What's Left of Me (14 page)

“If you didn’t want to go to her party, you didn’t need to use me as your excuse.”

“I don’t want to go, and I didn’t use you.
 
We have plans Saturday night.”

“What if I already had plans Saturday?”
 
Sitting at home on the couch with re-runs of
Dexter
counts as plans, right?

“Cancel them.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because I got two scrimmage tickets for the Wild on Saturday.”

The scrimmage games are free and open to the public, but I don’t burst his bubble by letting him know I’m aware of that fact.

“The scrimmage is at three; that doesn’t count as plans for Saturday night. Besides, isn’t it against some work policy to go out with the employees?”

“Are you saying you count this as a date?”

“No!
 
Definitely not a date.”

“It could be.”

“No.
 
Not a date.”

“Okay, then, no.
 
It is not against any policy to go out with your co-workers as friends.
 
Also, while we’re on this subject of friends: friends need to eat, so, yes, to answer your question; our plans would also entail Saturday night.
 
What kind of
friend
would I be if I didn’t make sure you ate dinner?”
 

While I stand there and ponder what he said, he starts to back away toward the door.
 
“I’ll pick you up around eleven on Saturday.
 
It’s almost a two hour drive to the stadium.”
 
He gives me one of his famous winks before turning and leaving me by myself, staring blankly at the doorway.

“Cocky much?” I call after him, but all I get in a response is another chuckle.

The week continues in this fashion.
 
I ride in with Jason, and Parker gives me his charming smiles and winks.
 
We don’t talk much aside from him continually reminding me about Saturday.
 
I finally tell him to stop reminding me or I won’t go.
 
That shuts him up real fast.

I spend Friday night doing some homework and talking with Jean on the phone.
 
She’s been so busy with school and her new job that the only contact we’ve had are brief texts.
 
I didn’t want to tell her about Parker until I got her on the phone.

“Let me get this straight.
 
The guy from the bar is Jason’s intern?”

“
Was
his intern.
 
He’s the new veterinarian, and partner in the clinic.”

There is a loud banging that causes me to flinch and move the phone away from my ear.

“Sorry!
 
I dropped the phone!” she yells as I bring the phone back to my ear.

“It’s okay.”

“This is good, Aundrea!
 
Real good.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you said the sex was amazing.
 
Your night together was spontaneous.
 
And by the sounds of it, he’s trying to get back in your panties, and who knows …
 
I think it’s about time you let loose a little.
 
Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah, that for once you should enjoy what life throws your way.”

Deep down, I know I’m the girl who wants the fairy tale relationship.
 
The type of relationship that is crazy and spontaneous.
 
The one that gives you butterflies at the mention of his name.
 
I want what Genna and Jason have.

What my parents have.

But, in reality—
my
reality—it’s just that: a fairy tale.

Chapter Eight

Saturday morning, I wash my wig, dry it, and three barrel curl it.
 
A plus to having a wig is that I can style my hair while it’s on a stand, making sure I get every piece without having to reach behind my head.
 
Normally, I like to change up my hairstyle and color, but since coming here and helping at the clinic, I can’t change it without someone asking questions.
 
I’m not used to coming to a new place where not everyone knows my past, and I like it.

My insurance only allowed partial coverage for one wig, but my mom found a non-profit agency that helps.
 
I have eight total, and six are of high quality, made with human hair that looks realistic.
 
Eight may seem a little obsessive, but they were the only way I could express myself after I lost my hair.

After I finish curling my hair, I apply some makeup: blush, shimmering brown and nude eye shadow, mascara, and a little eyeliner.

I put on a cute, washed-out pair of jeans, a white tank top, and teal denim jacket.
 
I add some small gold hoop earrings and slip on a pair of white ballet flats.
 
Flats are my favorite to wear for two reasons: they are the most comfortable, and I don’t feel like even more of a giant than I already am when standing next to people.

Making my way outside, I watch as Jason and Genna rake the orange and red leaves that have fallen from the huge maple tree that sits in front of their three bedroom, two-story home.

“Hey, you.
 
Where are you off to this morning?” Genna asks as she stops raking.

“I’m going to Saint Paul for the day to the hockey scrimmage.”

“With who?”

“Parker,” Jason answers.

“Parker?” Genna questions.
 
She is trying hard not to smile.

I didn’t tell her of my plans for precisely this reason.
 
She’s been bugging me to date more, and I didn’t want her to read too much into this day.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I didn’t say I thought anything.”

“We’re going as friends.
 
He knows I’m a Wild fan.
 
Besides, the scrimmage is free, so it’s not like he spent anything on the tickets.”

“Again, I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“I’m just explaining it to you.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Then get that look off of your face!”

She laughs.
 
“What look?”

“The you’re-so-full-of-shit-you-totally-like-him look,” I say.

She giggles.
 
It’s that giggle that lets me know I am 100% correct.

“I don’t think you’re full of shit.
 
I just think you’re blind.
 
Or in denial.”
 
I watch as she turns back to the yard, giving the leaves her undivided attention.

“I’m done with this discussion.
 
