“Don’t try anything, dude. ’Kay?” I grunt it out low, infused with a threat, but the suit just giggles to himself like a schoolgirl and snatches the leaf off Daisy’s crotch before I can process it.
“Fucker!” I lunge over Daisy’s body and pull him to the side where I knee him in the stomach time and time again.
Daisy bolts up and screams, sending food off all four limbs like a sea of flying leeches.
“Come here.” I whip off my jacket and cover her, helping her to the exit as a crowd amasses from nowhere.
“What’s the matter with you?” she shrieks in my face. “This was my job.” Those last few words dissolve in a whimper. Her eyes harden over the dickhead who saw fit to expose her more than needed. “Andyou!” She stomps over to him with my jacket cinched to her chest. “You are a ridiculous human being who obviously never left the seventh grade!” She snatches the leaf from his hand. “I believe this belongs to me.” Daisy heads toward the door before backtracking. “And as for you, Jet”—her eyes circle over my features with such fury I brace myself for the slap—“thank you.” She takes off, leaving a trail of sushi rolls to the door.
Jody comes up, breathless, with a beer in each hand. “Talk about your psychos. What was that about?”
“She’s not a psycho. Some idiot was about to assault her.”
Jody cuts a hard look around. “No offense, but men can be pigs.”
Does Daisy think I’m a pig?
“I’d better go.” I take off after her like I should have ten seconds ago.
“Wait!” Jody calls out after me. “I didn’t mean it! You’re totally not a pig!”
The jury is still out on that one.
But it’s not her opinion that counts.
All the wayhome I wonder where the heck Daisy could have gone. There wasn’t a sign of her car by the time I hit the parking lot, but in my defense, the lot was huge. I could’ve missed it. As soon as I see that silver Honda parked in front of the house, my entire body exhales. It’s as if a weight has been lifted off my chest, and it has. I’m glad to know she’s safe and sound—where she’s supposed to be. For whatever reason, it feels right having her here. When I saw her taking care of Lucky that night in the bar, it warmed me. I hadn’t felt that much affection for another person outside of my family for as long as I can remember.
The house is dark when I enter, save for the seam of light coming from under her door. I flick on every lamp from the front door to my bedroom just to let her know I’m here. Electricity, or the lack thereof, has been our subliminal language. Daisy and I haven’t exactly sought out a conversation with one another. I head down the hall, and my breathing picks up as if I’ve just run a marathon. I can feel her weight behind that door, pressing against my chest like a boulder. The only way to alleviate the pressure is to open it up, make sure she’s all right.
I give a gentle knock without thinking twice. “Everything okay in there?”
“Yes. Go away.” She might have intended for it to come out hostile, but it came out wounded, and it tears me up to hear it.
“If you need anything, you know where to find me.” My hand finds a home over the door, and I pat it softly as if I’m touching her skin. “You know”—I swallow hard—“I may not look like it, but I’m a good listener.”
An entire eternity of silence drifts by before I head into my bedroom. I flick on the TV, landing it on my favorite reality show about a bunch of dudes who create custom bikes and try my hardest to veg out.
A gentle knock comes over the door before it opens and in walks Daisy wrapped in a pink fuzzy robe, frilly PJs peeking out from underneath. She looks sweet, innocent, and judging by that injured look on her face, her ego took a major blow tonight.
“What are we watching?” She climbs up next to me and sits close enough to where our thighs touch, but far enough for me to know that anything else is up for negotiation. I’m fine with it. Just having her here, next to me in any capacity, feels like more than enough.
“Anything you want.” I toss her the remote. It might as well have been my heart. I’ve never given up the remote before, and that meager act of surrender stuns me to the core. I’d ask why the hell am I being so nice. Why the hell do I feel lighter than air when she’s in the room with me and heavier than the planet when she’s not—but I think I know. I shake the pseudo psychoanalysis out of my head for now.
A soft laugh strums through her, and she snuggles up to my arm. “I’m not here to change your world.” She plants the remote carefully back into my hand.
“You need me to listen?”
She shakes her head, her chest heaves with the faintest sniffle. “Just thought it’d be nice to sit here a while. You smell good.”
“I do?” The thirteen-year-old in me gets the urge to sniff my pits, but I wisely resist. “You smell good.” I lean into her playfully. “Like strawberries and vanilla.”
“That sounds like a smoothie.”
I run my hand down the length of her thigh. “You are pretty smoothie.”
“Very funny.” She smacks me over the chest lightly. “You were pretty smoothie yourself tonight. Can I ask what you were doing there?”
“Only if I can ask the same.” I’m not trying to pigeonhole her. I just can’t wrap my head around why she would keep putting herself in these compromising situations.
