She was right. It wasn’t that big of a deal.
And I could handle a twenty-dollar gift.
But, since I liked giving gifts that people would actually use, I wouldn’t half-ass it no matter how much I spent. Or who I got.
Which was why I stopped at the Dollar Store on the way back to work after holding Dalton for two hours.
I picked up several bags of chips and took them into the break room with me when I got back.
Since no one was here, I started on my twenty-dollar gift, and had the fourth bag of chips almost sorted out when Gunner walked in carrying a to-go drink from the gas station down the street.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Gunner had a frown on his face, but I knew it wasn’t due to me not being here earlier. I hadn’t been expected until after lunch anyway.
“I’m sorting out the folded chips from the non-folded ones,” I mumbled as I continued my task. “Why?”
I thought about not answering truthfully, but I saw no point in lying.
“It’s for Calli’s gift…and birthday,” I murmured.
“When’s her birthday?” he asked.
“Next week. December twenty-sixth, to be exact,” I answered. “But I know that she likes this particular brand of chips, and they’re only out for the holidays, so I bought as many as I could and started to sort through them, picking out only the folded ones.”
“How do you know that she only likes the folded ones?” he wondered.
“Watched her eat,” I admitted. “When we go out to Mexican, she only reaches for the ones that’ve been folded, or partially folded. And she’ll eat all the folded ones out of the bags of chips and give the rest away when she’s done.”
“That’s pretty interesting,” he said. “It’s almost as if you like her.”
I didn’t say anything to that.
I did like her.
Even though she drove me fucking nuts and said and did things that I didn’t necessarily like hearing.
Calliope may be abrasive as fuck, but she still got my heart racing despite her faults.
Ultimately, that was my problem.
I shouldn’t like her.
“Didn’t you tell her a few weeks ago that she was irresponsible? That she needed to learn to grow up?”
I had done that.
“I was frustrated,” I excused my behavior. “She broke down on the side of 635 where there’s barely enough room to pull over, let alone pull over and do anything safely. All of that could’ve been prevented if she’d listen to that little ding that tells her she needs to get fucking gas.”
Hell, Calli breaking down was a pretty normal experience.
It’d just been me dealing with her breakdowns the last several times.
Not because no one else would help her, but because I was the one who wanted to help her.
I just plain wanted her.
Which was the worst idea ever.
