Page 5 of Bingeworthy
“Not sure why you wanted to meet me here, since I don’t have my things with me.”
“It’s close to my condo and I happened to see you on the street while I was on the way to your apartment,” he explains.
“Crazy coincidence,” I point out.
He turns and opens the passenger door. “I’ll take you home to get your things.”
Am I doing this?
On the short drive to my apartment, which would take thirty minutes by subway, I welcome the warmth of his car and the faint scent of spicy aftershave. Much better than the aroma of pee down in the tunnels.
“So, how’s Matthew?” I ask. He’s the thing we have in common. What else do I do? Sit here in complete silence?
Rocco’s knuckles grip the steering wheel harder, then relax. “Matthew moved to Florida to work for his grandfather’s landscaping business. He’s spending the holiday there.”
I tilt my head. “Why aren't you there now?”
“Lucille and Derek invited me first,” he says.
My parents have invited Rocco to holiday festivities year after year, but he’s been a hermit for half a decade. So why did he say yes this time?
At my apartment, Rocco waits on the curb, leaning against his car with arms folded.
I push down the wild, unidentifiable feelings about this mysterious man as I hurry upstairs. The essentials get tossed into my weekend bag, along with a few nonessentials.
I lock up my shitty apartment, wondering what Rocco’s condo looks like. He probably doesn’t have to share a kitchen and bathroom with five separate 200-square-foot apartments.
Back down on the street, Rocco’s gaze darts to the weekend bag that I have slung over my shoulder. Before I even have time to feel awkward about his eyes on me, Rocco slides the bag away and hauls it to the car.
It’s then that I notice my bra strap has slipped down my shoulder. I reach into the front of my coat and hike up the strap, hoping no one sees.
The hatchback closes, and he turns to me, holding open the passenger door. His face is passive.
Rocco had the same look while watching me leave for prom that night with Matthew. He had stood on his porch, leaning on a post. Only he was wearing a wrinkled concert tee-shirt. And there was his son, my first boyfriend, in a picture-perfect suit and tie, and yet I couldn’t take my eyes off Rocco.
I had locked that moment away until now.
I didn’t understand my reaction to him then, but now I do.
He’s old enough to be your dad, Tiffany. And besides that, what are you to him other than a painful reminder of the past?
Whatever physical attraction is happening right now, I need to stuff it all down for good.
Chapter Two
Iam so annoying.
I can tell this because Rocco doesn’t say much for the first hour of the trip.
He gives me polite nods and engages in active listening with the occasional grunt as I ramble on and on about everything and nothing.
“You know,” I say at one point, “It’s a blessing in disguise, you picking me up. Spending the evening alone after losing my job? That would suck.”
“You got fired? Today?” Rocco asks. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
His sincerity touches me, as it sounds beyond paternal and more like a friend.
“Thanks, I’m totally screwed,” I laugh. “I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
