffee, but you know damn well you’ve thought about him in that way too and when he walks into the room your lady bits go all tingly . . . even though you won’t admit it.” She takes an exaggerated breath. “What have I forgotten?”
I laugh. Somehow, she has given me exactly what she didn’t know I needed, her quirky and lighthearted sense of humor. It’s drawn me back to the world I created for myself. One where the past is black, and day by day, I make my own future.
“Then I’d ask you why you’re so invested in this person you just met and why you keep pushing him on me, your best friend, who prefers to keep shit with the opposite sex simple.” I lift my eyebrows to challenge her.
Desi purses her lips and shrugs. “I’d tell you that he’s nice and obviously safe. Besides, why is it so bad for me, your best friend, to want you to have another friend to count on should I walk out the front door and, I don’t know, get struck by lightning.”
“And out comes the guilt card,” I say with gusto. “You forgot something, though, there isn’t a cloud in the sky.”
“It could be heat lightning.”
“Whatever,” I laugh. “You’re just as irritating as he is.”
“Oh, he’s irritating, is he? That’s a good thing. Pray tell.” She props her chin on her hands like an eager child.
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“A good thing? I call it a pain-in-the-ass thing,” I say, playing along even though I’m the one who has been creating the friction with Grant. Then again, he did do the whole CVS stunt . . . so, I’ve earned the right to be pissed at him.
“But why does he irritate you?”
“Because he’s a man. Because instead of writing me a damn ticket for going ninety miles an hour he called my bluff when I told him I was speeding because I was having a feminine emergency and took me to CVS to buy Tampax for me,” I explain, fully expecting her to understand. When I look up, the sympathy I expect on her face isn’t there. Instead, she’s grinning ear to ear.
“Oh. Wow. So the guy saves you from a reckless driving ticket, a possible trip to jail, and is considerate enough to buy you tampons when he thinks you’re having period problems. Man, he sounds like a real bastard.”
“I assure you, it wasn’t out of the kindness of his heart.”
“You know what they say about boys who pick on you . . .”
“No. What?”
“It means they like you. And be careful, you’re rolling your eyes so hard they just might get stuck there.”
I do it again for show. “You forget, I knew him in third grade. He was much sweeter then.”
“He still looks pretty damn sweet to me,” she murmurs, her lips sliding into a mischievous smile.
“I told you, I’m not disagreeing with that . . . but he’s Grant.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure Grant,” she says, mimicking the way I said his name, “wouldn’t say no to a little fun with you.” She rises from her seat and makes a show of tossing his card on the table before resting her hands on her hips and sighing.
“Uh-oh, should I assume you’re going to finish the rest of our conversation for me?”
“You mean the one where you start making lame-ass excuses about why you can’t call Officer Sexy back? Like how you think it’s creepy to go out with a boy you knew in third grade, to which I’d counter with how there is nothing boyish about him now and who fucking cares? Is anyone keeping tabs? So what? You guys hung out, colored pictures of rainbows during class, and swung on the monkey bars together. None of those things matter when we factor in his hotness, his uniform, and his handcuffs, which I’d put a million dollars on him knowing exactly how to use. I reject that argument. It’s moot. Next?”
I use a pair of tongs to pick up Shawn’s underwear and put them in the trash while hating and ignoring the fact that everything she said makes perfect sense. But she doesn’t know about how he fits into my past or the particulars. My mom is gone, my dad is out of jail and somewhere I don’t care to know, so that leaves Grant and his family as the only ones who do. What about that? How does that make me feel?
I just don’t know.
“I think you’ve pretty much covered the bases.” I turn to face her.
