Still, nothing.
From Graham, anyway. Parker had texted the day after the race and asked if I wanted to take his dad’s boat out and hang out on Pleasant Bay. He said he was feeling much better and felt that he needed to make up for the other day and show me a good time. And boating on Pleasant Bay actually sounded like fun, but I told him I was pretty busy working on my sculpture project for the next few days.
No worries, he wrote back, almost immediately. I’ll be in touch!
I sighed, wishing that it was Graham who was so prompt in responding and eager to hang out, not Parker.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Graham
Is this a booty call?
> That was what Francesca texted back to me when I asked her if she wanted to come by the shop.
Because if I remember correctly, my next appointment with u isn’t scheduled until next week.
I couldn’t think of anything witty to reply. I just wanted to have the kind of sex that didn’t involve a lot of talking or verbal foreplay.
Something like that, I wrote back.
I might be able to oblige u. Am actually in ur ‘hood. Be by soon.
I almost didn’t respond, but then typed a quick: OK.
I was at work. I was at work and there was always the possibility that a customer could walk in, though it was mid-afternoon and that was generally our slowest time. Even so, I didn’t actually give a shit. Besides, I was the boss here, so I could—within reason—do whatever I wanted. And right now, this was what I wanted to do.
A few minutes later, I heard the door open. I looked up, fully expecting it to be Francesca. It wasn’t though—it was Chloe.
She’d been texting me ever since the race and I hadn’t gotten back to her. Not because I was trying to play immature games or anything, but because I knew she’d want to talk, and try to explain this whole thing with Parker, and then I’d probably have to end up telling her that this summer was supposed to be about shit being drama-free and that just wasn’t happening so far.
“Hi,” she said, walking over to the counter. “I ... I was texting you but I hadn’t heard anything back. So I’m stopping by. Because I need to talk to you about something, and I wanted to do it in person.”
“Okay,” I said, because I wasn’t just going to demand she leave. I could at least hear her out. I just hoped that Francesca wasn’t going to show up while she was still here. “I’ll listen to whatever it is you have to say, but make it quick because I’ve got another customer coming any second.”
She took a deep breath, like she was about to start reciting something in front of a classroom. “Look,” she said. “I’m really sorry if it caught you off guard, seeing me at the race with Parker. Like I said, nothing has happened between us, and I guess I just really don’t know the rules for how you’re supposed to be when you’re seeing someone.” Her face started to get red. “But that’s just the thing—I didn’t know if we’re actually seeing each other. Like, I know we’re sleeping together but ... but what else does that mean?”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but it really doesn’t have to mean anything. As in, it’s fine if you want to hang out with Parker, or whoever you want.”
“It’s just so confusing.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
The thing was—she was right, it was confusing, but we were confused for different reasons. I just wasn’t used to feeling like this toward someone, and it kind of scared me, not that I would ever actually admit that out loud. It wasn’t just that Chloe was attractive—I’d been with plenty of hot girls before and hadn’t had feelings like this. It was more like I wanted to be with her, not just for sex, but because I liked being around her. Some guys might welcome that sort of feeling, but for me it was foreign, completely unexpected, and not entirely comfortable. In other words, something that I just didn’t want to deal with right now.
So, I tuned her out. She was still talking, and I was standing there, looking at her, nodding every once in a while, but I wasn’t actually hearing any of what she was saying.
And then I saw Francesca pull up and park, right out front of the shop. She came breezing in, a big smile on her face. She was wearing an incredibly short pair of shorts, showing off those long, muscular legs of hers, and a black tank top that was just short enough to show off the thinnest strip of her toned midriff.
“Hey there, handsome,” she said. “I’m so glad you changed your mind.” She looked at Chloe. “I’ll just wait in your office until you’re done with your customer.” She sauntered off, and though she didn’t say exactly why it was she was there, it was pretty clear.
Chloe watched her go, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. “Who’s that?” she asked softly.
“That? No one. She’s a customer. And a friend of mine.”
“Oh.” She nodded slowly, biting at her lower lip. She kept looking toward the back, as though she was expecting Francesca to reappear and explain exactly who she was to me. “I think I’ll go.”
There was a part of me that wanted to stop her, that wanted to tell her that it wasn’t what she thought it was—even if it kind of was. But I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and watched her walk out of the shop, and even when she turned and looked at me as the door was closing behind her, I still didn’t say anything. Francesca was out back in my office, waiting for me, and Chloe was walking out, after telling me she was sorry. And here I was, standing in the middle of it, feeling like shit.