Step-Lover
Page 44
“Later, brat.”
I leave the house with a smile, but a heavy pain in my heart.
Let’s hope time is really all it’s cracked out to be. It’s meant to heal all wounds.
We’ll see.
~*~*~*~
One month later
“Has he stopped calling yet?” Melanie asks, throwing her feet up on the couch.
I sigh. “It’s been narrowed down to a few times a week, finally.”
She frowns. “He never seemed like that type.”
“You’re right about that.”
I broke up with Yates a week after the incident, and he’s effectively called me one hundred and eight times since then. Thankfully, after a great deal of harsh words on my end, he’s gotten the point and is slowing down. It wasn’t easy to do, because I really did care about Yates, but after that night I realized I was fooling myself. He was never the man for me.
“And Blade? Have you seen him again?” Melanie asks.
I shake my head. “No, and it’s probably better for now.”
“You’re a stronger woman than me,” she says, pushing to her feet. “I’d have probably crash tackled him and made him my bitch by now.”
I snort-laugh and shake my head at her. “You’re crazy, woman.”
“The man I want to crash tackle doesn’t even know I exist.”
Brody.
“He does, he’s just . . .”
“Screwed up? Unable to produce emotion?”
I frown at her. “I think there’s more to it than you think.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You know, but you refuse to tell me.”
“Would you tell someone my story?”
She huffs. “Fine, point made, but he has to crack soon. I’ve been flirting for freaking ages.”
“Maybe you need to stop,” I suggest, sitting down to pull my shoes on.
“Stop?”
I look up at her. “Yeah, stop. Maybe you just need to back off and let him process. Isn’t it the chase they like, and all that?”
She taps her chin. “You’re totally right. That’s it, Operation Ignore Brody is in place.”
I roll my eyes and stand. “I have to go to school. I’m late again and Professor Ericson will have my ass.”
“I’d let him have my ass.” She sighs. “Over and over again.”
I’m right there with her.
“Later, honey.”
“Laters,” she cries.
I rush out the front door and jump into the car. I start it and speed off down the street. Halfway to work, it starts spluttering. It’s an old car and it’s been my old faithful for a good while now, but it’s starting to backtrack on me. After a few more splutters it comes to a stop. Luckily, I realized this was going to happen and managed to pull it over. I try the key four times before jumping out with a growl. Seriously?
This is like the worst excuse in the history of excuses. Why are you late? Oh, my car broke down.
I lift the hood and stare at the hot engine. Nothing. No smoke. No spluttering. It’s just freaking died. I slam it closed with a curse and see a man walking down the road. “Excuse me?” I call and he turns. He’s middle-aged and grumpy-looking. Great. “Sorry to bother you. Do you know where the closest mechanic shop is?”
He jerks his head to his left. “Three blocks down.”
“Thank you.”
I turn and rush in that direction. I could call someone, but if there’s one closer it might save some time. They can come tow it or something, maybe give me a ride. While I hurry towards the large garage I can see coming into view, I pull out my phone and text a friend to tell the professor that I’m sick. It’s the best I’ve got. I can’t possibly give the my-car-broke excuse. That would be shameful.
When I reach the large, blue, open garage, I stop. There are cars everywhere. Dammit. I slide past them until I find the door that says reception. I go in and there’s a young, pretty woman sitting at the counter. She smiles at me when I enter. “How may I help you today?”
“Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to one of your mechanics? My car is broken down just a few blocks from here.”
“Of course. One moment.”
She stands and walks out into the workshop. I shift nervously as I wait. I hate waiting. The door opens and I spin around to see the receptionist coming back in. “Someone will be right in.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
I turn and start studying the posters on the wall, giving information on ‘good car health’. I snort.
“Something funny?”
I spin around so quickly I lose my balance. A hand lashes out and catches me before I land flat on my face. I look up as I steady myself and curse to the high heavens. This is a fucking joke, right? Blade is standing, holding onto my arm. He’s wearing, oh boy, oh boy oh boy, a pair of greased-up jeans and a white sleeveless shirt that hugs his body in ways that should just be illegal.
“Ah, Blade,” I stammer.
He lets me go and steps back. No. Stay close. I can’t help it now. My eyes travel over him. His shirt is sweaty and stuck to his body, showing clearly that the man has an impressive six-pack. Damn his goodness. I finally look to his face, which is smeared in grease, but it only makes him look better. His hair is tucked into a baseball cap, which he has on backwards.
Hot.
Super hot.
“What’re you doin’ here, Aria?”
