“YOLO means ‘you only live once’. A thot is a girl that apparently is a whore, or someone that will sleep with anyone for attention. And Bye, Felicia pretty much means ‘get the fuck out of here with your bullshit’.”
My eyes expanded, and I couldn’t help the laugh that spewed out of me. “Wow… see! Like I said. This generation comes up with some pretty wild shit.”
She shook her head, still fighting that cute little grin. Her arm happened to brush mine, a bolt of electricity lighting my core. As if she felt that same spark, she looked up at me, but she didn’t dare move away. The smoothness of her skin on mine, the flesh on flesh, was all too familiar, and I refused to kill this moment by pulling away. I couldn’t be a pussy, pretend nothing was here when there was clearly so much.
So many unanswered questions.
So many unshared moments.
So many times I’ve wanted to make her mine repeatedly, take her in every position, hear her whisper and then cry my name, hold me close as our lips molded, our breathing entwined, deep in passionate trances.
I placed my hand on top of the one she had resting on her lap. Moments later and the wild girl appeared over Chloe’s shoulder, her drink sloshing all over the countertop, interrupting our connected gazes. Chloe turned quickly to take the drink from her and placed it on the counter before she could spill it on our clothes.
“Chloe,” the girl whined, “can we pleeaaassseee go back to Brix. I was having so much fun there!”
“I know, but you swore we could come to Dane’s at twelve, Mariah.” Chloe frowned.
“Yah… I know, but…ugh.” She looked around in revulsion. “We’re not having fun here.” She pouted her bottom lip, placing her elbow on the edge of the counter. She then zoned in on me, her hooded eyes narrowing. “Oh my gosh… you are so fucking hot!”
I pressed my lips, nodding in appreciation.
“No seriously…” The Mariah girl stood up straight. “Is he why you wanted to come here? My fucking goodness he’s beautiful.”
Chloe’s cheeks burned, and she purposely avoided my eyes.
“He looks sooo familiar though…” Her lips twisted as she walked around Chloe to get a closer look at me. When it finally registered, she said, “Oh! I know! He totally looks like your friend Izzy! You know, the one we hung out with for spring break last year?”
In an instant, my face went strict, jaw ticking. Reality, like a whirlwind, hit me and I turned forward, looking up at the screen and pulling my hand far away from Chloe’s. I pretended not to notice Marcel looking at me from his end of the bar. I was sure he’d been wondering why I was hanging around my daughter’s friends at a bar… buying them drinks. Snooting it up with her best friend.
Swallowing thickly, I picked up my drink and finished it. When I finally looked at Chloe, she was speechless as well, like she, too, had forgotten about reality. Her head dropped, pulling from our connected line of sight. “How about I take you guys back to Brix?” I offered, sliding off my stool.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to.” She downed her cranberry-vodka and then slammed the empty glass on the marble. “I can take them back.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Mariah butted in. “That was her first drink of the night. So fucking lame, right?” Her laugh came out like more of a cackle, causing her date to join in on the laughter with her. Man, they were annoying little shits. How could she deal with this all night? I’m almost certain that, when I was their age, I wasn’t that obnoxious.
“Come on, Tiny!” Mariah waved for the lanky boy at the bar to follow her outside. When they were long gone, Marcel blew a sigh and picked up their glasses, wiping their area clean. Chloe remained seated, looking at me for a brief moment before dropping her head.
“She doesn’t know who you are,” she murmured, “…if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, I know.” I scratched my chin. “Sure you don’t want me to drop you off?”
She stood from the stool, looking into my eyes as she neared me. My pounding heart caught speed as she placed a hand on top of my shoulder. “I was actually thinking about dropping them off and meeting you… if that’s okay?”
“Shit… yeah. More than okay.”
“Where should we meet?”
I thought of it, and when I pictured the perfect place, I told her, “I’ll text you the address.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Then, she walked past me, her round ass bouncing, heels clicking across the wooden floorboards. Glancing over her shoulder, lips full and supple, she sarcastically asked, “Just try and make it a little public, will you?”
She had no idea. The place I had in mind was more private than a secluded hotel room reserved for a celebrity. With a half-smile on my lips, I watched as she left the bar, her words running back and forth in my head. I leaned my elbows on the counter, sighing as I pulled out my cell phone. Marcel still stood at the bar, clearing his throat.
When I turned around to look at him, his brows were stitched, lips pressed thin. He was a buff guy with a shiny baldhead and a hoop earring in his left ear. His reddish goatee had grown out since the last time I saw him, his grey t-shirt stained with sweat. “Mind telling me what the hell that was?”
“What do you mean?” I pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“The girl,” he gestured towards the door, “…the one that’s about half your age that just walked out of here. Isn’t that little Chloe?”
I glanced down, running my tongue over my teeth. I could have explained it to him, but I just didn’t know how. “Look, Marcel, just pretend you didn’t even see her here.”
He grunted and it just so happened to be the sound of his laughter. “I see plenty of shit going on around here. Trust me, this isn’t the worst of it. Ain’t my business but… be careful, man. And be wise.”
He, of all people, knew what he was talking about. He knew my daughter. I talked about her at least once every time I made an appearance here. Considering he had a daughter himself, I could only imagine what he was thinking.
Did he consider me a pervert?
A dipshit?
An idiot that overpaid for drinks?
As all of that clicked in my brain, I started to think… what if an older man came onto my daughter? A man that I thought I could trust? A man that was supposed to look out for her, not fuck her brains out?
Fuck no. I couldn’t even fucking imagine a man my age touching my daughter. My child. My fucking life.
Dropping another wad of bills on the counter for Chloe’s forgetful friends and myself, I marched for the exit and hopped into my car, cranking it and driving to the one place I should have been all along.
Home.
Away from the fantasies.
Away from what wasn’t meant to be.
Away from Chloe.
Twelve
He didn’t text me.
Or respond to the text I sent him. Not even a phone call. At first I was worried, thinking he may have gotten into an accident or maybe caught up with something, but when I saw him casually entering his home with a box of tools the following night, I knew he was avoiding me.
I tried thinking of what may have happened between the time I left him and now. Other than Mariah blabber-mouthing about how he looked like Izzy, I couldn’t think of much. Maybe the mere mention of his daughter’s name was enough to make him realize that he was getting off track—that he couldn’t go back to what we were before.
It couldn’t be that way. He couldn’t hurt her, and he also couldn’t hurt me. Distance was understandable, but all he had to do was tell me. What was all that talk about sharing just one summer? Did he not think of her then? Or was he too far gone in his thoughts and thinking with his dick?