It’s a friendly get-together.
 
I’m sure after today he won’t even look in my direction again. Now, end of story.”

Genna shakes her head.
 
“I wasn’t having a discussion.”

There is a deep sigh across from us, and I turn to face Jason.
 
I know he wants to add something to the discussion.
 
Genna follows my same movement.
 
We both stare at him, waiting for him to start talking.

“He got tickets in one of the suites,” he states.

“He got a suite?” I squeak out.

“Well, not the entire suite, but he bought two tickets in a suite,” he replies, obviously unaffected by the news he just shared.
 
I don’t understand why Parker would spend that kind of money on getting us in a suite for a scrimmage, of all things.

“Just friends, Dre?” Genna chimes in, grinning.

I roll my eyes, ignoring her, and walk over to Jason.
 
“He got tickets in a suite?
 
For a scrimmage?
 
From who?”

“Not sure.
 
He just came into work this past week and said you two were going to the scrimmage and that he bought tickets in a suite.
 
I didn’t ask questions.”

“What do you mean you didn’t ask questions?” I ask at the same time Genna says, “You didn’t ask for details?”

Holding up his hands, he looks back and forth between us.
 
“Hold on, ladies.
 
One at a time, please.
 
No, I did not ask questions.
 
We’re men.
 
We don’t get into all that detail shit.
 
What’s the big deal?”

Awesome.
 
He spent however much getting us those tickets and it’s not even a real game!

Genna goes back to raking.
 
“Well, Aundrea, I’d say Parker is going a little past the friend stage.
 
Sounds like a date to me.”

“Me too,” Jason throws in.

I have a feeling this is a date too, but I shake it off.
 
I still can’t get over the fact he spent that kind of money.
 
Who does that?

At exactly eleven o’clock, Parker pulls into my sister’s driveway in a shiny little two-door sports car.
 
My jaw about hits the grass, as does Genna’s.

“Parker,” Jason says, setting down his rake to walk over and greet him by grabbing his hand and giving him a hug.

I take this opportunity to check out his car.
 
I haven’t seen it at the clinic so I can only assume it’s new.
 
I’ve never seen one like this before.
 
It’s a metallic gray with dark tinted windows.
 
I can see droplets of water running along the bottom of car, showcasing the fresh wash.
 
This is a hot car.
 
Shit, this just might be my dream car!

 
Great, now I sound like a guy who is getting a hard-on over a damn car.

I watch as he talks with Jason.
 
He’s wearing light jeans with a fitted, navy polo shirt.
 
There is nothing more I want in this moment than to be either one of those pieces of clothing clinging tightly to his body.
 
Friends.
 
I repeat the word over and over in my head until it sinks in.
 
It never does.

Parker’s eyes meet mine and he smirks.
 
I can’t help the giddiness that takes over, and I give him a warm smile in return.

“Good morning,” he says as he comes to stand directly in front of me.
 

Looking up to meet his gaze, I found my voice.
 
“Hi.”
 
With one look, he has the ability to make my heart flutter.

Parker turns toward my sister who is on the other side of the lawn watching us.
 
He gives her a small wave, and she returns it with a little too much excitement.

“Ready?” he asks.

You have no idea.
 
“Yes.”

He holds out his arm in front of him, gesturing for me to go first.
 
I wasn’t nervous before this, but suddenly the butterflies that have taken over my stomach are all I can seem to concentrate on.

We make our way to the car and I check out the logo on the hood as I head to the passenger door.
 
I don’t know anything about cars but, for the most part, I can make out the manufacturer by the logo.
 
There are only a few I don’t know.
 
This logo is easy.
 
It simply reads Scion in the center of an oval with a fancy “S” behind the word.

Reaching for the handle, I am met with warm fingers.
 
I look up behind me to see Parker.
 
He’s not looking at me, but looking down at the handle as he opens the door.

“Thank you,” I say, still looking at him.

Friends open doors for other friends.
 
Right?

Getting in the car, I sink into a bucket seat.
 
It smells of new car; nothing else.
 
I take a deep breath, soaking in the scent before Parker gets in.
 
I love the new car scent.

You can tell a lot about someone’s personality by their car.

I can tell by Parker’s car that he is without a doubt the type to take care of what matters to him in life.
 
There isn’t a speck of dust or lint anywhere in sight.
 
It’s very well-maintained. Well, or he has some major OCD.

Parker gets behind the wheel, closing the door softly as he does. When we back out of the driveway and turn onto the road, I look out Parker’s window at Jason, who is making a weird hand gesture to Parker that I don’t understand.
 
Just as I am about to ask Parker what Jason is doing, he revs the engine, shifts gears, and squeals up the street, making me fall back into my seat.
 
I can hear Jason’s hoots and hollers as we drive away; I roll my eyes.
 
Men and their toys.
 
Now I know what the hand gesture meant.

Parker downshifts as we come to a stop sign.

“I wish I could drive a manual,” I say, watching him shift.
 
I’ve never given it much thought, but just that split second of quick shifting gave me a thrill, made me want more.