He handed it to me.
“Happy birthday, Sylvie.”
I stared down at the box then I looked up at him. “Wow.”
He grinned at me.
I liked presents and I liked it more that he gave me one but that grin would have been enough for me.
“We don’t have wrapping paper and I used all my allowance on that so I couldn’t buy any,” he told me.
“That’s okay!” I chirped, threw off the top of the box and looked down at the gold necklace with the tiny twinkling green jewel hanging off the chain, this attached to a little sheet of plastic.
“They said that’s a peridot. Your birthstone,” Tuck’s voice came at me.
I tipped my head back to look at him. “I like it. Green’s my favorite color.”
He grinned at me again.
“I’m gonna wear it always, Tuck,” I whispered and was about to pull it out so I could put it on but his face went funny and he shook his head.
“It’s cheap, Sylvie,” he said quiet. “The girl I bought it from said you can’t get it wet. It’ll make your skin turn green.”
“I don’t care,” I told him.
“Your Dad will,” he told me.
He would.
Darn.
I looked back down at the necklace and said soft, “I’ll wear it all the other times when I’m not in the water.”
“Okay,” he replied.
I looked up at him and smiled.
Then I jumped up to my feet, ran back to my bike, put the necklace in the basket with my Snickers wrapper because Tuck said his Dad said that littering was bad and you should never do it. So we never did.
I ran back down the pier pulling off my t-shirt and stopping to tug off my shorts. I had my bathing suit underneath.
“Cannonball!” I yelled and dashed down the rest of the pier. I jumped straight off the end as high in the air as I could get. I curled my arms around my tucked legs and hit the warm water.
I barely surfaced before I heard and saw Tuck hit the water beside me.
I smiled.
He surfaced, took one stroke and made it to me then he ducked me.
I came up laughing.
We did cannonballs and dives and had ducking contests and floated and had swimming contests that Tuck let me win because it was my birthday and we did it for hours.
When I got home, my stepmom was asleep so I didn’t get caught being gone and spending the day with Tuck at the lake.
It was the best birthday ever.
Ever.
Chapter Seven
I’m What You Need
Present day…
My eyes opened and I stared at the alarm clock amongst the junk on my nightstand.
Fuck.
Last night I picked bourbon. I should have picked tequila.
I pulled myself out of bed then I lugged myself down the hall to the bathroom. I used the facilities, washed my face, brushed my teeth, downed numerous gulps of water cupped in my hand and was walking out when I heard the front door open and close.
Right. Well then. There it was.
God did not answer my prayers and made yesterday a bad dream like that whole season of Dallas where Bobby was dead and then, poof, the next season he’s in the shower.
It would appear that, yesterday, Tucker Creed actually did come back into my life, I agreed to partner up with him then ended the evening eating his food and f**king him.
Shit.
Great.
I wandered into the living room, through the entry and rounded the wall into the dining room.
There I saw a bakery box on the counter and a hot guy behind it with a small raised bruise on his cheekbone, an angry bite mark on his neck, a white, paper coffee cup in one hand, and, to my expert donut discerning eye, a Boston cream in the other.
His assessing eyes came to me. “Mornin’.”
“Guh,” I mumbled and ignored his quick grin by looking down at my cat, who had her face in her food bowl.
I stopped and stared. Hard.
Gun felt it and looked up at me.
“Meow,” she defended herself and she had a right. She was a cat. Food was food whoever gave it to you.
Still, I returned, “Traitor.”
I heard a chuckle, my eyes cut to Creed then down to the big box and I continued wandering his way, asking, “Did you buy donuts for the whole block in an effort to get your partner close in order to have dozens more reasons to keep me not dead?”
“No, I bought enough donuts to make Charlene and her kids happy for a morning.”
Shit, they were going to love that. These days, donuts did it for them. Then again, they were the kind of family, simple pleasures always did. Save Dan, the Douchebag, of course.
I stopped opposite the counter and looked back up at him. “Have I told you you’re an ass**le today?”
“You just got up, so no.”
“You’re an ass**le.”
He grinned again.
I threw open the baker’s box and plucked out a glazed. I usually went for the fancy, complicated donuts. It was feeling like a glazed day.
I bit into it and looked back at Creed, saying through sugar and fried dough, “Coffee?”
He scooted a white paper cup across the counter toward me.
I picked it up, sipped and closed my eyes.
Ah, good.
“What was that about me bein’ an ass**le?” Creed asked.
I opened my eyes but only to narrow them on him.
He burst out laughing and I glared at him while he did but I multitasked, glaring while taking another bite of donut and sucking back another sip of coffee.
He stopped laughing and trained his eyes on me. “Have a good night?”
“No. I lost two hundred dollars playing pool.”
“Meet your match?”
“No. I suck at pool. Fuck drunk texting. Drunk pool betting is where your shit will get burned.”
That got me a full blown smile before he asked, “Where’s your ‘Vette?”
“A parking lot outside The X, hopefully resting easy under the benevolent eye of the Kickass Car God.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured me.
I took another huge bite of donut, chewed twice and said through partially chewed dough, “I hope so.” More chewing then, “She isn’t, I’ll curl up in the closet and I swear, I won’t come out for a week.” More chewing, I swallowed then, “And, just saying, I’ll take my gun with me and if you open the door for any purpose other than to toss in food and beer, I’ll shoot you.”
Through another grin, he muttered, “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Don’t think I’m joking.”
