Um.
My mouth breaks into a smile and he raises his eyebrows, pointing over at me.
“See? This is why I like pop music.” When he starts snapping his fingers and biting his lower lip, I draw the line.
“Jesus, okay. I get it. Please stop.” Zayden laughs, ruffling up the side of his head that still has hair. I resist the urge to reach out and trace one of the stars he's shaved onto his scalp. He's just a little bit cute though, right? I refuse to admit that I like him—even a little. “You're really doing all this to help me out? Just because you're a nice guy?”
“I've got a white knight disorder,” he says as he glances over at me with those gorgeous eyes of his. They're the same color as the lichen that clings to the sides of the trees in my sister's backyard. Pale, but pretty, mysterious. Ugh. “That's why I have so many exes. I know they're bad news, but I want to help 'em out, you know?”
“And that has nothing to do with sex?”
“Well, that's just a consolation prize.” He gives me a look that's a lot less cute than the last one. It makes me squirm, the way his eyes rake over my body. “If it was just sex I wanted, I can get that, too. But I always end up getting tangled in these,” he gestures with his right hand and I find myself mesmerized by his tattoos, “fucked up relationships.”
“Do you think that speaks more to your character than to your million exes? Maybe there's something wrong with you and not them?”
“Ooooh.” Zayden taps his right shoulder with his left hand and makes a sizzling sound. “Ouch. Burn, much? You could be right, I guess.” He looks over at me and his face gets that … look again, like he's about to drive his hips into mine. I squirm and wiggle in my seat, squeezing my thighs tight against the sudden pulse between them. “So tell me, what's my problem then?”
“How should I know? We”—I gesture between the two of us—“are not in a relationship.”
“Sure we are. Any connection with another person is a relationship. It's how you define that relationship that matters. Me and you, we're friends now.”
“We are not friends. We are strangers. Strangers. And you are a non-nanny that's watching my kids for free and eating all my organic applesauce. Are you sure this isn't a scam? Are you trying to pull one over on me?”
“I stuck twenty bucks in your purse when you weren't looking, to cover the cost of the food we've been eating. Now shut up and get some ice cream with me. When you need to, you don't think hard enough. When you don't, you think too much.”
Zayden pulls up to the curb outside one of the Old Town shops. The streets are made of red bricks, and the city has managed to maintain the original horse hitching posts and streetlights from way back when. The whole area is made up of Victorian shops with fine architectural details and bright colors. In all the flower beds and at the bases of all the trees are crushed up white oyster shells.
Welcome to Eureka, California, USA. Population 30,000. Nightlife: none. Seafood: plenty. Gods: one covered in tattoos and piercings. Clues: none because I have no idea what to do about him.
With a sigh, I shove open my door and climb out, waiting while Zayden unhooks Sadie from her car seat and puts her in a fold out stroller. When she's successfully strapped in, he looks up at me and smiles, nodding his chin across the street at a place called Seaside Coffee and Ice Cream. Must be new because it definitely wasn't here when I was in high school.
“What's your favorite flavor?” Zay asks as he checks both ways and starts us across the street. “Personally, I'm a rainbow sherbet kind of a guy, but …” He leans over and breathes hot against my ear. “If I'm licking a scoop off the body of a beautiful woman, I'll take just about any flavor.”
I pull away from him and toss a look his direction.
“I'm still not sure what I'm doing with you. Even if it started off as a joke, you still lied to me. And besides, I never said I wanted an ongoing fuck buddy scenario with you.” Zay pushes the stroller, looking ridiculously sexy in his black boots, grungy jeans and tight t-shirt, very edgy and cool. With the white and blue stroller and the soft skinned baby inside of it, he's ten times more attractive. I notice other women staring enviously at me as we make our way down the brick sidewalk towards the front of the shop.
It smells heavenly when we step inside, like espresso and vanilla, the soothing sounds of brewing coffee and the clack of laptop keys making for a pleasant atmosphere. The walls on either side and in front of us are made entirely of brick, looming up two stories into old wooden rafters. I guess if I have to live in this town, I could find a worse place to hang out and do homework.