Dirty Curve

“What can I get you to drink, Mr. Cruz?”

“What time you get off, Miss ... wait. What’s your last name?”

Her eyes dart to the coffeepot she’s reaching for and lifts it up from its base. “It’s Sanders and I get off at ten.”

She heads down the aisle, refilling an elderly couple’s glasses before moving to the opposite side of the room.

Well okay then.

Looks like I’m here until ten.

Deciding to wait in the truck after I get my order, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, she’s knocking on the window.

I roll it down and her hands come up to grip around the frame.

“You didn’t need to wait for me.” She looks toward the road and back.

“Get in.” I turn the key over.

It takes her a moment, but then she comes around the truck and slips inside. “You knew I worked here, didn’t you?”

“I might have seen you in your apron one night.”

“Seen me ... where?”

“Headed home.”

“Headed home…” She trails off with suspicion. “Tobias?”

At the stop sign, I meet her big brown, uneasy eyes. “I went back to the bar a couple times, not once with the intention of stepping foot inside it.”

Her chest rises with a full breath.

“Why?” she wonders, so I tell her.

“I don’t like the idea of you being out at night alone, so I made sure you weren’t.”

“Lots of people walk home alone at night.”

“I don’t want you to be one of them.”

She opens her mouth but closes it just as quickly.

“I’ll pick you up every night I can, if you let me.” A grin slips over me. “And if you don’t, it’ll be like the first night, and I’ll follow you anyway.”

She lets out a small laugh, but tension quickly builds along her brows, and she looks away. “So, you know where I live then?”

“Nope.” I shake my head and in my peripheral, I spot hers turn toward me. “Once you were safe and with the campus security, I went home.” After I answer her question, I realize something, so I put her mind at ease. “If you don’t want me to know where you live, I can take you to campus, or you can walk from my house, which is just across the street on the far-left end.”

She doesn’t say anything but begins tugging at the hem of her long-sleeved shirt, so I turn onto the main road that leads to the front of the campus, but just as we pass the park side, she tells me to turn, bringing me down a narrow street about as big as an alleyway that’s lined with small rows of apartments. They’re the kind that look like they might have been a motel at one point but were broken up and sold in chunks. Some are nicer than others, but they’re all sort of jammed together.

“You can stop here,” she says, unbuckling her seat belt and turning to me. “Thank you, for tonight and for ... the nights I didn’t know you were there.”

“You mean I didn’t just win a gold medal in the art of stalker mode?”

A laugh spurts from her and the strain in her shoulders disappears.

“No, you didn’t. Bronze maybe, but you know.” She lifts a shoulder, a small smirk playing at her lips.

“Hey now. I haven’t been reduced to bronze in years. Okay, maybe I should have followed you home.”

Her smile is wide, but she turns away, looking back with only her eyes. “Seriously, thanks. Sometimes it is kind of scar—”

Meyer’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing out the front window, and then in a rush, throws the door open and jumps from the cab.

“Hey, what—?!” I shout, quickly rushing out after her.

What the hell?

She pretty much runs forward.

“It’s okay, let me get you settled, okay?” someone says, half their body sticking out an old green Camry.

“Bianca!” Meyer shouts. “What happened?” she panics.

The girl, who I can now see is Bianca, whips out in alarm, but swiftly settles when she realizes it’s Meyer approaching what must be her car.

“Oh, thank god!” She steps from the door. “I think Bay’s mimi is in your bag, and I can’t for the life of me find the spare. I was going to run out and get one.”

“Oh shit.” Meyer’s words are stressed, but her body seems to relax with Bianca’s answer, and she starts digging through her purse, pulling out and holding up something in her palm.

Bianca throws her hands up in a praising motion as Meyer slips past her, poking her head into the back seat.

That’s when Bianca spots me, a shrill shriek leaving her. “What the fuck!”

I chuckle, lifting my hat from my head and flipping it backward. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

At my voice, Meyer freezes, half her body stuck inside the vehicle, as if she forgot I was here, or didn’t realize I got out of the truck when she did.