Removing his hand from my leg, he places it back on the steering wheel. I find myself wishing he hadn’t. “I noticed Brad sniffing around you today,” he says a few minutes later.
“Yeah. I think I wounded his pride by telling him I wasn’t interested.”
“You told him that?”
“I told him last week. I’m guessing by his actions today he didn’t take me seriously.”
“Want me to have a talk to him?” he offers turning his head in my direction.
“No,” I laugh. “I can just imagine what you’d say. I’m a big girl. I can handle him.”
“You’re a big girl?” he asks sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. He’s suppressing a smile though, so I know he’s joking. “Do you have mirrors in your house?”
“Ha ha,” I reply as I reach over and playfully punch him in the arm. We both start laughing. I still have no idea where this thing is going between us, but I’m glad we’re kind of okay again.
When he doesn’t take the turn-off leading towards our street, I’m surprised. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“I’ve got to pick something up. I thought maybe we could grab a burger while we’re out.”
“I’d like that,” I tell him. It both pleases and surprises me that he’d want to hang out with me.
We pull up outside the place we ate at the other day. We even sit in the same booth. “You want the same thing again?” he asks. “I still can’t believe you ate all of that last time. Do you have hollow legs or something?”
“No,” I shrug. “I’ve always been a big eater.” He smiles and shakes his head.
“I don’t know where you put it. There’s nothing of you.”
While waiting for our food to arrive, we fall into easy conversation. Nothing dreary like last time, thankfully. When he’s not being a douche he’s actually quite funny. This would have to be the best we’ve ever gotten on.
“Thanks for bringing me here,” I say a while later as we leave the restaurant. “You’re actually not that bad when you’re being nice,” I joke, although I’m deadly serious. He drapes his arm over my shoulder.
“You’re pretty alright, too, for an annoying little kid,” he laughs. I playfully elbow him in the side. “I’m just messing with you. Hanging with you isn’t as painful as I thought it would be.” I smile because I know in his twisted sort of way that’s a compliment. He leads me towards Mr. Gregory’s shop.
“You’re not going to put more parts on hold are you? Don’t you think you should wait until you can afford the other ones first?” I ask.
“Actually, I’m here to pick them up,” he replies.
“I thought you didn’t have the money for them.” It makes me instantly suspicious.
“I didn’t. Let’s just say I happened to come into a little bit of money yesterday,” he says winking. My heart drops. I was right. He did go and see that whore-bag, his ex-landlady. I feel like I’m going to be sick. He promised me he wouldn’t go back there.
“Do you mind if I go and wait in the car?” I ask, trying my best to play it cool.
“Sure. You okay?”
“Yeah. I think I just ate too much,” I reply, forcing out a smile. He chuckles.
“You certainly can eat a lot for a squirt.”
“Ha ha,” I say sarcastically, holding my hand out for his car keys. Tears burn my eyes as I leave the shop. I take a few deep breaths to will the tears away, but a few manage to spill over. I quickly wipe them away with the back of my hand. I can’t believe he went back there. At least before he was doing it for his mum, for rent and for food. To sell your body for car parts though, that’s shameful.
Once I’m seated in the car, I pull my iPod and earplugs out of my bag. I need a distraction otherwise I might do something incredibly stupid, like burst into tears. I’m hurt. Maybe I have no right to be, but I am.
Flicking through my playlists, I find what I need. Placing the plugs into my ears, I press play. The first song booms to life. This playlist, funnily enough, is called ‘Distraction’. Perfect for what I need right now.
It has no sad or sappy songs on it, nothing that would make me sad or possibly cry. I actually made this list up last year. Every year on the anniversary of my mum’s death, or her birthday, my dad goes MIA. They’re the only two days of the year I cannot count on him for anything. He locks himself in the bedroom he once shared with my mother, with a bottle of scotch, and I don’t see him again until the next morning.