Page 11 of Clear Your Mind

She smooths down her clothes as I try to register her disappointment in having her clothes not ruined.

Then it hits me, she wore white to a GWAR show. No one does that unless they want… “Shit, sorry. I didn’t think.” Her disappointment is eating away at me for some unknown reason.

“But, hey, I hear they’re playing next weekend not far from here, maybe we could go and get those jeans good and stained.”

I rub the back of my neck like a virginal teen asking out my first girl. I hear Cowboy snickering but ignore him.

Krystal’s shocked look mirrors my own. Where the notion comes from, I have no fucking clue, except I don’t want this, whatever it is, to just end.

I cut my eyes toward Cowboy, waiting toshoot his shot. Fuck that noise.

“Are you asking me out?” The glint in her eyes both scares and excites me.

“I guess.” This is uncharted territory for me. The last person I asked out on a date was in high school. “Call it what you want,” I add just to preserve some small part of my masculinity that is disappearing quickly.

The gleam dims and I wish I could suck the last words back into my stupid mouth.

“I’m pretty sure that goes against what you promised.” Her smile is blinding, but not as genuine as the ones she’d gifted to me earlier. Fuck, I’m the worst kind of ass.

Before I can backtrack and tell heryes, I’m asking you out, she glances at her smartwatch again and curses before sprinting upstairs.

When I catch up to her on the second floor, Krystal returns from my room wearing one boot. She pauses outside my door, zipping the other and holding her phone to her ear.

“Hey slut, where are you?” she speaks into the phone. “Good, we’ve got less than an hour to get back, slam a cup of shit hotel coffee, and plaster on a smile. I’ll order a ride. Meet me downstairs.”

Before she ends the call, I shout loud enough to be heard through the phone and possibly the walls too. “She’s got a ride.”

A muffled “So does she” comes from the room next to mine.

3

KRYSTAL

My brain reels the entire ride back to the hotel. Any more time in Buddy’s company and I’ll get whiplash. The sexy-as-sin man in front of me is a complete study in contradiction.

He’d been up front with what I could expect from him, a verbal agreement. One I am more than happy with. Better to spell out the expectations beforehand than to have hurt feelings later.

When I said he was the perfect date, I meant it. A relationship isn’t in the cards for me at present. I don’t have the time or energy to invest in a man.

The desire to say yes is warring with my “I don’t need a man”voice in my head, especially after last night. There was a connection with him, unlike my other tension-release partners.

No, I shake my head. Buddy, while up front about what to expect, hadn’t been entirely forthcoming. I should be offended he saw me in the crowd and thought, “club girl.” But I don’t have the energy, nor can I blame someone for their initial impression of me.

Especially since most people aren’t privy to someone’s private thoughts about them. Just because Cowboy spilled that little can of beans doesn’t mean I have the right to feel any sort of way about the information.

As we pull into the hotel and Buddy heads for the parking lot, I point to the drop-off instead. No reason to make this more awkward than it needs to be.

I have to honor our agreement, no matter what my gut is telling me about connections or feelings, or auras. I finally learned to pay attention to signs after ignoring them bit me in the ass, but I’ll be ignoring them this one last time. Buddy has heartbreak written all over him, and I don’t have enough emotional duct tape to fix a broken heart.

He heels down the kickstand as I dismount, tugging my borrowed helmet off and offering it to him. He waves it off. I’m awkwardly thanking him for a great night and explaining there’s no need for a repeat.

Seriously, I am thanking a guy for dick in the busy roundabout drop-off of a hotel entrance. When he finally gets his own helmet off, I realize he can’t hear a single word I am saying.

“What’s that, love?”

I try handing him the helmet again.

“Keep it, you’ll need it next time. Besides, nowhere to put it.”

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