Virgin Flyer

My hair looked like I’d been electrocuted.

I regretted the tip I’d given the barista. Any twink worth his salt(-rimmed margarita glass) would have given me some kind of warning about the hair situation before letting me out of the coffee shop. Asshole.

Nevertheless, I noticed a little swing in my step as I made my way to the nearest train station and back to my apartment. Waffles and Socrates voiced their disapproval on my overnight disappearance the minute I walked through the door, so my first order of business was feeding the beasts. After that, I stepped into the bathroom intending to take a shower but stopped myself when I noticed a small red mark on my collarbone.

I ran a fingertip over it and grinned. In high school, the drum major in our marching band had started dating the most popular baseball player at our school. One night Cade had shown up at marching band practice wearing Jackson’s baseball team hoodie like some big badge of honor. It was his way of flaunting his new status as Jackson’s boyfriend. Or maybe it was Jackson’s way of claiming Cade as his own. Either way, I remembered feeling envious. The hoodie was “proof” there was a relationship there.

That’s how I felt looking at my very first hickey. And if a photo of it ended up on my phone to record it for all eternity, it was nobody’s business but my own.

I pretty much floated through the rest of my day, dressing in my favorite jeans and sweater, walking to the market for the week’s groceries, and even splurging on a little bundle of daisies that were on sale in the produce section. Waffles would probably shred them the minute I put them in a jelly jar vase, but at least the flowers would be a nice change from the gray winter sky outside my window.

Late in the day, I got a text from Chris asking me to meet him at one of our favorite sports bars to share some wings and watch the hockey game together. My heart kicked up in excitement as I responded I’d meet him in thirty minutes.

When I walked into the pub, I saw him right away. He sat at a booth halfway down the side wall of the restaurant and was scrolling through his phone. The gray-and-red checked scarf I’d given him for Christmas was still wrapped around his neck, and seeing him in it made me feel warm inside.

“Hey,” I said, peeling off my coat and sliding into the booth. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

He looked up and smiled, setting his phone down and stretching his neck from side to side. “Nah. I was visiting Hattie, so it took me a while to get here.”

The news surprised me. He rarely had time in his busy work schedule to go by Wilton Manor to see his great-aunt.

“How was she?” I asked, pulling the menu open on the off chance there’d been any changes in the past week. There hadn’t. “Did she have good color in her cheeks?”

Chris’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Did she look healthy or pasty?” I couldn’t tell him she’d had a little anemia last week, but I was curious to know if she was coming out of it since they’d started her on iron supplements.

“She looked normal. Like she always does. I don’t know. What are you getting? Want to split the big platter?”

I nodded. “Did your dad go too? And Grandpa Banks?”

Grandpa Banks was good at checking in on his sister, but his son Mike rarely made it over there to see her. Mike was CEO of the family business and even busier than Chris. They owned a very large medical consulting company which was why both Mike and Chris were always offering for me to come work for them. They claimed they wanted my help with the medical consulting, but I worried my full-time job would actually be personal nurse to Grandpa Banks.

I adored Grandpa Banks, but his biggest medical challenges at the moment were diabetes and mild dementia. If I came to work as his nurse, I’d be more of a babysitter than a medical professional.

Chris nodded. “Yeah. It’s Hattie’s birthday. We brought her a cake.”

I opened my mouth to correct him. Hattie’s birthday wasn’t until tomorrow. The entire staff had already signed a card, and my supervisor had ordered special Chicago Cubs pennants to pin up in her room. But before I could say any of that, our server came by to deliver our beers and take our food order. By the time she’d left, Chris was telling me about a big hospital contract his dad had closed.

“Dad asked me again to get you on board,” he continued. “Said to offer you whatever it takes.”

I finished a sip of my beer before asking what he was talking about.