"No, no, you've got a lot on your mind, too,” he said. Luckily, before things got even deeper, the waitress re-appeared with a steaming tray of fries in hand. After setting their drinks down in front of them, she traipsed away and they started in on their feast.
As they ate, Tawny wondered over and over again what she could say to make things better for him--what she might have wanted someone to say to her when she'd found out that first day. But there was nothing that could rectify this or make it normal, make it right.
So, instead, she settled on something else.
"I am a Destiny's Child girl, you were right."
He looked up at her, confused for a moment, but she pressed on.
"When you asked earlier. I like Destiny's Child, but it's only because we were Stateside when Survivor was popular. I mostly listened to my mom's old mix tapes when I was growing up because we couldn't always get American radio."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Military brat, remember? I didn't get to watch a lot of TV or listen to a lot of different music, but if you ever want to know the ins and outs of Pakistani market towns, I'm your girl." She smiled at him and plucked another fry off the plate between them.
"I didn't know that," he said.
"And, you know, if I had to pick, I'd go with Heaven Can Wait. Paradise by the Dashboard Ligh' gets too much play."
"Agreed." He nodded, then stuffed another fry in his mouth before picking up his coffee. "So what was on your mom's old mix tapes?"
"God, those things should never see the light of day." She laughed. "You know the musical Mary Poppins? Well, one of her mixes was just songs from that combined with, like, old-school rap music. I’m talking, like, Sugar Hill Gang kind of stuff. So, you'd go from singing Rapper's Delight to Chim Chimerie. I do not recommend it."
Luke grinned and took a sip of his coffee, and for the next twenty minutes they talked over all the songs he'd picked out on the jukebox, why he'd picked them, and whether or not anyone in the bar would want to hear them. Credit to him that he laughed ruefully when, as a general rule, they did not. Still, when the fries had finally gone and his coffee cup was empty, he left some money on the table and let her lead him out to her car.
"I can walk home," he insisted, but she shook her head.
"Nope, we're going to make sure you get there safely. Now, come on. You've just got to tell me where to go."
The drive took less than two minutes, and when they got to his house, she walked up to the little apartment above the garage with him, keeping one hand on his muscular bicep to make sure he didn’t tumble down the steps. The coffee and food had helped, but it wasn’t pixie dust, either. Still, she couldn’t help recalling what those muscles had looked like in the moonlight.
Dirty girl.
They stepped into the apartment and she glanced around as he flicked on a lamp. It was a small space, but it was nice, sparsely furnished--complete with a little kitchenette and a tiny bathroom. Without waiting for instruction, she made her way toward the medicine cabinet, opened it, and poured some ibuprofen into her hand.
"Okay, glass of water, please," she said.
"I don't need water. I'm fine."
"Luke," she reprimanded, and apparently something in her tone was enough to send him to the cabinet for a glass. Within moments, he'd swallowed the ibuprofen and downed the glass of water, but just to be safe, she led him toward the bed and tucked him in.
"You don't have to do this," he said, and she was happy to notice that the slur in his voice had nearly disappeared.
"I know," she said.
He tugged on the bottom of her T-shirt. "This doesn't look like you."
"It's not mine."
He knit his brows. "Whose is it?"
"An ex-boyfriend's."
"I don't like it,” he muttered. “I don’t want to see you in another man's clothes."
His hand dropped from the hem of her shirt as every muscle in her body tensed.
She swallowed hard. "Ok, um, I should probably go."
She moved toward the door, but the sound of his voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Tawny?”
She turned back to meet his gaze in the dim light.
“Yeah?”
“Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “That night?"
She blinked. "I didn't think it was that important."
She shouldn't have, she knew she shouldn't have, but she moved closer to him. She couldn't help herself. It was like he was steel and she had swallowed a bag full of magnets.
"You should have told me. If I had known, I would have made it better for you."
She opened her mouth, trying to find a way to tell him that it would have been impossible to make that night any better than it was, but there simply weren't words to describe it.