Making Her Wait Page 5

  “Now that we’ve got your motor running,” he tells me in a gruff voice, “I’ll work on that tire.”

  Fuck the tire!

  I actually totally forgot about the tire, but I seriously don’t care anymore. “We can always take care of that in the morning,” I offer, not even trying to hide the want in my voice.

  He doesn’t look at me as he rejects my brilliant suggestion. Pulling the spare from my trunk, as well as some tools that I had no idea were in there, he easily replies, “I’ve got plans in the morning. And you’re not available to hang out with me until next Friday, remember?”

  Of course, he’s a man who listens! I wasn’t even sure they existed, thinking they were some myth that an imaginative girl thought up hundreds of years ago, and it’s such a great concept that the female species has passed it down through the generations, hoping and praying that some man might take it as a challenge and attempt to make it true. Now that I want Walker badly enough to take him back to my house and defile my sister’s ears, he has to be one of those magically rare guys who proves that myth is based in some strange sort of reality. And of course, he remembers what I said at the most inopportune moments.

  “Right. I forgot,” I admit lamely, too annoyed to come up with a witty or seductive remark.

  “If your schedule opens up, you should let me know. I’d love to see you again before next week.”

  He’ll meet my eyes for that.

  I like his eyes. It’s getting dark out, but the lights are on in the parking lot, shining down on us and allowing me to see the sparkle in his green eyes. They’re not as green as mine. His are more hazel; green mixed with a hint of brown. They’re kind of hypnotic.

  “I’ll do that, Walker Kelley.”

  “I don’t suppose you ever checked the pressure in your spare, did you? This one is almost as flat as the one we just took off.”

  “That was all you, not we. And no. I never check my tires. There’s an indicator light for that.”

  Walker shakes his head like that’s the silliest thing he’s ever heard. “There’s a gas station a few blocks away. I’ll follow you there, ok? I’ll fill up your tire, then let you enjoy your night.”

  Meaning, he has things he wants to do. Maybe someone he wants to do, someone that’s not me. Maybe he has a date, and I’m making him very late. I also got him all turned on for her. Lucky bitch, whoever she is.

  I try not to sigh in frustration, disappointment, or relief.

  Just friends…

  Thanks to Walker and his mad mechanic skills, my car again starts right up. Walker talks to me as he fills up my spare tire, telling me I can’t run this like my normal tire. I need to go slow, and I need to get a new one as soon as possible.

  Standing up, the task at hand finished, he looks regretfully at my mouth. I want to tell him to just do it already. I’ve never had to beg a guy to kiss me before. If I thought begging would make him give in, I’d do it in a heartbeat.

  “I’ll see you next Friday, G. Let me know what time to show up and what kind of takeout you want.”

  “Walker…”

  He shakes his head, answering my question without me ever voicing it. “Just friends, G. Nothing more.”

  I try to not huff at his comment.

  I mostly succeed.

  I think.

  “I’ll see you Friday,” he says again, obviously not knowing how to end this. A kiss would be good. A kiss would be great. Instead, he takes a few steps toward his car, turning back to me once he’s a safe distance away. “It was fun seeing you tonight.”

  “It was mostly fun, Friend.”

  Walker climbs in his car, chuckling at me and my obvious annoyance at his stubborn stance on our relationship status. I don’t realize that I never thanked him for changing my stupid tire until he’s gone.

  He never thanked me for the hard-on he’s taking to someone else, though, so it’s all fair, right?

  Climbing into my car, I grab my phone.

  Genny: Busy?

  Matt: Give me an hour.

  Walker

  Genny: What’re you doing?

  I wonder at Genny’s random text on my way home. After spending most of the day fixing a couple things at my sister’s house with her rambunctious boys, I joined Chad and a bunch of other guys for an impromptu soccer game. We played until it was dark, and Genny’s text was waiting for me, patiently, until I got home and took a shower.

  Laying on my bed staring at the ceiling, I contemplate my answer. Do I tell her? Do I make something up? Do I go for vague? Do I ask what she’s doing?

