Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I drape a blanket over him. My coworker Jenny crocheted the blanket herself, and it always makes me smile to see all the rainbows and flowers draped over my bearded, tattooed, scary-looking biker dad.
The stairs creak as I pad up them as quietly as I can and head to the bathroom to wash my face. With my makeup remover pad, I wipe off my red lipstick and mascara and stare at myself in the mirror. I look younger without makeup. More innocent.
But that’s why I like makeup. It’s my armor. My game face.
Nobody gets to know the real Maddie, not anymore. Nobody except Dad and my best friend Emily. We’ve knowneach other since we were little girls, and she’s basically my sister.
I miss her.
We used to hang out every weekend, but now she’s married and living her best life with her amazing husband in a town an hour away. She’s even going to college now. I’m so happy for her—nobody deserves it like she does—but I’m a lot lonelier than I imagined without her by my side all the time.
I know that’s life. People move away. Get married. Start new adventures. Have families of their own.
But I can’t help but wonder if that’ll ever happen for me.
I was born in Tower. I’ll probably never leave. There are no new adventures to be had anymore, only the old ones all over again. And I know all the people here already, and I’d sooner die a nun than marry any of the guys here.
There is a new guy in town,a voice inside me whispers.
But I ignore that voice.
And I get out my vibrator instead.
And if I happen to picture a certain set of blue-green eyes, and a strong, fit body, and perfect set of lips murmuring “Madison” while I do what I need to do…
Well, nobody has to know about what happens in the depths of my imagination.
It’s Valentine’s Day. Might as well end it with an orgasm.
Even if I’m wishing it’s a certain someone else giving me one.
CHAPTER 5
Passion Project
As the days go by, when I’m not slammed at the bar, I can’t help but sneak glances at Luke again and again. He deals with all his new fans with polite but professional disinterest. He doesn’t return their flirtation. Doesn’t smile.
It only makes them work that much harder for his attention.
At closing time, Luke and I settle into what’s become our routine. Every night, he helps me clean up. Then he always walks me to my car. He even opens the door for me and closes it once I’m in before he heads back to his truck.
Every night, also without fail, I’m tempted to roll down my window again. To ask him why I catch him looking at me all the time, but he still won’t make a move.
But I don’t.
He’s my coworker.
More than that, though, he’s become my friend.
Yes, I could really use getting put through the mattress by a hot cowboy right now.
But I think I need a friend even more.
Because the thing is—I really like having Luke around. In fact, I really like him as a person, which is more than I can say for most of the men I encounter on a regular basis.
He asks me questions about myself—not in a pushy or intrusive way, or like there’s some agenda behind it—just like he really wants to know me.
And I find myself telling him the little details I don’t give most people. How I cry at the first ten minutes of the Pixar movie “Up” every time. That I hate cooking but I learned how to do it so I could feed myself and Dad something healthier than boxed mac and cheese.
