“Definitely.” I unclick my seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride, Rex.”
“Anytime, Babe. It’s what I’m here for.” That’s the second time Rex has called me Babe. I kind of like it. I lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. He threads his fingers through my hair, bringing my lips to his faster than I can pull away, although I’m not complaining. His tongue slides into my mouth, dancing with mine just long enough to make me want more. Rex pulls back and tips his forehead to mine. “Just a reminder of what you’re missing out on tonight.”
I swallow hard and lean back in my seat. It’s 4:59. “I should go,” I tell him before I say something stupid, like admit I want to go to his house after work. I climb out and Rex is gone and around the corner before I can get inside to peek out the window.
“Him again,” Cooper growls.
I grab a rag and the spray bottle from behind the counter and begin wiping down tables. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Coop.”
“Yeah well gold digger isn’t a good look on you,” he says under his breath.
“Excuse me?” I rear back.
“I can’t think of any other reason you’d be with Rex, besides the fact that he’s loaded and can take care of you.” Cooper throws the napkin container at the wall. Thank goodness the place is empty. Mamma T would have a fit if he acted this way in front of customers.
“Fuck you, Cooper.” I’ve never said that to him before. Not in a meaningful way. Cooper’s mouth hangs open. He promptly shuts up and picks up the napkin holder and the napkins that have flown across the floor. I thought telling Cooper what happened last summer would have made him a little more understanding.
Apparently, I was wrong.
18
Piper
Roses, dark red, long stemmed with trimmed thorns, and wrapped in deep purple tissue paper. I’ve never been given roses, or any flower for that matter. In the land of the wealthy, flowers are exclusive to Valentine's day and romantic gestures. Both of which require having someone who likes you and up until recently I have either been friend-zoned or danger-zoned.
However, on the other side of the tracks, flowers are reserved for funerals. A sign of condolence to help decorate the grieving family’s home because after the cost of a casket and the service, they usually didn’t have anything left.
“What am I supposed to do with these?”
Rex extends the bouquet to me then sticks his hands in the pockets of his khakis. The muscles of his arms flex underneath the short-sleeved navy polo. The sleeves tightening around his bicep.
He’s so hot.
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘oh, my gosh, Rex! Thank you!’”
Cheeky bastard. I bat my dark lined lashes and flash the cheesiest smile. I should get an award for this one, I don't think I've ever done anything so fake. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a shit eating grin.
I look down at my roses. Their fragrance fills the space between us. The soft petals waiting to be touched. If I plucked each one, would they say he loves me? Or does he love me not? “Seriously though, what do I do with them?”
“Stuff ‘em in your locker. Braid them into a crown. I don’t care. I just thought, after everything that happened yesterday, you could use a smile. Gretchen would always smile when her oldest had flowers delivered.”
“So, I remind you of Gretchen now?”
“Fuck no. You’re way hotter.”
“You’re not supposed to think your nanny is hot.”
“Have you seen my nanny?” He shakes his head and whistles. “Just kidding.”
“You’re weird.”
“And you’re pretty.”
The bell rings. I look up at the ceiling tiles. I want more time together. I like how easy things are with Rex. How talking and touching and existing come without fail when we’re together, but we only have two minutes.
I hand Rex back the flowers and open my locker. Everything is organized to a fault. Last year, I bought a pink wire shelf from Target to help me get the most out of my available space.