“Yeah. I can walk everywhere in these.”
“You have a car, right?” she asked as I locked the door behind us.
“I do. It’s just nice out, and I like to walk when I can. Also, parking can be a bitch in the area with all the students. It’s not bad now since it’s summer, but come fall, there won’t be a free spot.”
“Makes sense.”
We walked the four blocks in silence, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She took in the older homes and shading trees. Every once in a while, a glimpse of campus would peek through the buildings. When we arrived, I asked for a booth toward the back where it was quieter.
She ordered a water and raised a brow when I ordered a beer. I raised one in return, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, I finally broke the silence.
“So, where’s your car? I remember you having one last time I was there.”
“I sold it for extra money to travel.”
“Makes sense.”
A small indent formed between her brows. “You think so?”
“Yeah, of course. I traveled after high school and didn’t have shit for money. I’d have sold a car if I had one, too.”
She laughed, her lips still somehow in a smirk. I knew she’d had a good life—good experiences, which didn’t always make a happy person. But part of me wondered if Arabella didn’t smile because her friends expected her to be cool and trendy over not really wanting to. I wasn’t that much older than her, but I still remembered the pressures of my peers, and that trend among people her age only increased over the more recent years. It was all about who you portrayed over who you really were.
Her personality screamed ‘fuck you,’ but it kind of felt like a veneer to keep people at a distance.
“Hell, there are days I still think about selling it, so I can travel more. But then I have my job teaching, so it might not go well.”
“What do you teach?”
“A few classes, but global economics is the big one. I also teach some basic economics classes, too.”
“Cool.”
This time the word didn’t grate on my nerves. She perked up and really meant it. She sat taller and brushed her hair back behind her ears, and for the first time, Arabella looked at me.
“What’s been your favorite place you’ve traveled?”
“Oh, boy.” I leaned back in the booth and mentally ran through fifteen years of travel, my focus faltering under the full weight of her attention. “Probably London or Scotland.”
“All of Scotland or a specific place?”
“I can’t pick a favorite place in Scotland. I won’t do it.” I crossed my arms and turned my nose up like a petulant child, and the earth moved.
Arabella laughed.
Her perfectly shaped pout parted into a perfectly shaped smile. Her head dropped back, and the pale length of her neck moved with the soft, happy sound that fell from her open mouth. It only lasted a moment, but it hit like a physical blow, creating a crack in my own facade, letting the truth trickle in.
I was fucked with this woman in my house.
Because she was a woman. Sitting before me, letting pieces of her true self slip free, she wasn’t just a girl. She was a woman, and that knowledge was dangerous.
“I worked at a shipping dock in a few places while I traveled Scotland,” she explained. “It was probably the cheapest place we went because of their open camping rules. We set up tents over staying in hotels or hostels.”
“I remember the few odd jobs I’d have. I was a bartender for a week in Paris. Didn’t know any French, but made it work.”
“I was a bartender in London for a month. With all the pubs, it seemed like the best option.”
“Do you plan on traveling more?” I asked.
“God, yes. I’d have never come home, but I needed help with money when my friend had to cancel. My parents said they’d cover what I was short if I agreed to college this year.”
“That helps explain the chip on your shoulder since you arrived.”
She tried to hide another soft laugh by dropping her head, letting her hair fall around her face. When she looked up, she cringed, her brown eyes peeking through the strands of her hair. “Sorry about that. I guess I can still be a bitch. “
“It’s okay. I can be a bitch too,” I joked, using a feminine voice.
It did the job, relieving any tension that formed from her talking about why she was there.
“Speaking of jobs. I need one.”
“There’s no rush. You just got here.”
“It’s the whole reason I’m here early. So I can get a job to start earning money to replace the car I sold.”
“What? Just so you can sell it again next summer?”
She shrugged, not denying it, making me laugh.
She looked side to side as if seeing the place for the first time. The slightly sticky wood floors, dim lights, hodge-podge of patrons, ranging from families with kids, to the stray college student, to old bikers at the bar.
“I’ll apply here.”
“Are they hiring?”
“Don’t know. Let’s find out,” she said, waggling her brows like my question was issued as a challenge. “Hey,” she called to a passing waiter. “You hiring?”
“I don’t think so.” He looked her up and down with a spark of interest. “But, let me go ask.”
And that was how I ended up walking home next to a gloating Arabella, freshly hired after not even having to fill out an application.
Damn, she was impressive.
And impressed by a woman wasn’t something I’d experienced in a long time. If ever.
Arabella
“So, today is day five. How are you holding up?” my best friend, Felicity, asked.
I clutched the phone between my ear and shoulder and tied my Doc Martins. “It’s…not horrible. But I haven’t done much beyond one day of training for this job.”
“How’s living with Uncle Willem? Has he set a curfew yet?”
“He’s not my uncle.” Making the clarification didn’t do much to justify how wrong my attraction to him was. Uncle or not, I could list another ten reasons why fantasizing about him was not a good idea. “And it’s not bad. We had dinner that first night and honestly, I haven’t seen him much. He’s at the school or in his office for the most part.”
“Nice. Freedom all the way.”
“Yeah.” I did my best to sound excited, but I didn’t know if it was because Felicity was on the phone so far away or what, but loneliness hit me. “He seems cool, though. I wouldn’t mind seeing him now and then.”
“I mean, girl. I checked out his Instagram. Although a very limited selection, the man is fucking fine. I wouldn’t mind having him for dinner either. Good thing he’s not my uncle.”
“He’s not my uncle.”
“So you keep saying,” she teased.
“Shut up.”
“Will you tuck me in, Uncle Willem?” she mocked in a breathy voice.
“Oh, my god. I’d slap you if you were here,” I laughed.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wish you were. Todd has a new fuck toy, and she’s annoying as hell.”