He kept grinning.
“Happy birthday, Sylvie.”
I stared down at the box then I looked up at him. “Wow.”
He grinned at me.
I liked presents and I liked it more that he gave me one but that grin would have been enough for me.
“We don’t have wrapping paper and I used all my allowance on that so I couldn’t buy any,” he told me.
“That’s okay!” I chirped, threw off the top of the box and looked down at the gold necklace with the tiny twinkling green jewel hanging off the chain, this attached to a little sheet of plastic.
“They said that’s a peridot. Your birthstone,” Tuck’s voice came at me.
I tipped my head back to look at him. “I like it. Green’s my favorite color.”
He grinned at me again.
“I’m gonna wear it always, Tuck,” I whispered and was about to pull it out so I could put it on but his face went funny and he shook his head.
“It’s cheap, Sylvie,” he said quiet. “The girl I bought it from said you can’t get it wet. It’ll make your skin turn green.”
“I don’t care,” I told him.
“Your Dad will,” he told me.
He would.
Darn.
I looked back down at the necklace and said soft, “I’ll wear it all the other times when I’m not in the water.”
“Okay,” he replied.
I looked up at him and smiled.
Then I jumped up to my feet, ran back to my bike, put the necklace in the basket with my Snickers wrapper because Tuck said his Dad said that littering was bad and you should never do it. So we never did.
I ran back down the pier pulling off my t-shirt and stopping to tug off my shorts. I had my bathing suit underneath.
“Cannonball!” I yelled and dashed down the rest of the pier. I jumped straight off the end as high in the air as I could get. I curled my arms around my tucked legs and hit the warm water.
I barely surfaced before I heard and saw Tuck hit the water beside me.
I smiled.
He surfaced, took one stroke and made it to me then he ducked me.
I came up laughing.
We did cannonballs and dives and had ducking contests and floated and had swimming contests that Tuck let me win because it was my birthday and we did it for hours.
When I got home, my stepmom was asleep so I didn’t get caught being gone and spending the day with Tuck at the lake.
It was the best birthday ever.
Ever.
Chapter Seven
I’m What You Need
Present day…
My eyes opened and I stared at the alarm clock amongst the junk on my nightstand.
Fuck.
Last night I picked bourbon. I should have picked tequila.
I pulled myself out of bed then I lugged myself down the hall to the bathroom. I used the facilities, washed my face, brushed my teeth, downed numerous gulps of water cupped in my hand and was walking out when I heard the front door open and close.
Right. Well then. There it was.
God did not answer my prayers and made yesterday a bad dream like that whole season of Dallas where Bobby was dead and then, poof, the next season he’s in the shower.
It would appear that, yesterday, Tucker Creed actually did come back into my life, I agreed to partner up with him then ended the evening eating his food and f**king him.
Shit.
Great.
I wandered into the living room, through the entry and rounded the wall into the dining room.
There I saw a bakery box on the counter and a hot guy behind it with a small raised bruise on his cheekbone, an angry bite mark on his neck, a white, paper coffee cup in one hand, and, to my expert donut discerning eye, a Boston cream in the other.
His assessing eyes came to me. “Mornin’.”
“Guh,” I mumbled and ignored his quick grin by looking down at my cat, who had her face in her food bowl.
I stopped and stared. Hard.
Gun felt it and looked up at me.
“Meow,” she defended herself and she had a right. She was a cat. Food was food whoever gave it to you.
Still, I returned, “Traitor.”
I heard a chuckle, my eyes cut to Creed then down to the big box and I continued wandering his way, asking, “Did you buy donuts for the whole block in an effort to get your partner close in order to have dozens more reasons to keep me not dead?”
“No, I bought enough donuts to make Charlene and her kids happy for a morning.”
Shit, they were going to love that. These days, donuts did it for them. Then again, they were the kind of family, simple pleasures always did. Save Dan, the Douchebag, of course.
I stopped opposite the counter and looked back up at him. “Have I told you you’re an ass**le today?”
“You just got up, so no.”
“You’re an ass**le.”
He grinned again.
I threw open the baker’s box and plucked out a glazed. I usually went for the fancy, complicated donuts. It was feeling like a glazed day.
I bit into it and looked back at Creed, saying through sugar and fried dough, “Coffee?”
He scooted a white paper cup across the counter toward me.
I picked it up, sipped and closed my eyes.
Ah, good.
“What was that about me bein’ an ass**le?” Creed asked.
I opened my eyes but only to narrow them on him.
He burst out laughing and I glared at him while he did but I multitasked, glaring while taking another bite of donut and sucking back another sip of coffee.
He stopped laughing and trained his eyes on me. “Have a good night?”
“No. I lost two hundred dollars playing pool.”
“Meet your match?”
“No. I suck at pool. Fuck drunk texting. Drunk pool betting is where your shit will get burned.”
That got me a full blown smile before he asked, “Where’s your ‘Vette?”
“A parking lot outside The X, hopefully resting easy under the benevolent eye of the Kickass Car God.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured me.
I took another huge bite of donut, chewed twice and said through partially chewed dough, “I hope so.” More chewing then, “She isn’t, I’ll curl up in the closet and I swear, I won’t come out for a week.” More chewing, I swallowed then, “And, just saying, I’ll take my gun with me and if you open the door for any purpose other than to toss in food and beer, I’ll shoot you.”
Through another grin, he muttered, “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Don’t think I’m joking.”
He kept grinning.