  Walker: Why?

  Genny: Myra and I were talking about you. Thought about inviting you over.

  Walker: Who’s Myra?

  Genny: Bestie.

  A picture accompanies her text, showing Genny and her best friend in pajamas, drinks in hand, smiles on their faces. They look buzzed, which make me wonder what kind of drunk Genny is. Is she a happy drunk? A horny drunk? A mean drunk?

  Walker: What’re you saying about me?

  Genny: We’re just friends.

  Walker: Is that a random comment, or what you’re telling Myra about me?

  Genny: Both.

  Walker: How drunk are you right now?

  Genny: Come over and find out…

  Really bad idea. Alcohol often makes girls bolder than normal, and Genny doesn’t have a problem being bold on a regular day.

  Even if she wasn’t drunk, I refuse to be another one of the guys she screws with no emotions involved. Reese is right. I’m almost thirty. I want a semi-nice girl to settle down with. To fall in love with. To start a family with. To grow old with. I want the real deal, and I’m not going to find it by screwing every girl who looks at me with that look in her eyes.

  Love doesn’t come from sex. I’ve been around long enough to know that. I’ve seen and heard enough from my apartment to know that.

  Walker: Love to, G. But not tonight.

  She responds with an angry emoji.

  I think about getting ready to go to the pool hall where I’m meeting my friends later. I think about going to see Genny and torturing myself all night by trying to make her keep her hands to herself. I think about sitting here on my ass trying to make up my mind because this girl has me thinking about things I really shouldn’t be considering.

  I get up and get my shit around to go meet the guys. A couple games of pool might keep me from thinking about her for a little while.

  Genny: Did your date enjoy the hard-on I gave you last night?

  Laughing out loud, I stop myself from telling her I didn’t have a date last night. She doesn’t need to know that. What would she say if she found out I came home and watched a movie by myself, then went to bed early, doing my best not to think about how good she felt in my arms? Or that look on her face when I told her I’d get her motor running if she gave me half a chance. Or that expression she wore when I left her at the gas station, the one that was begging me without words to kiss her already!

  After typing out a response, I lock the screen, not sure if I should send it. I think on it while making my way to the pool hall, realizing she might be drunk, but she’s letting me know exactly what’s going on in her head. I decide to go with it, hitting send as I walk into the bar, wondering what else I might be able to find out from her tonight.

  Walker: That was only a semi, G. And no one enjoyed it but me.

  Genny: Did you at least think of me while you enjoyed it?

  So glad I didn’t go over to her place.

  I really like this girl. I like her smart mouth, her sarcastic remarks, the way she touches me without any hesitancy. It just about kills me to let her do it. I almost showed her how fun it would be if I touched her back, but I have some restraint. She’s testing it at every turn, and I wonder how much longer it’ll last, but it’s still in place as of right now.

  It wouldn’t be if I’d gone over to see her. There’s no way she’d keep her hands to herself while asking me these ver
y personal questions, and my self-restraint would crumble after the first few exploratory touches. There’s something there, between us. Something that’s really hard to ignore. But I will, no matter how hard it is, until she wants more than casual sex. I need more than that and I refuse to share her, or any other girl, with anyone else.

  Walker: Are you gonna regret this conversation in the morning?

  Genny: Probably. But it’s not morning yet.

  Walker: Ask me that question again in the morning.

  Genny: Come over. I won’t have to use the phone to ask you.

  Walker: Not tonight, G.

  This time she doesn’t respond.

  Zander, one of my friends, comes over to join me as I lean against the wall, watching Alex and Kane start a game. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Not much. You?”

  “Heidi’s family reunion is tomorrow,” he complains, rolling his eyes. “I don’t understand why she wants me to go. I’m not family yet.”

  “She thinks you are. Besides, it’ll make her happy.”

