All of this boils down to one thing: I need to find another plan. One that doesn’t involve putting my life in danger. Which is why I’m sitting at a table, in a crowded bar, on a Saturday night, writing in a notebook. Not just any notebook. No, this one is a pink glitter notebook with a matching glitter pen. Whenever I write on the paper, the ink is glittery too, and that makes me smile. This is needed since what I’m writing is a list of names. Names of men I know. Men who might want to donate some baby batter for the cause.
I realize that sounds pitiful. It, however, is not as pitiful as the fact that the list has a whopping four names on it. One of those is half crossed out because, well, it’s Tommy and only in pure desperation would I be able to lower my pride to go there. The other name is a coworker and I’m not even a hundred percent sure that he in fact has the correct parts. I’m not being mean or anything, but he has boobs that rival mine. They could be man boobs, but I’ve always wondered. The next name is Bobby Crenshaw, my ex who wasn’t a great catch for sure, but I know him, and he’s comfortable. It helps that I know he could do what was needed—even if it wouldn’t be very eventful.
The last name on the list is one I keep circling over and over and I hate myself for it. White. I need to get him out of my mind and definitely out of my heart. With that in mind I make a line through his name.
There’s only one other name that I can think of that might work. So, I write it down now. One other name: Green Lucas. White’s brother. I know him almost as well as I know White. He’s had horrible taste in women, especially since he’s been in love with Tommy’s ex Cynthia most of his life. That aside, he’s sweet, honest, a great father, and a good friend. He could work. He may have to work, if I go this route. I sigh, closing the notebook and sticking the pen in the coiled spine.
“Let’s go.”
My head jerks up to see White standing over me. His face is tight in anger, his tanned skin has a light blush, and his hair is rumpled. Frustration is coming off of him in waves. He’s wearing tight jeans and a long-sleeved blue button-up shirt. He looks good, unbelievably good, and that irritates me. Can’t the man have one night where he has a bad hair day? A wart on his nose? A mole on his neck shaped like a big toe with hair growing out of it? Something. Anything besides perfection.
“Can’t you ever look bad? Is that so much to ask?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” I sigh, taking a sip of my beer to discover that it’s stale. I suppose I’ve been nursing it for way too long. I hold up a hand, motioning for the waitress. White reaches over and grabs it, pushing it down.
"What are you doing?" he demands.
"Ordering a drink."
"I think you've had enough, Kayla."
"Actually, White, I've barely had anything. This is only my second beer and it's flat. I want another one."
"We need to leave."
"You should go ahead and do that then, but I'm not leaving."
"I'm not going to let you do this, Kayla. It's not happening!"
"Order a beer? Why the hell not?"
"No, not order a beer. You're not going to hook up with some asshole tonight. It's not happening," he repeats.
"I don't think it's really any of your business," I growl, pissed off because he thinks he has the right to dictate to me.
"You're my best friend."
"Okay, fine. Did I tell you not to sleep with Lori Petrotski?"
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"The girl you dated my senior year in high school, remember?"
"Oh. Jesus, I forgot about her. She was following me around like a little lost puppy."
"More like a dog in heat," I correct him.
"Yeah, so I decided to throw her a bone," he recalls with a smirk.
"Exactly. I knew she wasn't your type. I knew she was way too clingy, but I didn't take it upon myself to warn you to stay away."
"God, she was. The girl had serious problems. She followed me to training camp that year. She was waiting for me in my dorm one night, did I tell you? Fuck, I still don't know how she managed it. I got in bed and there she was. Told me she was keeping the bed warm for me. Started talking about what we would do when we got out of school, like our lives were set in stone. We'd have a brick house, two kids, the works."
"See? So you had to learn for yourself. You kicked her out of bed and sent her on her way. I didn't get involved.”
"Well, not exactly. I gave her one more night to remember me by."
"God, I can't believe you."
"I'm joking, mostly. Anyway, that was years ago. I'm not that person anymore and that has nothing to do with the here and now."