I leave the house with a smile, but a heavy pain in my heart.
Let’s hope time is really all it’s cracked out to be. It’s meant to heal all wounds.
We’ll see.
~*~*~*~
One month later
“Has he stopped calling yet?” Melanie asks, throwing her feet up on the couch.
I sigh. “It’s been narrowed down to a few times a week, finally.”
She frowns. “He never seemed like that type.”
“You’re right about that.”
I broke up with Yates a week after the incident, and he’s effectively called me one hundred and eight times since then. Thankfully, after a great deal of harsh words on my end, he’s gotten the point and is slowing down. It wasn’t easy to do, because I really did care about Yates, but after that night I realized I was fooling myself. He was never the man for me.
“And Blade? Have you seen him again?” Melanie asks.
I shake my head. “No, and it’s probably better for now.”
“You’re a stronger woman than me,” she says, pushing to her feet. “I’d have probably crash tackled him and made him my bitch by now.”
I snort-laugh and shake my head at her. “You’re crazy, woman.”
“The man I want to crash tackle doesn’t even know I exist.”
Brody.
“He does, he’s just . . .”
“Screwed up? Unable to produce emotion?”
I frown at her. “I think there’s more to it than you think.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “You know, but you refuse to tell me.”
“Would you tell someone my story?”
She huffs. “Fine, point made, but he has to crack soon. I’ve been flirting for freaking ages.”
“Maybe you need to stop,” I suggest, sitting down to pull my shoes on.
“Stop?”
I look up at her. “Yeah, stop. Maybe you just need to back off and let him process. Isn’t it the chase they like, and all that?”
She taps her chin. “You’re totally right. That’s it, Operation Ignore Brody is in place.”
I roll my eyes and stand. “I have to go to school. I’m late again and Professor Ericson will have my ass.”
“I’d let him have my ass.” She sighs. “Over and over again.”
I’m right there with her.
“Later, honey.”
“Laters,” she cries.
I rush out the front door and jump into the car. I start it and speed off down the street. Halfway to work, it starts spluttering. It’s an old car and it’s been my old faithful for a good while now, but it’s starting to backtrack on me. After a few more splutters it comes to a stop. Luckily, I realized this was going to happen and managed to pull it over. I try the key four times before jumping out with a growl. Seriously?
This is like the worst excuse in the history of excuses. Why are you late? Oh, my car broke down.
I lift the hood and stare at the hot engine. Nothing. No smoke. No spluttering. It’s just freaking died. I slam it closed with a curse and see a man walking down the road. “Excuse me?” I call and he turns. He’s middle-aged and grumpy-looking. Great. “Sorry to bother you. Do you know where the closest mechanic shop is?”
He jerks his head to his left. “Three blocks down.”
“Thank you.”
I turn and rush in that direction. I could call someone, but if there’s one closer it might save some time. They can come tow it or something, maybe give me a ride. While I hurry towards the large garage I can see coming into view, I pull out my phone and text a friend to tell the professor that I’m sick. It’s the best I’ve got. I can’t possibly give the my-car-broke excuse. That would be shameful.
When I reach the large, blue, open garage, I stop. There are cars everywhere. Dammit. I slide past them until I find the door that says reception. I go in and there’s a young, pretty woman sitting at the counter. She smiles at me when I enter. “How may I help you today?”
“Hi, I was wondering if I could talk to one of your mechanics? My car is broken down just a few blocks from here.”
“Of course. One moment.”
She stands and walks out into the workshop. I shift nervously as I wait. I hate waiting. The door opens and I spin around to see the receptionist coming back in. “Someone will be right in.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
I turn and start studying the posters on the wall, giving information on ‘good car health’. I snort.
“Something funny?”
I spin around so quickly I lose my balance. A hand lashes out and catches me before I land flat on my face. I look up as I steady myself and curse to the high heavens. This is a fucking joke, right? Blade is standing, holding onto my arm. He’s wearing, oh boy, oh boy oh boy, a pair of greased-up jeans and a white sleeveless shirt that hugs his body in ways that should just be illegal.
“Ah, Blade,” I stammer.
He lets me go and steps back. No. Stay close. I can’t help it now. My eyes travel over him. His shirt is sweaty and stuck to his body, showing clearly that the man has an impressive six-pack. Damn his goodness. I finally look to his face, which is smeared in grease, but it only makes him look better. His hair is tucked into a baseball cap, which he has on backwards.
Hot.
Super hot.
“What’re you doin’ here, Aria?”
