I did that. I put the beard burn on her face, and I made those lips look all kissed-up.
I also can’t want more. More is impossible. “There are things you don’t know about me, okay? I’m no catch.”
She crosses her arms over her chest like she’s protecting herself, but still gives a little smile. “You know, I used to call myself ‘damaged,’” she says.
That’s not the response I was expecting. I don’t know what to say. She’s beautiful and young, and as far as I can tell, she’s perfect. I also know from experience that sometimes we hide our deepest scars and our ugliest, most twisted shit way on the inside. You gotta dig down to see it. That’s what I count on, anyway.
“You shouldn’t.” It sounds like the wrong thing to say, but I’m not sure what else is right.
She shrugs. “I don’t as much now. I’m not saying I don’t still have issues because I totally do, but...” Her index finger twists up into her hair, and instead of looking childish, the gesture looks thoughtful. “AJ was telling me tonight about this bad thing that happened to him and how he feels like he’s lucky because it could have been so much worse. I guess I was thinking maybe the same is true for me. I’ve had some real big stumbles, but I’m still here, and I’ve never kissed a guy who looks at me the way you do. Maybe it’s the margaritas, but I decided maybe I deserve to be looked at that way. I deserved to kiss a guy and let it feel good.”
She bites her lip again and stares. I guess she’s waiting for an answer.
I’m waiting to remember why I don’t want to kiss her again.
“That’s a lot of deep thinking about a kiss.” Which also feels like the wrong thing to say. My blood’s all gone south. Fuck me.
She smiles slightly. “I hope I can make it simple. I thought if I kissed you it would feel nice, and it did. It’s just that for me, something as simple as a kiss didn’t always feel comfortable or good. It’s a big deal for me, but it doesn’t have to be one for you. Okay? Goodnight, Jake.”
I don’t say anything else as she backs into the room and closes the door. What the fuck do I say? Thanks? In that case, let’s go in that room there and finish what we started? What the fuck are you talking about? I’ll tell you my sob story if you tell me yours? It doesn’t matter now. She’s closed the door and I need to go.
I can’t know her story. She can’t know mine. Even if I wanted to tell her, she’d only run the other way.
How safe would she feel if she knew I’d killed a man? I don’t even have to ask.
8. SELF-LOATHING
Jake
I’ve gotta get this girl out of town. For days I call around to scrap yards I’ve already called before, and a few more that would be a ridiculous hike to get to so I can be sure my bases are covered. Sweet talking the folks at the manufacturer to try and get Cassie a deal on a refurbished engine gets me a promise of an extra-beefy warranty but only a ten-percent discount on the price. I know she needs more knocked off the total, but I figure I’ll take it to her anyway as soon as I clear my plate for the day.
I’m filling out paperwork on my last inspection when Big Bart bellies up to the service counter, smelling like cigarettes and BO. “Jake, my man.”
I’m not his anything, and I hate when he gets into my business. “What’s up, Bart?”
“When we gonna get your girl’s car out of the lot?”
She’s not my girl. I’m not your man. What’s your fucking problem?
I rub my forehead and try to act like I’m thinking about his question. “Soon as I can find a replacement engine.”
“Call Buster.” He jerks his stubby thumb at the prominent sign on our back wall.
“I’ll have to try later on I guess.” I scratch the back of my neck and pretend like I’m focused on my notes. He doesn’t need to know I already called them and I already told Cassie how much it would cost. For what she would be getting, the deal was good, but she still looked like she wanted to cry.
She may not be my girl, but that doesn’t mean I want to hurt her. Which is why I want to get her way away from me. Away from this town where guys like me and Dante came to have quiet lives after the world’s fucked us over royally and puked us out.
I hang up the keys for the Toyota I worked on last and file the papers. “Hey, I’m gonna run and grab some coffee across the street before they close. Tell the boss I’ll be in early tomorrow.”
“Coffee. Sure. Have fun, dude.” He snorts at me like he’s on to my big secret, and I don’t fucking care. He’s got a pregnant wife at home, ready to pop any day now, who never lets him go anywhere except work and the grocery store. He’s gotta get his jollies making other peoples’ lives more interesting.