Page 9 of Protecting Tiffani

“Baby.Onebaby, you dick,” Emilee says, looking up into Parker’s eyes with so much love that I have to suppress a gag.

“Damn straight, I did.” The look of pride in his eyes makes me ache with jealousy. If my plan had gone how I wanted it to years ago, I could be in the same position as him right now. But no, fate had to fuck it all up.

“Look, I love the two of you, but I’m going to head back home. Adam said the bid went through on the school, and I need the money,” I say, standing up and heading to the spare room to grab my bag. I need to leave this love den before I die, and I really do need that job. Once all my stuff is placed correctly in my bag, I haul it over my shoulder and head back out.

Emilee meets me by the front door and embraces me tightly. “I’m so happy you are home, Bubba. I missed you. And now I don’t have to stress about you because stress isn’t good for the baby.”

I place a kiss on her head. “Me too, Sissy. I missed you as well. And babies.”

She pulls back as Parker comes over, offering me a handshake. “It was nice seeing you, man. Our spare room is always open for you, anytime you need it. Just call before you show up.” He smirks like the cat who ate the bird.

“Don’t worry, I will. I’ll only make that mistake once. I don’t want to hear you telling my sister how good of a girl she is ever again. How your neighbors haven’t complained about your loud ass sex is beyond me.” I grimace at the memory of what I heard when I got here.

That earns me a slap on my chest from Em. “Do not ever remind me of that again,” she growls at me.

“Why did I get slapped? It wasn’t my fault. Shit,” I say, rubbing the spot her palm connected, trying to get the sting out.

Em laughs, and I place a kiss on her cheek as I walk out her door and head to my car. Before leaving the apartment complex, I connect my phone and turn on a playlist. Thirty minutes into the drive, I notice what list I clicked, and I quickly fumble around, trying to get my phone out of my pocket. The words to “What If I Never Get Over You” by Ryan Hurd blare through my speakers, making the rubber band that is constantly around my heart pull tight. My screen lights up, and I see the title “Don’t listen to this unless you’re drunk” staring back at me. Four years ago, I thought creating this sad ass list was the right thing to do, but I strictly listen to the title.

The car swerves to the right, and the tires hit the groove in the road, making it shake. I correct it and finally start a different song. How can one girl ruin you for any other female? Ever since I first laid eyes on Tiffani, no other girl has held my attention. I mean, for fuck’s sake, I’m a twenty-two-year old, red-blooded male. I should be out sowing my wild oats, but I can’t. I’ve tried multiple times to pick up a random girl in a bar, walking down the street, and even over dating apps, but all I see is her. All my body, heart, and soul crave is the one person I can’t have anymore. I have to stay away from her for my own safety and hers. For the rest of the drive home, I blare rock music that does not bring back memories of gorgeous blue eyes, long reddish-brown hair, and a body to die for.

Rounding the corner by the frozen food section, I double-check the list Mom made for me in order to make sure I don’t forget anything. I’ve done the food shopping for myself ever since leaving home, but I never made a list. I just went into the store and bought what looked good and things I could cook in the microwave. The one and only time I tried to cook real, adult food, I burnt it and set the fire alarm off in the barracks. The guys in my platoon never let me live down burning mac and cheese, the most uncomplicated fucking food to cook. Therefore, I made sure Mom gave me the list I’m currently staring at.

Stopping to pull broccoli out of the freezer, the last thing and head to check out. There is a small line, but I’m in no hurry to return home and spend my night alone. I stop behind an elderly lady and fold the list, placing it in my pocket. Suddenly, the hair on my arms stands up, and my pulse starts to race like a threat is nearby. I never saw combat while I was in the military, but that is the easiest way I can describe what is happening to my body right now. The doors open, and the wind from the storm blows in, and my nostrils flare as a smell flows back from the person at the front of the line. I know that smell.

