She shyly glances away. The tension building between us causes me to shift. I may not understand it, but Haley’s attempting to explain something. I nod, willing her to continue. “Paint, brushes, water. I’m keeping up.”
Haley inhales. “Sometimes you get too excited and dip the brush into the paint and the colors get mixed up. All of a sudden I’m no longer yellow and you’re no longer blue.”
“We become green,” I finish for her.
Haley lifts her head and she’s raw, completely open. Too open, almost bleeding. “I dated Matt and I sort of became gray and I’m over being gray and I’m not ready to be green. I’d like to try yellow again for a while.”
Haley needs time, and I can give her that. Maybe I’ll find a way to get my own shit together and figure out how to tell her about my family by then.
She sucks in air as if she swallowed too much water and I throw out a life preserver. “When will you teach me grappling? You said it would be soon.”
Haley blinks and what was meant to help her causes her to drop her head back and then forward into her hands. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Grappling’s out of my league. I’m a kickboxer, not a wrestler,” she mumbles through her fingers. “I’m going to fail you.”
Yeah, Haley needs time, but I’m not ready to give her space. I pull on her hands and, when she refuses to look at me, I place my fingers under her chin and force her eyes to mine. They’re glassy and in pain and I don’t want any of that over me. “There’s no possible way you can fail me. The fact that you believe in me enough to train me...to let me help you with your scholarship... You are not capable of failing.” That’s my arena.
She tilts her head and I brush my thumb against her cheek. Haley closes her eyes as if she enjoys my touch and when she reopens them, she struggles to smile. “This sort of feels like green.”
“This is me being blue. Don’t worry—you’re still yellow.”
Her eyes laugh for a brief second and I burn the sight into my memory. I withdraw my hand and Haley opens the passenger-side door, steps out and closes it behind her.
I roll down the passenger-side window. “Haley.”
She raises her eyebrows.
I lean my shoulder against my door and grip the steering wheel. “You need time, that’s fine, but we’re no longer pretend dating. Not sure what it is, but we’re more than that. Thought it’d be simpler if I made that clear.”
With lines bunched around her eyes, she nods once but won’t look at me. She turns for the house, takes two steps, then rushes back to the car. Haley swings the door open, grabs the roses, then blushes when our eyes meet. “You’re right. I like guys that bring me flowers, but just so you know I am so still yellow. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Haley slams the door shut and bolts for the house. I pull away feeling like a man who’s flying.
Chapter 41
Haley
The door to the bathroom rattles, followed by three knocks. “Occupied!”
I undo the strings of my red half apron and wash my hands in the sink. The scent of pizza and pasta smothers me and my hair is horrifically frizzed from waltzing in and out of the steamy kitchen. This is not how I want to look or smell when I hop into West’s SUV. I comb my fingers through my hair and it does nothing to tame the wild monstrosity.
The door rattles again. There’s one bathroom each for men and women and someone obviously has to pee. The outfit isn’t so bad: my best jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt, but the hair...the lack of makeup...the fact I’m pathetic enough to care...
It’s not like West and I won’t be sweating, sweltering messes in an hour. But still, the past couple of weeks with West have been...well...nice. Last Friday night, West backed me up against the cage, he kissed me, made my body come alive, and now...he’s letting me be yellow.
I barely recognize the silly grin sliding across my lips. Somehow West is reducing me to giggles and grins and butterflies. There’s hope for me being a girly-girl yet.
With a deep breath, I leave the bathroom and ignore the long line of angry-faced women doing the I-gotta-pee dance. It’s not my fault they sucked down gallons of Diet Coke. It’s Friday and the restaurant is packed.
I walk out into the cool late March night and glance around the parking lot for West’s SUV. My sigh materializes into a white mist and quickly evaporates. He’s not here. I’m a few minutes early, but my tables paid and were out the door. If I stayed inside, my boss would have stuck me with more tables and then I would have been trapped for a minimum of thirty minutes, maybe longer.
To my right, a girl’s shrill laughter echoes from the back of the building. A crowd lingers there and my stomach sinks. It’s been months since they’ve hung out here—honestly since our breakup—but I have no doubt the back-alley loiterers are Matt and his crew.
I pivot on my heels, willing to take my chances on another table, when Matt emerges from the shadows.
Chapter 42
West
I finished the last item on my thin to-do list for Denny a half hour ago, but for the fourth time today, I sweep the stockroom. Guess with moving home, I could have quit, but I’ve stayed on as Denny’s monkey for multiple reasons.
One, I need the money in case Dad changes his mind and throws me out again. Two, oddly enough, I like what I do here. I fix things. I’m useful. For once in my life I actually do something right. But the last reason, the most important reason, deals with Mom.