“Felt good, right?” He smirks, and I nod. “Now you just have to try not to fuck it up.” With that, he leaves and the fear that held me back for so long roars back to life inside of me. Sweat pours out of every pore in my body, but my finger pushes down on the incline and speed. Pushing the doubt that I’ll inevitably screw it up as far away as I can squash it, I give myself one option: to only focus on staying on this damn machine.
SITTING OUTSIDE THE gallery, I debate on going in. Show Ryland that she’s mine—claim her. Every ounce of restraint kept me from demanding she quit this morning. But how can I do that to her? The image of her face burns in my memory of when she came barreling into the studio and told me she got a job. She was so elated and excited. I’d never take that away from her, especially since I know her true dream is to go to college. I wish there was some way I could make it happen. With graduation still months off and no real job in the future, I can’t swing it. Then my mind rattles into thought, and I’m like a damn hamster wheel unable to stop it. Nodding my head, I figure there is a way I could get her the money. Shaking it off just as fast as it appeared, because she’d never accept it if she knew where it came from. Then again, what if she didn’t know?
The door of the passenger side swings opens, and she climbs in. “Shit, I’m sorry. I would have gotten out and opened the door.” I apologize for the lack of chivalry I currently displayed.
“That’s okay.” She smiles and leans over the console. “I missed you,” she murmurs before our lips collide. I fist her hair in my palm, and she whimpers into my mouth as our tongues dance together like they’ve become accustomed to.
“You hungry?” I ask her when we part, and she nods.
“Yeah,” she sighs, placing her hand on her stomach. Grant’s words resurface in my head, ‘you could be next’. Damn him because it’s only been a couple of days. Although I’m all right with us having a baby, I would prefer us to be married first and maybe me graduating.
“Where do you want to go?” I choke out, trying to appear as though my heart didn’t just stop for a second.
“Home. I want to cook for you tonight.” She bites her lip, and I peer out of the corner of my eye.
“Chrissy, you don’t cook,” I remind her, and she swats my arm.
“I looked up some recipes at work. We just need to stop at the grocery store.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her purse. “I can do this,” she encourages herself. I wouldn’t be able to fight the cheesy grin from being plastered on my face because I love the fact she’s trying to please me with a home cooked meal.
We stop at a light, and I turn her way, my hand caressing her cheek. “Of course you can,” I confirm, and her lips turn. “With my help,” I tease, and another swat at my arm has me chuckling.
Pulling into the grocery store, I place my hand on her leg to keep her in place. Exiting the truck, I jog around and open her door, holding my hand out for her to take. I sneak another taste of her lips when her feet touch the asphalt. We enter the grocery store, and I grab us a cart while she ventures into the produce area. Not once did we bump into each other, or walk different ways, as though we are already naturally falling into a comfort zone with one another.
She stands in front of an array of green, narrowing her eyes at the small signs identifying the items below the markings. “The lettuce is right there,” I point to a head of lettuce, and she turns around, those narrowing eyes now focused on me.
“I need parsley.” Then her head falls back. “Aye … there it is.” She grabs a bag from the top and places a bunch in the bag.
She peruses over the recipe in her hand. “Where to next, Rachel Ray?” I tease.
“Seafood.” Then she turns to me, panic filling her eyes. “You aren’t allergic are you?”
“Yeah, I’ll welt up within a second of eating shelled fish,” I lie, and her face falls. Not able to keep up the act, I close the distance. “I’m kidding.” I bend down to smile at her, earning myself another swat. “You’re going to start leaving marks,” I tell her, jokingly because I love eliciting any emotion from her.
Walking ahead of me, her head shaking in front of me. “They’re deserved,” she jokes back.
As we walk down the aisles, I push myself up on the cart, riding it down the nearly empty lanes. Throwing things here and there in the cart, Chrissy concentrates on her list, studying it at every turn. When we get to the checkout, she peers in the filled cart and then back to the list, checking off items in her head. “Ready.” She gives one firm nod.
We place the items on the conveyer, and when we get the total, I swipe my credit card in the machine before Chrissy can pay the cashier the money. “Dex,” she warns with clenched teeth.
“Not a chance, baby,” I say, her hand freezing in motion, and I turn around. “What?” She’s just standing there and staring over at me. The cashier peers from the corner of her eye, trying to appear as though she’s not eavesdropping on our exchange.
“Nothing.” She shakes her head as though clearing the thoughts from it. Fear rings that I did something wrong, but I rack my brain to the last five minutes—nothing.
The cashier hands me the receipt, and I finish grabbing all the bags, placing them in the cart. Chrissy mindlessly walks in front of me, and when we get in front of the scratch-off lottery area, I place my hand on her arm to stop her. “What’s wrong?” I ask, and she turns around with wetness filling her eyes. “Chrissy?” I panic.
Her fingers fly to her eyes, swiping the tears away. “It’s nothing, really … it’s just.”
“What?” my voice more urgent and demanding, baffled to what just happened.
“You’ve never referred to me as baby before. I don’t know why, but it just kind of felt nice.” She turns around and walks through the automatic doors, leaving me in the same spot, alone and confused to the exchange we just had.
Looking side to side, as though anyone else would be just as confused by her reaction to something I said. I rush my steps, pushing the cart faster to catch up. When I end up at her side, I ask, “Isn’t that a good thing?”
She nods. “It is. I was just taken by surprise at my own reaction to the word.” She helps me pack the bags in the truck, and then I open the door for her.
Once in the truck, I turn her way, not ready to sweep this subject under the rug. “Chrissy, is there more than that?” I ask, and she turns her body to mine. The love for me still clear in her hazel eyes, but she’s unsure about something, I just don’t know what.
“I don’t know. It scares me. The excitement for a future is a foreign feeling for me. I’ve never had a lot to look forward to since I’ve mostly concentrated on surviving day to day. It’s only been three days, and I’m just scared. It’s my own insecurity.” She shakes her head and then reaches for her seatbelt, but I halt her movement with my hand.
“Chrissy, I’m just as scared. Worried I’ll fuck this up. That one day you’ll realize I’m not that guy.” I admit my own insecurity to our new found relationship without trudging up nightmares of me coming home one day and finding empty drawers and a note on my pillow.
“What guy?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
“The guy that can put you before everything else in his life. That one day, I’ll fail you in some way.” I stare down at the console, concentrating on my pack of gum resting in the cup holder because it hurts so much to admit it verbally, there’s no way I can look at her when I say it.
“God, Dex. Don’t you realize,” she waits for my eyes to reach hers before she finishes, “you’ve put me first your whole life. Unconsciously, you’ve always worried about me and my needs before your own.” Thinking about her words for a second, I’m thankful that they are true and she’s sure of how far I would go for her. Somehow, some way, she’s eased my nerves with her confirmation.