I am so totally fucked.
I can control this. Ihaveto.
9
SLOANE
Sunday has been awkward as hell after our encounter in the kitchen last night.
I’m lonely. That’s the only explanation there is. I’ve been here for a awhile, and have had zero social interaction with anyone but Beckett.
I workout down stairs in Beckett’s personal gym so that I don’t have to sit around in the awkwardness on the main level.
Trying to get the ghost of him off of me as I run on the treadmill. I still feel him, and he didn’t even really touch me. I close my eyes, which you should never do while on a treadmill, and feel his breath on my neck.
‘What game are you playing?’repeats in my head as the ghost of him haunts me through my workouts.
Do I actually want his attention, or do I just want to see if I can get it?I think to myself as I finish my run. Getting off the treadmill, I place my hands on my head and breathe hard.
After my shower, I throw on an oversized tee and some jean shorts.When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I look around and still don’t see Beckett.
I look out the back window to see one of the garage doors to the shop open.I smile to myself, making us something simple for lunch before going out there to see what he is doing.
To my surprise, he’s working on the car that he said was from his dad. Which is weird, because I was under the impression he was too busy to work on it.
“Uncle B,” I say, using the familiar nickname that also puts up a boundary between us.
I keep forgetting that he’s my dad’s best friend. That he is practically family. I shouldn’t be looking at him right now and thinking about how hot he looks while working in a t-shirt and jeans.Or about how good his dark hair looks as he runs his hand through it before putting his hat back on. Especially not about how good his strong body felt against mine yesterday. I definitely shouldn’t be looking at him and thinking about how much I’d like for his hands to be all over my body right now, rough and calloused, getting my freshly clean skin all dirty.I shouldn’t be thinking about any of it, yet for some reason…I am.
He stands up straight, his face giving nothing away.
“Peace offering,” I say, offering him a plate with a sandwich and some pasta salad.
“For what?” he asks, taking the plate and sitting down on one of the plastic chairs that he has out here.
“For last night. What I did was inappropriate, and I’m sorry if my being dressed like that made you uncomfortable,” I say, avoiding his gaze.
“You don’t have to apologize; it’s your house, too. You’re allowed to dress however you’d like,” he says, picking up the sandwich and taking a bite.
I nod, and we fall into silence while we eat, not awkward like it has been the rest of the day, but justthere.
“So, what are you doing?” I ask after we finish eating and throw our plates away.
“I’m trying to take this out so I can put the new one in,” He says, looking down at what I can only assume is the transmission, based on what he said before.
“The transmission, right?” I ask, looking down at the brick of metal pieces that all look the same to me.
He nods, picking up a tool, and starts loosening pieces on it.
I ask questions, and he answers them, including me in on whatever he is doing. I learned more today than I think I ever knew about cars in my entire life.
“Ok, so tell me what the…turbo does?” he asks. I’ve been having him quiz me on the parts that we’ve been fixing.
He smiles at me as I press my hand to the part. I close my eyes, trying to get the part to tell me what it does, using osmosis or something.
My face scrunches as I try to remember what he told me. “It connects to the…exhaust and helps the car build boost so that it can go faster,” I say, far more confident than I should be.
“More or less,” He says. I smile big and fist-bump him.
