We really weren’t, though. It wasn’t a real relationship at all. Just a bunch of sneakin’ around and me getting some where I could. Kept that up in college too, though not as frequently.
“I’m sure you were the hot girl at your school,” I tell Gracie and she starts laughing hysterically. To the point that I have to wait her out, watching as she laughs and laughs, clutching her sides until she finally dies down.
“No. I was definitely not the hot girl in high school,” she tells me, her voice firm. “I kept to myself. I was pretty shy. And I had one serious boyfriend my senior year. That’s it.”
I immediately hate this guy, and I don’t even know who he is. “What was his name?”
“Aaron,” she admits. “We were together for a while. Most of senior year.”
“What happened?”
“He broke up with me right after Valentine’s Day, the prick. He said he wanted to end it then before we left for college, and that he wanted to be free for the rest of senior year,” she says.
“What a dick,” I mutter.
“Right? Especially since he went to prom with Bella Moretti.” She scowls. Clearly, Bella Moretti sucks. I bet she’s a hottie though, with a name like that. “They were basically together the entirety of the summer after we graduated, only for her to dump him when she went to UCLA. His explanation for breaking up with me was clearly an excuse.”
I nod, rubbing my chin, smiling up at the server who drops off a fresh basket of tortilla chips before dashing off. “Was that your only serious relationship? Or have you had more?”
“Only that one,” she admits. “After that, I told myself I didn’t need anything serious. I became a new person in college. Part of that is thanks to Hayden. She really brought me out of my shell.”
“Hayden’s a trip,” I say.
“She’s the best friend I’ve ever had,” Gracie admits with a faint smile.
“You two together are terrifying,” I admit.
Gracie frowns. “What do you mean? Do we scare you?”
“Hell yes,” I say without hesitation. “I wouldn’t mess with the two of you, that’s for sure.”
“Aww, the big bad football player scared of two strong women,” she teases with a glint in her eyes. “We do know how to make your life a living hell, Caleb.”
“I know. That’s why I steer clear of you two,” I say, meaning every word.
“You really don’t though,” she points out. “You bug me constantly. As if you enjoy taunting me on a regular basis.”
Should I admit I enjoy taunting her? “You’re easy to bug, G. You get all riled up.”
“People say we argue all the time because we secretly want each other,” she says, her voice light. Like it’s no big deal what she just said.
But her words render me frozen, my mind going a mile a minute.
Yes, I think she wants me, but she’s never flat-out said something like that before.
Hmm.
The server chooses that moment to return to our table with our food, and Gracie orders another margarita.
“You sure about that?” I ask her.
She sends me a look. “You don’t want to pay for another one?”
“That’s not the point. It’s a big drink, G. You really think you can handle another one?” I ask.
“Hell yes.” She smiles up at the server, who laughs. “Make it a double.”
“Please don’t do that,” I tell the server, who keeps laughing. “Just make her a normal one.”
“Will do,” the server says, her gaze flirtatious when it meets mine. I flash her a quick smile and look away, not interested.
Wait a second. What the fuck? What’s wrong with me?
The moment the server is gone, I’m shoving half my taco into my mouth, mulling over what Gracie said, and how I could bring the subject back up.
Then again, why would I want to do that? Am I ready to talk about this with Gracie? She could shut me down with a few choice words, and I’d have to forget about ever getting a chance with her.
And do I really want a chance with her? Or am I just out to fuck her once and be done?
“You’re looking at me as if you want to eat me like that taco,” Gracie says, leaning over to casually slurp on the straw in her mostly empty drink.
I hold back any talk of eating her actual taco and study her, still wondering exactly how I should respond to her.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” she continues. “You eating my taco.”
Nice to know she caught her own reference. “Why not?”
“We’d be bad together.”
Fuck no, we would not. “Why do you say that?”
“I’m too old for you. I’m about to embark on my career while you’re still playing around, trying to figure out what you want to do with your life,” she says.
I take immediate offense to that. “You make me sound like a kid.”
She raises a brow, just before she shoves a chip in her mouth.
“I’m all man, baby,” I tell her, sounding like the biggest cheeseball ever, and she bursts out laughing.
“Oh, I’m sure you are, Caleb. But I’m not impressed by the size of your dick or all the moves you could make on my, ahem, taco,” she says, still laughing. “You’re still a kid up here.” She taps her temple.
“You’re judging me because I don’t know what I want to do with my life?” I started college with my major undeclared and my counselor kind of forced my hand. I figured business was just about as general as you could get, so I went for it.
Now I’ve taken all of these bullshit classes about international business and world economics or whatever the fuck, and I have no idea what I’m doing, or if it’s going to apply to what I end up doing with my life. I don’t envision myself as an international businessman. I can see Tony doing that, but not me.
Never me.
“No, I’m judging you for still acting like a kid,” she says, just as she takes a vicious bite out of her taco.
“I’m only twenty,” I remind her.
“And I’m almost twenty-three,” she returns.
“You’re, like, six months from that. Just like I’m only a few months from twenty-one.”
“I’m about to start teaching.”
“Student teaching,” I stress.
“Same diff.” She shrugs. “I’m pretty much done with college. I’m not getting any younger. I suppose I should look for someone…solid.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Husband potential,” she says plainly.
That word makes my balls shrivel up. Husband. Please. I am not ready for that. Not even close. And honestly? I don’t think she is either. She’s just trying to scare me or whatever.
“Have fun finding your husband then,” I say, taking a sip of my iced tea. “Hope you find him soon, so you two can settle down and eventually lead a very boring life together.”
“My life is not going to be boring,” she says, full of irritation.
“Right. Keep telling yourself that as you teach the same bunch of brats every day, year in and year out. Going home to your nice guy who wears a suit and glasses to work, who’s slightly balding, but not enough to be too obvious, and already has a paunch around the middle thanks to his desk job and a penchant for too many IPAs on the weekends,” I continue, warming up to the idea of Gracie’s future.