Wait for It

by Mariana Zapata

if being nice doesn’t work, que todos se vayan a la fregada.

Josh was too sleepy to notice that I was grumpy, and Louie, well, who the hell knew what was going through that kid’s head. The last time I asked him what he was thinking about, he’d said “buttholes.” Since then, I kept that question to myself.

“I think a bug flew into my mouth, Goo. I’m all right.” He winced. “I hate it when they do that. They don’t taste like chicken.” What the hell?

“Since we’re good, can I ask why you have Pop-Tarts in your back pocket?”

“We don’t usually pray, but if you want to…” Miss Pearl guffawed. “Us neither. Amen.”

Real love was gritty. The real kind of love never quit. Someone who loved you would do what’s best for you; they’d stand up for you and sacrifice. Someone who loved you would face any inconvenience willingly. You didn’t know what love was until someone was willing to give up what they loved the most for you. But it was also never letting them make that choice, either.

The tips of his tennis shoes inched closer to me, his hands squeezing my shoulders as he said in a whisper, “I’m gonna hug you as long as you promise not to grab my ass, okay?”

A year ago, back when we’d shared one bathroom, I’d accidentally walked in on Josh. He’d been buck naked and had yelled like I’d gone in there to kill him, screaming with two hands covering his privates, “Don’t look at my nuggets!” As if I hadn’t seen his little pistachios a thousand times before.

“I have to put this stuff on you and wait ten minutes before you can shower. So get naked, you dirty monkeys.” Louie groaned, “But I took a bath yesterday.” While the other one—God help me—yelled, “You’re a pervert!”

“Reading glasses. I’m farsighted.” Reading glasses? More like sexy glasses. God help me.

He was combing things out of my hair. We were pretty much BFFs by this point.

“I’m waiting until the divorce is official. I’ve never gone back on my word or my vows, even with someone who didn’t deserve it. I’d want that person I end up with to know they don’t ever have to doubt me.” I already hated this imaginary person. With a passion. I was going to pull the plug out of her tires.

“It’s like you’re purposely trying to get me to love you, Dallas. I swear to God. You don’t even want me to stick my hand down your pants. You want me to want it all,” I laughed, trying to make a joke but failing awfully.

“Did it happen getting the cat?” Him and the fucking cat. Jesus. “Why do you hate the cat so much? And no, Dr. Evil, it didn’t happen then.”

God help me. The view was even better the second time around. Was I going to go out there specifically to catch an up-close look of the details of the eagle’s wings? No way in hell. But was I going to go out there to offer him a glass of water despite the fact he could easily walk across the street to get a drink from his own house? I damn well was.

There was no harm in using my eyeballs on him. Repeatedly. I just wouldn’t look at his butt or junk. That was crossing the line. Anything from the waist above was fair game, I reasoned.

“I’ve seen you in your underwear and combed nits out of your hair, baby. I think we’re past that.” I focused on one thing and one thing only. Baby? Me? I was still thinking about his word choice when he asked, “How’s your hand?” What hand? There was something wrong with my hand? “Your burned hand,” he said, raising both his eyebrows, a slight smile playing at his lips. Jesus Christ. I’d lost it.

I did not like this man as more than a friend. A passing acquaintance. He was just a nice guy and it made perfect sense to admire someone with his type of loyalty. I did not like him. I didn’t. And I sure as hell wasn’t falling in love with him a little. No way. While I was busy repeating to myself that, yes, I thought he was super-hot, and yes, his heart might be made of the finest silver in the land, but there were plenty of men like that in the world. I didn’t even believe myself.

“Anything for you.” Oh my God. Why was he doing this to me? Why? Why? He wasn’t the type of person to string someone else along for the fun of it. I knew that. But why did he have to be so nice? And why did I have to be so fucking dumb? Fuck me.

He reached up toward me and brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek, still smiling wide, and pinched my chin. “You’re fucking nuts.” All I did was shrug again. “You know that, but you’re still here, aren’t you?” His smile melted into a smaller one, and the deep breath he let out made it seem like it had weighed a thousand pounds. Then his fingers brushed over my cheek again, and Dallas moved to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His voice was soft. “I’m still here, Peach.”

He was still watching me as he whispered just loud enough for me to hear, “My hand is just as good as any other.” God help me. God help me. God help me. God help me.

“I want you. I want your smile. Your hugs. Your love. I want your happiness.” He paused. “Every single thing.”

“He looks out the window to check on you every night. I tell him to call you and quit being a stalker, but he thinks I’m going to listen in on his conversations.” She huffed. “I have better things to do with my time.”

“One day when you’re way older, you’re going to get a girlfriend and I’m going to want to kill the little b-i-t-c-h. I’m going to hate her guts. But you know what? I know at the end of the day, I’m still going to be your number one girl.” “Why?” he asked. “Because she will never know what it’s like to have put a thermometer in your butt.”

“I always thought you looked like mine, but you sure do fucking feel like you’re mine, too,”

I sniffled, and what did he do? He laughed. “When you’re old, I’ll hold your hand when we cross the street. I’ll help you put on your socks,” he promised. I started laughing, even as tears came into my eyes. “What if I have to help you put on socks?” “Then you’ll help me put on socks. And if I’m in a wheelchair and you’re not, I’ll give you a ride.”

His eyes flicked down to mine as he settled the pink material over the hair I’d left down and curled. “I made you a cap.” And he smiled as he said it, his palms curving downward to cup my cheeks. All I could do was blink. “Pink like Princess Peach.” I swallowed, hard. “If you’re trying to get laid, we have to wait until everyone leaves,” I whispered.