  “True. And when she’s happy…” he trails off, not buzzed enough to finish that sentence. Zander swears he doesn’t talk about his sex life, but get a couple beers in him and he doesn’t shut up about it.

  A few games and beers later, I take a break, sitting at a table and pulling out my phone. I missed another text. I would bet my next paycheck it’s from Genny. Staring at that little icon on my phone, I debate opening it. She’s just going to argue with me about going to see her. Kane comes over, tipping his beer toward my phone. “Who’s that? Got a new girl?”

  “Not exactly,” I tell him, wishing there was an easy answer. “We’re saying just friends, but she’s drinking and begging me to come over.”

  “Why’re you saying just friends?”

  Taking a long swallow of beer, I stall, trying to come up with some answer that isn’t as awful as the truth. He won’t buy it, though, so I give him the disturbing truth with a long sigh. “She’s one of Chad’s regulars.”

  Kane raises his eyebrows. “That’s a new one for you. Never figured you’d go for his sloppy seconds.”

  “Neither did I.”

  He finishes off his beer, a thoughtful expression on his face. “At least read her text. How bad is she begging you?”

  Unlocking my phone, I bring up her latest text, staring in shock at the picture she sent. It takes me a long minute to remember anything else, even that Kane is looking over my shoulder and staring at her photo, too. I lock my phone as quickly as possible, staring at the blank screen, cursing her in my head as I hear Kane bust out laughing beside me.

  I really wish he hadn’t seen that…

  He slaps his hand on my shoulder, rocking me forward on the bar stool. “I’m gonna say she’s begging you bad.”

  “Or she’s telling me I shouldn’t bother coming over anymore.”

  Grinning, he admits, “Or that.”

  Genny

  Sunday morning, I quickly remember why I swore I’d never get wasted again. Myra agrees we might have gone a little overboard last night, and after stealing my sunglasses and some ibuprofen, she sneaks out of my house and into the sunshine to go home and back to bed.

  I get set up in the kitchen, prepared to make a couple meals for throughout the week. Stuffing some green peppers, I cover them with foil and slide the dish into the oven. There’s also some frozen chicken thawing in the fridge for Calle and I to grill one night this week with a salad. Two meals taken care of. Left overs or salad on the other nights. Perfect.

  I’m trying to set the timer on my phone when a new text comes in, distracting me.

  Walker: Am I correct in assuming someone else took that photo of you?

  What photo?

  Scrolling through my phone, I suck in a hard breath, staring in disbelief at a very risqué picture of myself. I’m in only my bra and a pair of pajama shorts, my hand disappearing down those shorts, and an expression on my face that says I made it to Orgasm-ville all on my own.

  Holy shit! I sent that to Walker?!

  “Oh Lord,” I breathe, trying desperately to recall exactly what Myra and I did last night.

  “Oh Lord what?” Callie asks, joining me in the kitchen.

  “Ah, nothing,” I reply nervously. I stuff my phone in my pocket and give her my undivided attention. “How’s the paper going? Did you find out how you did on that test last week?”

  She eyes me suspiciously. Maybe I’m being too careful?

  “Good so far, and not yet. I’m not even halfway done with the paper, though, so it’s too early to know for sure.”

  “It’s not due until Friday, right? You’ve got plenty of time. What’s your work schedule like this week?”

  “I work Monday, Wednesday and Sunday.” Under my fixed gaze, she finally gives me a questioning glare. “What’s with you? You’re acting funny.”

  Too careful, for sure. Shrugging, I try to brush off her comment. “Just worried about your finals coming up, that’s all. They’re only a few weeks away, right?”

  “Nah, that’s not it. What were you Oh Lording when I came in? What’re you hiding on your phone?”

  I wave my hand dismissively, trying to go back to what I was doing. But what, exactly, was I doing? Oh yeah. Setting a timer. For that I need my phone. “Just setting a timer for the peppers. It was set for only a few minutes. I was trying to remember what I used it for last.”

  That should get her off my case. I turn away from her as I unlock my phone and pull up the timer.

