Page 8 of Britain

Britain

It’s been two days since my weird afternoon with Silas. I don’t know what possessed me to have lunch with him…Okay, he followed me, and I made him pay. But what possessed me to share about my family? I’m not known for being real open with people. Hell, I don’t think my family knows the real me, but maybe that’s because I don’t, either.

I walk into my parents’ home, calling out for my mom. Following the sound of her voice, I find her in her sewing room, sitting at her machine. She makes blankets, clothes for my nieces, and decorative pillows that she sells at little shops around town. The woman also writes beautiful poetry and has even been published. “Hi, angel,” she says.

When I was younger, she told me I looked just like an angel. Ever since, that’s what she’s always called me. “Hey, Momma. What’re you working on?”

“A blanket for one of my patients.” My mom works part time as a hospice nurse at United Methodist Hospital. She’s tried to teach me to sew, but I was born without that gene. “What brings you by? Not that I’m not happy to see my baby girl.”

I grab a chair out of the corner of my room and move it next to my mom’s white table with the Singer heavy-duty sewing machine I bought her with my graduation money. I knew I wasn’t going to go to college, so I used that money to do stuff for my family. “Nothing, I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d come see if you were home.”

She looks at me closely, and I should’ve known better than to lie because she can always tell. Mom grabs my hands. “Baby girl, you’re a terrible liar. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I tell her about the guy who thought I was a lesbian. Then I tell her about Silas. “I could tell he was truly sorry, and I really don’t know why he reacted like that to me.”

She reaches out and brushes a loose strand of my blonde hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear. “You’ve always been such a natural beauty, and you have the biggest heart. Maybe, just maybe, he could see that and it surprised him. I love your father and brothers with all my heart, but let’s face it: Men aren’t the smartest creatures sometimes.”

I can’t help but laugh at her words. I hold her palm to my cheek as she cups it, and I smile. She’s shown me what it’s like to have a mother who protects you and loves you, not one who uses you as their personal doll and takes you into a situation that no child should have been in. My mom, my true mom, held me when I was afraid to go to sleep or scared to be around strangers. Sheila didn’t push me out, but she is my mother and always will be.

Even though I was only six when it happened, I remember every second of that day like it’s been burned into my brain. I push those thoughts away. After standing up, I lean down and wrap my arms around her, hugging her tight. “I love you, Momma.” The smell of “Loveswept” fills my nose. It’s the scent I’ve bought for her every year for the past five. She loves it and I do too—it’s not overwhelming. It’s clean, light, and fresh.

“I love you too, baby girl. Stay for dinner?” She stands up, all five-foot-nine inches of her. I’m the shorty in the family. I’m sure my nieces will also be taller than me when they grow up.

I end up helping my mom cook dinner and then stay to eat with her, my dad, Marcus and his latest honey, Becca. Marcus and I talk shop while Mom and Dad speak to Becca about her job. She runs her own CrossFit gym or box—whatever it’s called. She’s muscular but still feminine, and I can see why my brother is into her. Her ebony hair, porcelain skin, and blue eyes make her look like an extremely fit version of Snow White.

I left before they did, and on the way home I stop at the gas station for snacks and to fill up my tank. After I finish pumping gas I head inside, the sound of the bell greeting me over the door. The place smells like coffee, and it makes my mouth water. I’m one of those people who can drink coffee and go right to bed.

I grab a cup and stick it under the nozzle for sugar-free French vanilla cappuccino. The whirring sound fills my ears as the scent of vanilla hits my nose. I stiffen when I feel someone’s body heat against my back, but then a familiar voice has me relaxing…sort of. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” His voice is deep and rich, causing a riotous feeling deep in my gut.

Turning to face him, I tip my head back. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me.”

He bends down until we’re eye to eye. “I saw your car as I was driving by. I had to see you again.” His minty breath hits my face. He stands to his full height. “Come have a drink with me.” He’s not asking, he’s telling. I want to argue, but a voice deep inside of me is telling me I’d regret it if I don’t.

I nod my head, and it pleases me to see the smile on his face is a relieved one. He takes my drink from me and carries it to the counter. I follow behind him and see that he’s paying for it.

“You didn’t need to do that, but thank you.” He hands me the cup. “So where are we going?” Why doesn’t he scare me or make me nervous? Maybe because there’s something about him that I’m drawn to.

“How about we go to the Coffee Hound? That’s kind of our place.” He chuckles when he says it.

I just shake my head. “Fine, but I’m meeting you there.”

“Okay. I’ll be right behind you.” With a hand at the small of my back, he leads me outside.

That’s when I see his Porsche parked right behind my car. I’m kind of itching to drive his ride, but I don’t let anyone drive my baby—well, except for my dad. I climb in my baby and turn her on. The sound of her rumbling has me closing my eyes and enjoying it for just a second before I throw her in gear and pull out onto the street.

A few blocks away I pull my car into the parking lot, Silas pulls in right next to me, and before I can open my door, he’s doing it for me. I take his offered hand and climb out. He tightens his grip, prohibiting me from removing my hand from his. I should be freaking out—this virtual stranger is touching me—but all I feel is a calm sensation that comes over me.

We make our way inside and the scent of fresh coffee beans hits me. I feel bad that the gas station one is still full sitting in the cup holder, but with the promise of good coffee, I just couldn’t do it.

Hand-in-hand we walk up to the counter. The girl behind the counter is one I don’t know, and she’s glancing between us with a confused look on her face. I’m sure she’s wondering what he’s doing with me. He’s dressed in dark jeans that mold to his lean, muscled legs and a black button-up shirt that has the sleeves rolled up. Even untucked, the shirt looks amazing on him. What surprises me, though, is on his feet are a pair of black Nikes. I assume they’re probably something fancy, liked a limited-edition something.

I, on the other hand, am dressed in a pair of faded black leggings, a Cubs jersey, and my beat-up pair of black-and-white Adidas. I’m not wearing any makeup and my hair is up in a knot on top of my head. I lean toward him. “She’s wondering what you’re doing with me.”

He surprises me by turning me to face him. Again, he leans down so we’re eye to eye. “Do I look like the type of guy who gives a fuck?” I shake my head. “That’s because I’m not. Truthfully speaking, she’s probably wondering what a beauty such as yourself is doing with a punk like me.”

I stare at him a beat, and then surprise him and myself when I lean forward and kiss his cheek. I quickly turn away from him, my heart pounding. At the counter I order my drink and avoid looking at him. I can’t believe I kissed him.

Could he tell how inexperienced I was? No, of course not, I only kissed his cheek. Silas steps up next to me and orders his drink. After he pays, he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me into his side. What’s his deal with needing to touch me all of a sudden? And why am I okay with it?

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