Indigo Sky

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Where are you running off to?" Mom asked as she sidled up to me in the break room at the gym.

"I have a date," I grumbled, wishing I had called Kate to reschedule.

Okay, no, that was a lie. I didn't want to reschedule. But I was still ridiculously fucked up from the nightmare that had woken me up and prevented me from getting any more sleep. I was exhausted. And if I was being totally real here, I was pissy as hell. I'd spent my morning in a permanent state of impatience, snapping at my mother for the dumbest shit, and the last thing I wanted to do was jump down Kate's throat over nothing.

Mom's brows shot straight into her hairline. "A date? With who? That girl?"

I blew out a long, impatient breath. "Yes."

"You didn't tell me you had a date."

I pinched the bridge of my nose on my way to the back door. "Yeah, I know. It slipped my mind."

"She must be pretty special, huh? You haven't been on a date in a long time."

She followed close behind, crowding my space, and the urge to bark at her pulled tight against my nerves.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm already running late. But I'll be home for a few minutes before I have to go to the club, and I'll tell you how it went, okay?" I said, forcing my jaw to relax.

If I ground my teeth any more today, my molars were going to shatter, and the last thing I needed was a hefty dental bill to have them capped.

"Yeah, okay," she said, patting me on the back. "I'll see you then."

"Yep."

I hurried out the door before she had the opportunity to say anything more, relieved to get away from her. But the moment I was behind the wheel, the guilt gnawed at me like hungry worms feasting on a corpse. I had great, supportive, understanding parents. They’d always been cool when I was a kid, never getting on my case over stupid shit when other kids’ parents might have, and now, in adulthood, they'd become good friends. They gave me space; they respected my privacy. I rarely got mad at them. Taking my lack of sleep and nerves out on Mom now was uncalled for, and as I pulled out onto the road to head to the diner where I was meeting Kate, I dialed Mom's number and put the call on speakerphone.

"Miss me already?" she answered right away, a smile in her tone.

I plonked my elbow onto the window ledge and raked my hand through my disheveled hair. "Sorry I blew you off."

"Oh, you're fine, hon. It's been a crappy week—I get it."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't give me the right to take it out on you."

"I don't take it personally; don't worry."

I filled my lungs with a calming breath. "All right, cool."

"Where are you taking her?"

"The Golden Carousel Diner," I replied. "We both work tonight, so we're just eating quickly before—"

"Can I ask you a question? And it's none of my business—you don’t have to answer—but I'm curious."

The peace I'd just begun to find was immediately replaced by quickly mounting aggravation. I could only guess what she wanted to ask, and I had a sneaking suspicion I was going to be angry with any of the possibilities.

"What's up?"

"Do you think you'll … you know … have a problem with her being a, uh …"

I narrowed my glare at the car speakers. "A what?"

"Oh God, you know what I mean." Then, she dropped her voice to a whisper, as if she didn't want anyone to hear. "A stripper."

My lips rolled between my teeth as I considered the question, surprised I wasn't particularly annoyed at all. It was valid. I could imagine a great deal of people would find themselves in a constant state of jealousy and possessiveness, knowing their significant other was nearly naked in the presence of strangers on a nightly basis. Being looked at. Being touched. Being the fuel for countless fantasies, as Kate had been for my own fantasies years ago.

It was her job —I understood that. During those hours on the stage and in the crowd and in the private rooms, she worked for them . I could be an adult about that, and I didn’t waste one second on judgment. But would there ever be a time when I felt crazed with the need to mark my territory?

I couldn't say because I'd never been in that position before.

"I don't really know," I replied honestly. "I mean, it's what she does for work."

"Oh, I understand that, and I don't have a problem with someone making a living that way. I'm not judging. I can just envision that it could potentially put a strain on a relationship … if, you know, this went in that direction."

"Yeah"—I blew out a breath as the diner came into view—"I get what you're saying."

"Anyway!" Her voice perked up instantly, as if to push away the negative vibe. "I don't mean to bring you down, hon. It was just on my mind, and … maybe I shouldn't have said anything …"

"No." I pulled into the parking lot. "It's fine, Mom. But I'll cross that bridge if I get there."

"All right. Have a good time, okay?"

We said our quick goodbyes as I parked and checked my hair in the rearview mirror. I looked like I was in desperate need of a shower, but there wasn't much I could do about that now. So, I brushed my hands through it and hoped it didn't look as bad to others as it did to me.

I got out and immediately spotted Kate's little Toyota. The car was empty, and with a groan, I wondered how long she'd been waiting for me inside. With my stomach in a gazillion knots, I hurried inside. I hadn't been this nervous to see a woman in … God, I couldn't remember how long.

The last time I'd been out with anyone was on a double date Joe and Becky had set up with another teacher at the school they worked at. They thought it'd be a good idea to hook me up with a nice girl, one established in her career and life. But we had absolutely nothing in common, and that was made blatantly obvious by her incessant commentary about why I should look into prosthetic eyes instead of wearing an eyepatch—even after I’d told her that the extent of my injury had left it impossible to do so without major reconstructive surgery.