  Callie opens the fridge, grabbing a stick of string cheese. “I don’t believe you for a second, Genny, but I don’t have time to figure you out right now. Would you mind making me a salad? I’ve been working on this stupid paper and I forgot to eat lunch.”

  “Callie, you know you have to eat every few hours,” I scold her, looking her over for any signs that we’re about to be in the middle of an emergency. “Are you feeling ok? Do you need a soda?”

  “I’m all right. I just need to eat.”

  Shooing her out of the kitchen, I throw together a salad for both of us. I didn’t eat lunch or breakfast, because I was too sick to even think about eating this morning. Speaking of feeling sick, I need to talk to Myra again to figure out how that picture was taken. It’ll have to wait until after lunch; Callie’s already suspicious.

  After sitting with her at the cluttered dining room table to eat, I ask, “What time did you get in last night?”

  “It wasn’t late, you were still up. You and Myra were trashed! And loud! I could hear you two giggling all night long. What were you up to?”

  “Ugh, I don’t even remember. It’s all a bit of a blur. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was bringing the alcohol. She usually brings wine, I didn’t expect her to show up with tequila.”

  Callie smiles around her fork. “Oh, you and tequila! I should have joined your little party, so I could watch…” she shakes her head with a dreamy look.

  On the first anniversary of our parents’ death, I got wasted on tequila. I was twenty, and that was the only bottle of alcohol in the house when they died. I thought Callie and Calvin were asleep when I started drinking, but they both came out of their rooms, and I bawled my drunken eyes out about how much I loved them, how they deserved so much more than I could give them, and how I hoped I wasn’t screwing up their lives.

  We cried together then, all three of us. And eventually, we told stories, laughed, sang, and even reenacted some of our favorite memories of our parents.

  That was the first night I felt close to my siblings. That was the night we all started leaning on each other and stopped being so lonely and lost in our grief and pain. It’s also a tradition we carry on every year.

  It’s also generally the only time I drink tequila, because tequila is my truth serum. And the anniversary of our parents’ death is the only time I’ll allow myself to cry in front of my siblings. Or anyone else. I don’t really do feelings unless I’m all alone with no c
hance of anyone interfering with my pity parties.

  “What kind of shenanigans did you get into that you’re regretting today? That’s probably what the Oh Lord was about earlier.”

  “You caught me,” I mumble, hanging my head. “I was drunk texting. I didn’t get a chance to look through them yet. I can tell you that I scare myself sometimes.”

  “Who were you texting?”

  Hmm. What do I tell her? I haven’t talked to her about Friday yet. Normally, she doesn’t get home until late on Friday nights, so there’s a chance she won’t ever know if I have company. If it’s one of those random times where she does come home, she’s going to find a surprise when I’m here with Walker.

  I don’t bring guys here. Ever.

  I should give her some kind of a heads up. “A new friend.”

  She gives me a judgey look, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes. She knows I have a sex life. There are times when I don’t come home. She always notices, and I always tell her I was with a friend. Right now, I do my best to plead my innocence. “Not that kind of friend! Really, just a friend this time.”

  Despite my efforts to change it, Walker and I are just friends. We haven’t done any touching at all. Other than that hot-as-fuck hug when he fixed my battery. The fact that he can turn me on with just his words and a look or two is beside the point.

  Callie stands up, acting like she’s reaching for my empty salad bowl, then grabbing my phone and running from the room, instead. “Will your texts confirm that claim?”

  Shit!

  Running after her, I curse myself for never changing the password after she broke into my phone the last time she stole it. “Callie, please don’t open that! I don’t even remember-”

  “Eww!” she gasps, stopping in her tracks. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a picture of you doing that? I never would have looked! I need to scrub my eyeballs! Genny, that’s so gross! And totally not something you send to just a friend!”

  “Give it back!”

  “Wait!” she cries, holding up her hand as she scrolls through my phone. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill her. I don’t even know what I said to him yet. “Jesus! Are you always this forward?”