The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs, #2)(37)

I can clearly tell Clarissa recorded behind a crack in Dante’s door while he tried his best to follow along on a Fortnite dance. A few seconds in, I damn near spit out my sandwich, watching him jerk his body while my own body tenses because I’m embarrassed for him. It’s painful. My kid has absolutely no rhythm. He’s got no chance of winning any female over with those dance skills.

Knowing she won’t see my text due to the late hour, I respond anyway. We’ve pretty much been avoiding each other since I made a total ass of myself on Halloween, and I consider the text an olive branch.



Troy: OMG, that’s hilarious. I feel like a dick for laughing, but the poor kid has no rhythm. Sad emoji.



To my surprise, she replies.



Clarissa: I’m just as guilty. Can you dance?

Troy: What are you doing awake?

Clarissa: I usually wake up once or twice at night, it started when he was a baby, and I’ve never really gotten back to a regular sleep pattern. It’s a mother’s curse. So, can you dance?

Troy: I’m no Fred Astaire, but I’ve definitely got rhythm. Especially when it’s important. Winky face emoji Clarissa: Ugh. Leave it to you to go there. Rolling eyes emoji.

Troy: My bad. Thanks for sharing the video. Our poor kid.

Clarissa: It’s so sad. I hate laughing at him, but it’s hysterical. Have you watched his others?

Troy: Yeah, it’s crazy how outspoken he is and totally different when he’s not on camera.

Clarissa: You think that’s something to be concerned about?



It hits me. She’s asking for advice or at least asking for my say about his well-being. It’s something.



Troy: Maybe he’s just more comfortable expressing himself on camera. I was shy when I was his age up until high school.

Clarissa: I can’t imagine that. Like at all.

Troy: It’s the truth. It might surprise you to know I had confidence issues. What about you?

Clarissa: I’m a pretty good dancer. I was on the drill team for a few years and then got bored. I had a healthy confidence growing up.

Clarissa: You there?

Troy: Trying not to picture you in tiny shorts kicking your legs up.

Clarissa: How’s that going?

Troy: I’m sporting a semi in the UPS break room, and I’m not alone.

Clarissa: You’re such a man.

Troy: Thank you. Want to send me a video of an old routine?

Clarissa: Goodnight.

Troy: Don’t go. I’ll behave.

Clarissa: I have to be up in three hours to teach American youth.

Troy: Do you like teaching?

Clarissa: Love it, but this level is hard. Hard to keep them interested.

Troy: I bet you’re a fantastic teacher. If I were your student, I’d sit up front.

Clarissa: Uh huh.

Troy: I would sharpen all your pencils for you.

Clarissa: Bang my erasers too?

Troy: Yep. Bring you an apple a day.

Clarissa: I hate apples.

Troy: How un-American.

Clarissa: Deal with it.

Troy: So, do you want me to try and teach him?

Clarissa: He won’t dance with me. Wouldn’t hurt to try.

Troy: That’s because you don’t listen to anything but old shit.

Clarissa: Don’t insult my tastes. I get my love for R&B and old soul from my mother.

Troy: How did she die? You never said.



When she doesn’t answer for a full minute, I know I’ve overstepped.



Troy: You don’t have to tell me.

Clarissa: Heroin overdose. I wasn’t there.



I read her text twice. It’s nothing I expected.



Troy: Jesus. I’m so sorry.

Clarissa: It was a long time ago.

Troy: Still, that had to suck growing up without a mom. I can’t imagine life without mine.

Clarissa: That’s why I’m so careful about my choices with Dante. I can’t help but be overly cautious. I won’t mix over the counter meds. I’ve never even hit a joint.

Troy: I get it.

Clarissa: Gross. Let’s change the subject before I look like more of a square.

Troy: You’re a square for saying square. And no one can fault you for being cautious.

Clarissa: I rarely tell anyone that’s how she died. I usually say heart attack.

Troy: What did you tell Brett?

Clarissa: Heart attack. I’ll be honest with him at some point, but he comes from a well-to-do family. I don’t know why I lied. It wasn’t my habit. I shouldn’t be ashamed.

Troy: No, you shouldn’t.

Clarissa: I better go to bed.

Troy: Yeah. I’ve still got four hours left and then school and practice.

Clarissa: You shouldn’t have been Batman for Halloween. You’re living more of a Superman kind of life.

Troy: From you, that’s one hell of a compliment.

Clarissa: Don’t run with it.

Troy: It’s late, and I’ve caught you slipping when you’re vulnerable. I won’t read too much into it.

Clarissa: Don’t go thinking I admire you.

Troy: I wouldn’t dare. Sweet dreams.

Clarissa: Goodnight.



I can’t help myself, I smile for the full four hours of the rest of my shift for two reasons, the first being my baby mama thinks I’m Superman, the other is the fact that she’s not telling her boyfriend the truth about her past, but she’s revealing it to me. Maybe I need to try harder for something between us. For years I’ve watched with longing to hold my son the way she holds him in her arms, but now, now I’m imagining holding them both in the same possessive way. I went off on her without ever giving her a chance to grasp anything I was trying to convey. How could she have taken any words I said seriously with my hard dick swinging between us? I let impulse win. It was an immature way of revealing how I feel, what I want, by trying to seduce her instead of showing her what I am truly hoping for, not another shot between her legs, but at her heart. She is exactly the type of woman I should invest myself in. I need not look any further.