Birthday Girl

He hauls himself out of the booth, his scruffy buzz cut mussed as he yawns. We make our way toward the door, and I pass the bar, tossing a few bills on it in front of Jordan.

She gives me a knowing look. “Didn’t we talk about this?”

“I’m just a customer.”

The look in her eyes says she’s not buying my reason for tipping her, but the humor in her gaze says she’ll let it go. This time.

We leave and walk across the street to Dutch’s Tahoe and climb in.

“You didn’t really want to wait around until two, did you?” he asks as we fasten our seatbelts.

Actually…

“No,” I tell him, deciding I don’t have the energy to get into it. “Thanks for the ride.”

He pulls away from the curb, and I slouch down a little, moving the seat back for more leg room. His wife is usually in this seat. I lie my head back, and into my hand, closing my eyes.

I feel the car make a U-turn and then he speeds down the street, heading home. It’s quiet for a few minutes as he finds a satellite station, and the glare of the street lights glow through my closed lids. It’s a short drive home, but even still, I would’ve liked to have been the one to bring her. Who knows if that shithead ex tries to come around in the next hour? Will she be walking to the car with anyone?

I’m not just worried about her safety, though. I have this urge to make sure she’s okay and taken care of, and while I’ve tried to morph it into a “fatherly” type of responsibility, it’s not.

It never will be.

I like what I feel when I see her and talk to her and think about her. Even when we fight. And I have to admit it to myself—I am attracted to her.

I hate it, but I can’t ignore and pretend it’s not there anymore. I need to deal with it.

It doesn’t have to be a big deal, though. We go through life running into people we’re attracted to all the time. It happens, and you can’t help it. It doesn’t mean I’d try anything. I just feel guilty it happened with her.

And the fact that she’s in my house makes it harder.

Cole really did get the shit-end of the stick with parents. What a fucking piece of work I am.

I can’t help it, but I can make sure I don’t act on it.

She doesn’t make it easy, though, getting into it with me as easily as she does. She knows how to press my buttons. Almost as if she was made for it.

“She seems like a good kid,” Dutch breaks the silence.

I open my eyes, the lids heavy from the long day. “Yeah.” I sigh. “She’s quiet. Clean. I barely know she’s in the house.”

“That’s great.” I can see him glancing over at me from time to time. “Getting along okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

I feel him shrug. “She seems nervous around you.”

I chuckle. He could say the same for me if he were looking close enough.

“Well, I can be intimidating,” I joke.

“Yeah, she looked like she wanted to straddle your hard, intimidating cock right there in the bar.”

My eyes pop open completely, and I glare over at him. “Are you kidding me? What the fuck?”

“Oh, please,” he shoots back. “You’re telling me you didn’t see her fidgeting and biting her lip at just the sight of you when she brought you your favorite beer?”

She was?