I smile over to her. “Well, things are looking really good in there. I’m looking forward to some of my students spending time here.”
* * *
“Hi Mom!” I answer the phone as I’m walking through the door of my apartment. She asks how I’m doing, how things have been, the usual check in she’s been doing every week since I moved to Tampa. “Thanksgiving, right. I’d love to see you and Aunt Joanne.” My mom and her sister will be coming to town for a couple days and since Chase has to play on Thanksgiving, we decided to forego a big dinner and go to the game.
“Hey, Ma,” Chase yells out when he realizes I’m on the phone with her. Setting the phone down on speaker on the counter, she tells Chase and I all about the cruise she just got back from.
“Sounds fun, when are you taking me on one?” Chase blurts out as he walks down the hall, popping almonds in his mouth laughing.
“Ignore him, mom. I’m glad you had a good time.” After wrapping up the call with my mom, I head into my room to change into something more comfortable. Before I’m able to even get a fresh tank top over my head, my phone is buzzing again.
Ford
Pizza or chicken wings?
I don’t know how I feel about the smile that spreads across my face when his name pops up on my screen, but I can’t stop it. It’s felt so good lately to do things on my own terms, do things I want to do and not feel like I’m walking on eggshells all the time. Whether I want to admit it out loud or not, I know Ford has something to do with the confidence that’s replaced a lot of my timidness.
Depends.
Ford
On what?
Pizza goes with movies and ice cream. Chicken wings go with beer and nachos.
That’s my logic and I’m sticking to it.
Ford
Coffee shop, fifteen minutes.
Biting my bottom lip to smother another smile caused by this man, I throw on a pair of shorts, grab my shoes and open my bedroom door. The moment I do, I run right into Chase as he’s walking down the hall to his own room.
“Woah, where are you headed?” I probably should have thought of an excuse before barreling out of my room,
“Oh um… Mia’s.”
He stares at me for a second before nodding his head and says, “Have fun.”
Somehow dodging any other questions, I head out the door and make my way to the coffee shop to meet Ford.
I’ve been replaying the conversation Abby and I had the other night over and over. How the fuck could someone treat her like that? Every time I thought of her ex dismissing her feelings about her dad or the way she described their interactions, my fists would clench and rage would flood my body.
I know this situation between us is strictly friends, friends with benefits, to “scratch the itch” as she refers to it. And I’m willing to go with that, for now, but something ignited within me the other night. Suddenly, a rush of protectiveness filled me, and as long as Abby is in my life, as a friend or otherwise, I’ll never let anyone treat her like that again.
I’m pulling up to the coffee shop to pick her up and I see her standing there in a tight tank top–it looks the same shade of green as her eyes–and cut off denim shorts, the ones that show off her legs. When she hops in my truck, she immediately flips her shoes off, something I’ve noticed she does every time she’s in the passenger seat, and it makes me wonder if she even drives with shoes on.
“So, what’s with the impromptu hang out, Anderson?” she blurts out while she buckles her seatbelt.
“I needed to eat. I figure you need to eat too.”
She eyes me and then runs a hand through her hair, something that drives me fucking wild every time. The more time I’m spending with Abby, the more I’m picking up on the little things she does and it turns out that all the little things are things I like, a lot.
“Uh huh...” She flicks her wrist in the air and rolls down the window slightly.
“Just trust me,” I say to her while keeping my focus on the road.
“Okay,” she whispers while she looks out the window.
