Page 13 of Yours To Keep
“I know you’re right, but I don’t wanna think about it right now,” I tell her, pulling my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. “I’ve gotta finish the weekly inventory. Talk to you guys later?” They both nod, and I quickly ring up Ember’s hoodies.
My phone buzzes again in my pocket, but I don’t check to see if it’s another message from Iris. I can’t afford to raise any more suspicions with my friends, or I’ll never hear the end of it. Once the door closes behind them, I look at my phone. Two messages from Iris pop up on the screen and my heart flops in my chest.
Dinner tomorrow night?
It wasn’t really a question. I was just being polite. I’ll pick you up at 8.
I scoff at his confidence. Only a man like Iris would demand I cancel whatever plans I already had to make sure I had time for him. Not that I had any plans to begin with, but still.
What if I had plans?
I reply, just fucking with him at this point. We both know I’ll be ready and waiting for him by 7:30.
You do have plans, angel. With me.
I laugh out loud at him. I love the way talking with him makes me feel. Like I can really be me, the real me, and it doesn’t matter because I don’t have to impress him. In the past, I never would have approached a guy like Iris. But knowing the man behind his devastatingly handsome face definitely eases my anxiety.
I pocket my cell, knowing the feeling in my gut is a dangerous one. I like him. I know I shouldn’t. In reality, he’s not a boyfriend kind of guy. And even if he was, I wouldn’t be the kind of girl he’s after. But I can’t help it. He makes me laugh and makes me feel like he’s really listening when I talk. But I know convincing myself he feels the same way would be the biggest mistake my heart ever made.
six
I’m halfan hour early to pick up Magnolia. Sliding my hand down my black button down, I strap my helmet onto the back on my Ducati and jog across the street to her apartment building. I didn’t tell her anything about why I wanted to meet with her tonight. I didn’t have time to explain at the moment that Jack, the owner of Pop’s, invited me out for dinner tonight to discuss the future of the bar. I made the mistake of telling him I had a girlfriend the other night at work and now he wants to meet her. Could I have said all of that to Magnolia in a text? Sure, but then I wouldn’t have been able to see her beautiful face. I push the button labeled M. Monroe and her voice immediately comes through the intercom.
“Why are you so early!?” she shouts, her voice panicked and shrill.
“Well, I was ready, and I didn’t wanna sit at home alone. Let me in,” I tell her the short answer, ignoring the fact that I was in a hurry to see her again.
“I’m not even dressed yet! Can’t you just wait in the car or something?” She says, sounding far away from the speaker. I love that I fluster her.
“What car? I’ve only got the bike, remember? You gonna make me stand out here in the cold for half an hour, angel?” I whine, preying on her good manners.
“It’s June, dumbass. Ughhh, fine!” She shouts, the door buzzing as it unlocks.
I jog up the two flights of stairs to her apartment door, knocking playfully just to annoy her.
“Housekeeping!” I yell, raising my voice several octaves.
The door swings open and she’s laughing, her nose crinkled the way it always does when she finds something genuinely funny. Every time I see her, I’m stunned by her beauty. Her auburn hair is a mess of beautiful curls and her minimal makeup accents the natural beauty of her dark green, almond-shaped eyes. For once, she hasn’t covered up the freckles dotted across her cheeks, and I’m struck with the urge to trace each one with my lips. Fuck, she is perfect.
Looking down at her black bike shorts and teal ‘Save The Sharks’ t-shirt, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so relaxed. While I love the pin-up style dresses she wears, every one of them accenting her curves to perfection, I decide this is how I like her the best.
“Hello, pretty lady. You ready to go?” I ask, stepping through the doorway.
“Um, obviously not,” she says, gesturing to her outfit.
“Well, grab some shoes and let’s go,” I tell her, not seeing any problem with the way she’s dressed.
“I cannot go out like this. Look at me!” she says, closing the door and looking at me like I’ve grown another head.
“Oh trust me, I am,” I admit, more lust in my tone than I intended. A deep red blush creeps up her neck, and I clear mythroat, not wanting to make our relationship uncomfortable or awkward.
“Just let me change real quick, okay?” She says, turning and walking back to her bedroom.
“Why? You look perfect,” I saw, as nonchalantly as possible. “You don’t have to be fancy. We’re just going to dinner with my boss.”
“WHAT?! Oh my god, Iris! Why didn’t you tell me that?! I have nothing nice in my closet right now. Everything is at the dry cleaners!” She’s panicking, but I’m doing everything I can to suppress a laugh.
“Mags, have you seen my boss? He’s an old man who owns a bar. Nothing fancy required, I promise. It’s just dinner. I mentioned to him that I had a girlfriend the other night, and he wants to meet you,” I tell her, trying to dissolve her anxiety.
