Page 85 of Lotus

“I have no idea what cumbersome means, but it was a damn good song,” Gabe responds offhandedly, still staring at Tabitha’s picture on the screen. He blinks himself out of the trance, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Take her out. You can even borrow my car since you can legally drive now.”

That much is true. I passed my driver’s test at the end of the summer, but I haven’t been able to put my license to good use yet. Gabe allows me to use his vehicle for grocery store runs, however, I don’t have the funds to purchase my own means of transportation. It’s just another stressor weighing me down.

“Thank you,” I mutter, rising to my feet. “I made pancakes, by the way, if you’re hungry.”

“Ah, fuck, work.” Gabe jumps from the couch like I lit a match underneath him. “I’m still fuckin’ half-naked. I’ll snag some pancakes for the road.”

He points two index fingers at me, a signal of gratitude I presume, then races down the hallway to his bedroom.

I do the same.

My intentions were to lose myself in my comics—my favorite source of distraction—but I make my way over to the bed instead, pulling a book from the nightstand drawer.

It’s one of Sydney’s romantic novels, brimming with explicit sexual content and debauchery. She let me borrow a whole stack of them, more so as a joke after our teasing altercation, but I find that I’m learning a lot about her through these stories.

I’m learning about what kind of attributes she appreciates in a male counterpart.

The heroes between these pages are not noble or kind. They are dark, twisted men, sometimes cruel and violent. They take, they hurt, they punish.

Is that what Sydney prefers? Is that the kind of man she desires?

I am nothing like her fantasy heroes.

But perhaps I can be.

An hour goes by and I close the book, my mind restless and agitated. Without thinking it through, I reach for my cellular device and start typing out an electronic message.

Me:Hello, it’s Oliver. I’m finding myself thinking about you and was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me so we can talk.

The phone pings to life from the bedspread.

Tabitha:I’d love to.

Forty-eight hours later, there is knocking on the front door once again. Only, this time, I know exactly who it is.

I’m fastening my burgundy button-down when I hear Gabe call out, “I’ll get it!”

Healsoknows exactly who it is. A chuckle escapes me.

When I make my way out of the bedroom, Gabe is standing in the foyer, gawking at my date for the evening. He manages to find the courtesy to let her inside, his eyes trailing her as she passes through the threshold with a bemused smile. They share an endearing greeting before Tabitha spots me standing at the top of the steps.

“Hello,” I say.

Her smile broadens as Gabe steps away, hands in his pockets. “Hi, Oliver. It’s great to see you.”

Tabitha looks stunning in a black, long-sleeved dress with the hem just skimming her knees. Her peacoat hangs open, her hair flowing over both shoulders like obsidian waterfalls. My fingers sweep through my own lightly styled hair as I clear my throat. “You found a caretaker for little Hope?”

“Luckily, yes. My cousin came through at the last minute.”

Gabe interrupts, his eyes going wide. “You have a kid?”

“I do,” she responds sweetly, not taking offense to the blunt question. Her gaze shifts to Gabe, irises glittering like shiny pennies. “She’s turning one next month.”

“Shit, that’s cool.”

My stepbrother appears nervous, or “off his game” as he’s referenced in the past. Perhaps he’s taken a liking to this woman. Her beauty is quite striking, I have to admit.

Making my way down the short staircase, I wait for Tabitha’s eyes to drift back to me. It takes a moment, which is a curious thing. “Are you ready to go?”

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