Birthday Girl

I press the stones onto the step with my pick and grab the glue, squeezing it into the crevice to fasten the pieces to the model. I feel an urge to glance at the clock on the microwave again, but I refrain, knowing it hasn’t been more than two minutes since the last time I checked.

It’s after six, and Pike is late. He’s hardly ever late.

As the minutes go by, though, I feel my temper rise, because he hasn’t called, either, and he specifically asked me to be home. This isn’t like him, but it’s damn-well like every other guy I’ve known. I’m that girl they can treat like garbage and make wait, because I take it.

For a while, anyway.

The pizza I ordered, half pepperoni and half taco, was delivered an hour ago and is keeping warm in the oven, while my salad is in the fridge, staying chilled. The Lost Boys, continuing our 80’s horror movie marathon, is on the TV, ready to play, and I’m alone.

Again.

Okay. He could be in the middle of something, still at work. Understandable, and I’m an adult. I don’t need my hand held. He could’ve also been in an accident, but that’s extreme, and I don’t want to be that girl who calls, either. He’ll think I’m…getting attached or something.

I glue the glass balls onto the bed of what will soon be the stream, letting the minutes tick away his chances as I sit there, wait, and get angrier.

The day has been so great. I woke up sore but hardly even noticing, because the memories of last night had me blushing constantly. He was not out of practice at all, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I cleaned up the broken lamp and fixed the nightstand again.

And cleaned the remnants of the A&W cup out of the washing machine from when I dumped the ice cream float in it last night. Thank God he didn’t find out about that or he’d change his opinion on whether or not I’m an adult.

After tidying up the house, I really didn’t want to wash off his smell, but I desperately needed a shower. I cleaned myself up, and then I called Cam and borrowed her car to go get my paycheck at Grounders and run a few errands. I got sideways looks from my sister and Shel, both probably wondering why I’m practically fucking skipping around everywhere, but I didn’t care.

Because in a few hours, his eyes were going to be on me again, and I really love when his eyes are on me. Maybe we’d go swimming tonight or throw some pillows and blankets into the back of the truck to go make-out somewhere. Or maybe I’d pick a fight, so he’d bend me over the kitchen table for another spanking.

Stupid. Fantasies and expectations that never measure up in reality. I should know better. Here I am, sitting here waiting for whenever he happens to show up, ready to be at his beck and call.

After a while, I pick up my phone again, checking to see if I have any messages.

Still nothing.

I look at the time, and it’s nearly seven now. Two hours late.

He’d know I was expecting him. If he didn’t call, then maybe something did happen.

I dial him, about to feel either really pathetic if he’s not sitting in the ER right now or really bad about all my doubts if he is.

The call goes to voicemail, though, and I hang up, hesitating only a moment before I get up and walk to the refrigerator, drawing my finger down Pike’s list of contacts. I see Dutch’s number and dial it, thinking of something to say that won’t make me seem desperate.

The line rings three times before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dutch,” I say quickly, adding some pep to my voice. “It’s Jordan. Sorry to bother you. I know Pike doesn’t always keep his phone on him and thought you would. I’m about to leave for work, and I lost my key to the house.” I lick my dry lips, my heart hammering. “Are you all about done at the site? I didn’t know when Pike would be home and didn’t want to just leave the door unlocked.”

“Oh, we closed up shop two hours ago, honey,” he tells me. “I’m home already, and he went with the guys for a beer at Poor Red’s. I’m sure if you call him he’ll run home and lock up.”

My throat constricts and tears burn.

He went out.

I force a tight smile, hoping it disguises the anger inside “Yeah. Will do. Thank you.”

I hang up and close my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. He went out. Without even letting me know. He just left me sitting here.

I blink away the burn, refusing to be hurt. I cared about him, and I fucked him. But I don’t love him, and he clearly doesn’t give a shit. He got what he wanted.

All that possessiveness and a need to watch over me and protect me. It was just to keep me here, so he could get in my pants. He resisted me, because he felt bad, but he was simply biding time to talk himself into it. Taking me to bed was always the plan. Now that he’s had his piece of ass, the monkey is off his back, and hey, maybe April is at Red’s tonight, too, and they can pick up where they left off.

I growl, kicking a table chair.

This doesn’t happen to me. Not anymore. It ends now.

I hold up my phone and dial Cam, remembering what tonight is.

“Hey, what’s up?” she answers.

I curl my lips, feeling suddenly bold. “I feel like I want to see my first wet T-shirt contest.”

She gasps and then squeals into the phone. “Yes!”