At the end of the date, without any questions about how I felt toward her, Joe had clapped me on the shoulder and quietly said, "Sorry about that."

Needless to say, I never saw her again, and I hadn't been on a date since … well, not until now.

I waited for the hostess to seat a family of five and took a look around the diner, hoping I'd spot Kate … and I did, almost immediately.

Hard to miss the girl with the bright pink hair, sitting in the middle of so much beige.

The hostess came back the moment I started to walk in Kate's direction.

"Sir, I'll take you to your seat," she said from behind me.

"I'm meeting someone," I threw over my shoulder, keeping my gaze only on the woman I'd come to see.

The walk to her table felt like walking on a cloud. Serene and surreal, drifting between awareness and a dreamlike haze.

She hadn't noticed me yet. Her eyes were on the menu in front of her, so I took a second to appreciate how normal she looked. She wasn't naked. She wasn't in the leggings and sweatshirt she wore before and after her time onstage. She wasn't all dolled up beneath a thick cover of makeup. And, hey, don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t saying I didn't appreciate every side of her because I did. But this side—the one wearing a pair of skinny blue jeans, a cropped T-shirt beneath a cardigan, and a bouncy ponytail—was different. It was new , and if I had to choose, it was easily my favorite. This was the side I could see myself curling up on the couch to watch a movie with. This was the side I could imagine cooking dinner with.

This was the side that felt real .

This was the side that felt most like Kate .

She turned abruptly to look up at me as if she'd sensed me there. Her lip looked better now—not as red, not as angry—and she let herself smile.

"Hey," she uttered wistfully on a held breath.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, dropping into the seat across from her. "Work sucked."

She laughed, her cheeks pink and her eyes twinkling. "What else do you do? I mean, when you're not kicking ass at the club."

I loved that she’d said it like I didn't spend most of my time standing at a door, trying not to fall asleep. I loved that she’d said it like I was important .

"I work at a gym."

"Ah," she replied, gesturing toward my arms. "That explains the muscles."

"Hey, not everyone who works at the gym works out," I said pointedly, swiping the menu from beneath her nose in a playful gesture, making her giggle. "I don't think my mom has ever worked out in the time I've been alive, and she's worked there for … I don't know … thirty years or so maybe."

Her lips curled upward. "You work with your mom?"

"Different areas, same gym."

"That's adorable."

I flipped through the laminated pages and perused the dozens of options. My appetite had more or less disappeared on my way here, but now, with the conversation flowing easily and the air between us feeling as normal as ever, my stomach was grumbling once again with a reminder that I hadn't eaten a damn thing since seven o'clock this morning.

"Are you close with your mom?" Kate asked, folding her arms on the table.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'd say so. I get along with both of my parents."

"You see them a lot outside of work?"

I turned the page and looked through their list of crepes and pancakes.

"Well, I live with them, so …" I lifted my gaze from the page to assess her reaction, to see if she now thought I was some basement-dwelling loser for still living with my parents at my age.

But she wasn't looking at me. Her eyes had dropped to the table, and the tip of her pointer finger drew circles over the beige laminate surface as she chewed at the corner of her lip. It would seem that talk of parents scraped the surface of a touchy subject for her, and I teetered uncomfortably on the possibility of asking her for more details or not.

I swallowed, bringing my attention back to the menu. "What about you? Are you close with your family?" I asked quickly, then immediately kicked myself for being so bold.

"Not really," she replied, then swiftly pulled the menu from my hands.

I gawked at her as she smirked. "I was still looking at that."

"Well, I wasn't finished when you took it from me ," she fired back, looking satisfied.

"You—"

"Sorry for making you wait, kids." A waitress bounded over to stand beside our table and practically threw another menu down in front of me before pulling a notepad and pen from her apron. "I'm Birdy. I'll be your server today. Can I get you started with something to drink?"

"Uh," I stammered, turning the menu right side up. "I'll just get a water, thanks."

Kate smiled at the waitress. "Can I get a Diet Coke?"

Birdy nodded, scribbling on her pad. "Water and Diet Coke … got it. Do you know what you're ordering, or should I give you a couple of minutes?"

Kate ordered a double cheeseburger and fries, and I was ashamed to admit I was relieved she wasn't planning to eat something dainty while I embarrassed myself by scarfing down a meatball hero and loaded waffle fries.

Birdy pulled her bright red lips into a wide grin, took the menus from us, and promised it wouldn't take long for our food to come out. And I was reluctant to admit I was relieved about that too. Because as much as I liked being out with Kate, especially this casual side of her, I was also aware of the time, and I still needed to shower and grab my suit before heading to Midnight Lotus.

"So, tell me something about yourself," Kate said, folding her hands beneath her chin.