That smell haunts me, and I’m sure I would notice it even if I was dead. It smells like fresh-cut roses and apples. Tiffani is here. It’s like she’s a beacon, and I’m a moth. My eyes find her in a second. She’s standing at the front of the line talking to the cashier. She hasn’t noticed me or anyone by the looks of it. I let my gaze sweep over her, and I see the changes that have happened over the last four years.

She is smaller than she was before. Gone are her lush curves, and she looks too thin, in my opinion. Her hair is as long as it was in high school, almost to the middle of her back. She has it pulled up into a ponytail, and I wonder why because she always complained that it gave her headaches. I would spend hours running my hands through it, massaging her scalp to help her get rid of them. She always told me that as soon as she was out from under her parents, she was chopping it off and keeping it short. Her clothes don’t look like the designer brands she wore back then either. What happened to her?

What she’s saying to the cashier reaches my ears and makes my blood run hot as my anger the one emotion I can barely control rears its ugly head. “I’m so sorry about that. It looks like I don’t have the money needed. Is it possible to take the peanut butter off? I believe I’ll have enough for the rest.”

What the fuck does she mean she doesn’t have the money? I can easily see the small amount of food she’s trying to buy: a loaf of bread, a half gallon of milk, a carton of eggs, a bag of beans, a very small package of ground hamburger meat, two bananas, and the peanut butter she is trying to put back. That can’t cost that much. Her parents are loaded. Nothing makes sense to me. I try to secretly get the cashier’s attention by waving my hand.

Finally, the young girl looks at me. I expect Tiffani to turn her head, but she never does. Her face is bright red with a blush, and it seems like she’s fighting off tears. “I’ll pay for it.” I mouth to the cashier, not wanting to embarrass Tif any more than she undoubtedly is right now. I pray that she doesn’t turn around and my wish is granted. Why does that hurt my heart?

I hope the cashier doesn’t say anything, and my wish is granted again, as she tells Tiffani it’s okay without a fuss. Tiffani grabs her single bag and heads out the door without looking back. The line moves as the elderly lady comments on Tiffani. “It’s so sad what happened to that young lady. My heart hurts for her, but that’s what happens when a good girl goes bad. I don’t blame her parents for cutting her off. I would do the same. Her parents raised her better than that. I heard drugs were the final straw. Not to mention the young man she was sneaking around seeing. I heard he was a drug dealer.”

The young girl checking us out rolls her eyes. “She comes in here every week and sometimes doesn’t have enough like today.” Her words are laced with venom and makes me see red.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people? What did she do to either of you that gives you the right to judge her or, worse, speak badly about her behind her back? If you have the balls to say it behind her back, say it to her face, but make sure I never fucking hear it,” I seethe at both of them, not caring about the manners I was raised with. My mind clings to the words “drugs, drug dealer, and, her parents cut her off.” That doesn’t sound like Tiffani and doesn’t sit right in my stomach. Knowing the type of person her father really is, makes me believe that there is more to the rumors running rampant in this fucking town.

“Excuse me, young man,” the elderly woman clutches her shirt in horror.

“There is no excuse for you in my eyes. If you are going to be nasty about others, you don’t get to complain when someone calls you on your bullshit,” I say point blank, not breaking eye contact with her.

“Someone should have taught you some manners.”

“They did. Which is more than you can say, I bet,” I state.

She pays for her items and leaves me alone with the girl whose name I see is Nora. “I’m sorry if what I said bothered you.”

“It’s too late to apologize now. Plus, I’m not the person you should be apologizing to. How short was she?” I ask, pulling out my wallet to pay for mine and Tiffanis.

“Three dollars and twenty-three cents, sir. Your total is fifty-three dollars and nine cents.” She doesn’t look at me while she bags my stuff.

I hand her sixty and wait for my change. “Have a nice day,” she says.

Placing the bags in the cart, I turn to leave but stop short of the door. “You said she comes in on the same day?” I ask as I turn around.

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