Читать книгу Unwanted Girl - MK Schiller - Страница 16

Nick’s routine didn’t change. He jogged every morning, purchased a single white rose, dropped to his knees in front of Jenny’s grave, and attended meetings. But the cursor no longer mocked, and the vacant, blank pages rapidly colored themselves in meticulous eleven-point font. The hours between nine and midnight became his time with her. She didn’t belong to him, but that time with her did. Nick grew happier as the world shifted, a slow thaw melting away the last of the cold, bathing the dismal skies with precious light. “I brought you a plant,” she said, handing him a pot of dirt with a sprig of green sticking out of it. Nick regarded the peculiar object, holding it at an angle.

Shyla laughed and took it from him. “It won’t bite. I thought you could use something stimulating.”

“That’s why I have you.”

Nick loved her voice, but perhaps her laugh was even lovelier. Careful, Dorsey, he warned himself for the umpteenth time since she’d entered his life. All of his concerns manifested in a millisecond, souring his good mood. She drinks juice boxes. She’s too innocent for you. You’re too different. She’s leaving soon. You’ll fuck her up. Why? Because you’re a fuck up, that’s why. He silenced the jerky ping-pong match going on in his head and focused his attention on her.

She set the plant on the table. He helped her with her coat, as was his habit. She no longer acted surprised, but she did always smile gratefully. Today, her jeans were fitted, showing off the perfect curve of her hipbones. Nick allowed himself a few solitary seconds to take her in. Although she wore a simple black T-shirt, her breasts and waist were proportionate to perfection.

She came out with a cup of water and slowly fed the potted foliage. He liked how comfortable she was in his home. It had taken a while to get to this place.

“Thank you for the plant.” He made a note to buy more. After all, the surplus of air became dangerously low when she stood too close to him. Anything that expelled oxygen and purified his dirty thoughts would be a necessity at this point.

“You’re welcome. Happy spring,” she said as if it was a holiday, then Nick realized based on what they wrote, it was a holiday for her.

“Happy Holi, Shyla.”

“Thank you, Nick.”

He set up their meal and took the chair opposite her. “I’m getting tired of sandwiches.”

“We could order a pizza again or Chinese.”

Wisps of her hair fell around her face. She pushed them back with annoyance. The gesture both provoked and amused him. In the brief moment, all his previous reservations collapsed like a bad poker hand—folded but not forgotten. “I’d like to ask you out…on a date.”

“Oh,” she said with hesitation.

He sucked in a deep breath. Nice going, Dorsey. The meals they shared were simple, but to Nick, it was the best part of his routine day. He wondered if he had wagered away those hours because his dick wanted in on the conversation.

“I take it you don’t want to go out with me?” The man, who would have considered himself a failure if he didn’t sleep with a woman on the second date, cursed himself for moving too fast. Truthfully, he wasn’t that guy anymore, except when the remnants of the miserable man-whore still rose occasionally…figuratively and literally.

She bit her bottom lip. “It’s not that.” She took a deep breath. “I assumed we were dating.”

Nick repeated her words in his head, a flood of relief and confusion battling to clarify her statement. “You think we’re dating?”

She popped a cherry tomato in her mouth. Nick waited patiently for her to chew, all the while annoyed by cherry tomatoes, specifically the time it took to eat one. “Well, yes. We eat together almost every night. Sometimes we talk or write. Last week we watched a movie. Aren’t we dating?”

“Technically, I suppose, but I would describe what we are doing as hanging out. I want to take you somewhere nice—a place where they have dim lighting, expensive food, and candles. I want to laugh with you under the stars, maybe slow dance with you, and then take you home and kiss you good-night at your doorstep.”

She smiled, a cute lopsided grin, which made Nick’s mouth curve in response. “I don’t know how to slow dance.”

“I have so much to teach you.”

She bit her lower lip, her eyes darting to the kitchen. “Do you ever use that room for anything besides brewing gourmet coffee?”

He looked over at the open space that housed a set of matching stainless steel appliances and a one-of-a-kind concrete countertop as if he was noticing it for the first time. “Sure, it’s a great place to store chips and cereal.”

“Don’t you ever cook?”

“I think of that area as a very fancy art installation. I can heat up soup, boil water, and fry some eggs. Unfortunately, that’s my entire arsenal of self-made meals.”

“What if I made you dinner?”

“That would be very nice.”

“Do you like Indian food?”

For a brief moment, Nick considered lying, but it passed quickly. “No.”

“You don’t like Indian at all?”

“I like the people, especially this one particular girl.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll make you something you’ll enjoy.”

“I would like that.”

“I don’t work tomorrow. I can come earlier, and we can eat around the same time.”

“I can’t wait.”

“I guess tomorrow night will be our first date then.”

He leaned across the table. “Has anyone ever taken you on a date?”

Her posture became rigid before she blurted, “Sure, Elaine set me up with her brother’s boyfriend once.”

Nick’s mouth gaped. “Come again?”

She inhaled a deep breath. “Shucks, I meant to say her boyfriend’s brother.”

“Yeah, it takes on a much different meaning the other way.” He jerked his head around to face her. “Did you just say ‘shucks’?”

“Hey, you made me watch the pasta western. They used that word a lot. Did I say it wrong?”

“It’s referred to as a spaghetti western, but you did use the word in one of its correct contexts. It’s just not something that’s used very often, and it sounds strange coming from you.”

“Because everyone else would say the other words?”

“What other words?” His lips twitched into a devious grin, and she gave him a look he described as I know what you’re doing, Dorsey.

“You know…the one you would say.”

“You mean shit or fuck?”

“Yes, those words. But shucks is perfect. It combines both of them, yet it’s not a swear word.”

“Does swearing bother you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve lived here almost four years. It doesn’t bother me. There’s many ways to color a language. People swore in the village, too. I’m trying not to fall into the habit. I will be teaching children in the near future, after all.” And with that last sentence, his doubts surfaced again. She would be teaching…in India. She might as well be on the moon.

She nibbled on a slice of cucumber. She always seemed to be picking at food. The girl ate like a bird. He thought about remarking on it, but he knew better. Never comment on a woman’s diet or her weight. Rules to live by.

“What are the other meanings for shucks?” she asked.

“It has many definitions. It can be a husk on the outer layer of corn. Or it can mean worthless.” She gave him a questioning look so he offered an example, dropping his voice slightly. “Like I don’t give a shucks about what we do as long as we do it together.” Her face flushed slightly, her smile turning suggestive. Encouraged, he dropped his voice a few octaves more. Test the water, Dorsey, but don’t fucking dive in! “Or it could mean to discard.”

“Discard?”

“As in peel off. For example, she shucked off her black T-shirt in a hurry.” His feet dipped into the complicated waters he’d avoided, waters that could heat up to boiling point if they kept creeping down this dangerous path.

“I see. So if I said, do you mind if we don’t shuck tonight, that would be a proper use?”

Nick opened his mouth to respond, to try to eat up the words already spilling out into the atmosphere, but she held up her hand, and her lips parted slightly. “But I hope we do shuck one day.”

Naughty girl.

He didn’t have to worry about diving in. She’d just pushed him. “That’s not the right way, but who the hell cares? Words are flexible. They can bend, contort, twist.” Ironically, he’d just described many of the same things he wanted to do with her. He stood and stretched. “I was wrong.”

“About what?”

“You are not a shy girl.”

“What am I?”

“It’s probably better I stop trying to define you.” No definition…only discovery.

“I am shy, but not with you. I’m not fragile. I won’t wilt.”

“I know.” He stood up and cleared their plates. “Unfortunately, the plant you bought me may not be as lucky.”