"What do you want to know?" I leaned back against the cushioned booth.

She rolled her eyes up to the Tiffany-style lamp hanging above the table. "Um … are you still a virgin?" Her gaze met mine, her teasing eyes twinkling with amusement.

I barked with a laugh that was maybe a little too loud. "Oh my God, you remember that?"

"Revan," she said, her round eyes softening as they held mine, "I remember everything about that night."

I tipped my head, curiosity ablaze in my mind. "Why?"

"Why did you remember me ?"

I huffed a chuckle as I turned away, rubbing my hand over my bearded chin. I couldn’t look at her under this kind of pressure. Not when I knew my cheeks were bright red and my heartbeat could be heard in fuckin’ China.

“I mean, you, uh … you kinda left an impression,” I muttered, remembering those moments when her body had straddled mine … and the one when she had kissed me beneath the parking-lot lights.

“Yeah, and why is it so surprising that you left one on me too?”

I couldn’t help it—I scoffed. “Come on,” I grumbled, scratching the back of my head and wishing I didn’t look so much like a street rat. “You don’t have to—"

“Oh, trust me, I’m not trying to flatter you,” she said, huffing a laugh. “And, yeah, I get it. You probably think I have my pick of all kinds of men, right?”

Realizing the lightheartedness of the conversation had, at some point, disappeared, like a fucking fart in the wind, I looked back at her, startled. “I didn’t—"

“You didn’t have to say it for me to know what you meant.”

She avoided my panicked gaze as she looked toward the mix of jellies, salt and pepper shakers, napkin dispenser, and ketchup bottle at the end of the table against the wall. She reached out to turn the ketchup’s label outward as she gnawed at the corner of her lip.

I flattened my palms against the table and spoke slowly, carefully. “Kate, I didn’t mean to offend you. I was only saying we met years ago. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you—"

“Do you know you’re the only man I’ve ever asked back to my place?”

It was a rhetorical question because how could I have possibly known that? Yet, still, I stammered, “I, uh … I—"

“Oh, stop. I’m not mad at you.”

I brought my gaze back to hers to find a soft, small smile had graced her lips once again. It left me feeling relieved, even as I noticed the faintest glint of sadness twinkling in her otherwise friendly eyes.

“I get what kind of reputation you might think I have, and I’m not blaming you for it. But we’re here because I want to get to know you and I want you to know me. So, I’m telling you, you are the only man I’ve ever invited back to my place.”

I felt the gentle tug of a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “Well, now, I feel even worse for turning you down.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I think that’s what left the biggest impression,” she replied as Birdy hurried over with our drinks.

The waitress placed the plastic cups in front of us, along with a couple of straws. I thought she might’ve said something, but I couldn’t tell you what it was.

It was impossible to hear anything above the beating of my heart as I stared across the table, holding the gaze of the most gorgeous, strongest woman I had ever known before in my life and knowing that, for whatever fucking reason, she genuinely liked me. And, fuck, she remembered. Not just my name or that we’d shared a moment once upon a time, but really, truly remembered .

Birdy walked away, and Kate pulled the wrapper away from the straw.

Then, as she slipped it into her Diet Coke, she asked, “So, are you?”

I swallowed and shook myself away from my stupor, hoping I hadn’t stared like a moron for too long. “Am I what?”

“Still a virgin?”

“Oh,” I replied with a chuckle, giving my head a little shake. “No, nah, that, uh … that ship sailed a while ago.”

“Good,” Kate said, her lips passing over the end of the straw as she took a small sip. “I didn’t really want to be your first.”

I laughed, knowing damn well that if I hadn’t been blushing before, I sure as fuck was now.

“But, depending on where this goes,” she continued, leaning back into the seat, “I wouldn’t mind taking a chance at being the best.”

I didn’t say it then—I couldn’t, especially because Birdy was bounding over with our plates of food—but what I was thinking, as Kate casually accepted her meal with a wide, beaming smile, was, And if I play my cards right—and, fuck, I hope I do—she’ll also be the last .

***

So, long story short—and I won’t bore you with too many details—Kate and I … well, after that first date, we both kinda knew we were a done deal. Neither of us really said as much. We were too old for the whole will you be my boyfriend-girlfriend shit.

But the second I walked her to her car that afternoon and I didn’t want to leave, knowing damn well I was going to see her in just a couple of hours at the club …

That was when I knew.

Yeah … I knew I was done for.

And if I hadn’t known it then, I definitely knew it when she stood on her toes and kissed me right at the corner of my mouth. Because even as unromantic of a kiss as it was, I still felt that same spark I had all those years ago, as fuckin’ lame as that sounds.

Yeah, no … I was done for. Completely and totally gone. And when I got home that afternoon, I never took that shower, so I’d have go to work feeling even more like a dirty piece of shit. All because the second I walked through the door, the only thing I could think to do was tell my parents all about the girl I couldn’t wait for them to meet.