Blind Kiss(23)

When I looked at Gavin, I knew he’d give me that explosive, mind-blowing kind of experience in the backseat of his old car. I knew he could light me up. He’d be professing his love for me by the end of the night, and then the next week he’d be onto the next, telling her how his palm tattoo was an impulse purchase.

“Penny? Are you listening? What’s going on? Where’d you go?”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.”

“So I moved back in with my dad in Fort Collins after leaving my mom in Hollywood. I saw enough of that place and enough of my mom for a good two years. She’s come out to visit twice since then, but she’s all swept up in her noncareer career . . . and booze.”

He was really pouring his heart out to me, but I was still thinking about Kimber. I actually liked him and didn’t want to be just a tattoo on his palm with a weird story behind it. Maybe I liked him too much already. Too much, too soon. Explosive.

“Gavin, we’re going to be friends,” I blurted out.

Jerking his head back, he squinted at me and then smiled. “We are friends, Penny. Best friends, remember? That’s why I’m telling you my whole life story.”

“No, I mean, for the first time in so long, I’m having fun. I’d like to keep it that way.” I loved dancing but “fun” wasn’t the word I’d used to describe the feeling of moving across the stage.

“Yeah, we can keep things fun,” he said with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. I’d have to dodge his advances for a while, but eventually he’d get that I didn’t want more than this.

I was officially buzzed and suddenly feeling anxious about overeating. Gavin reached over and grabbed my hand. “You’re a really beautiful girl and you have a perfect body. I hope no one has ever made you feel otherwise.”

He knows exactly what to say.

“Thanks. . . . That’s really nice of you. Dance is just really competitive. And you don’t have to say that if—”

“I think you need to hear it.”

“You don’t know what I need. You just met me.”

“You need a friend,” he said.

My eyes started to water. I nodded. “I do.”

“I’ll be your friend, and . . . I’m going to take you to Ling’s party, okay? If you want me to stay in the car at your house, I will. If you want me to wait outside of Ling’s party, I will. I just want to be there for you. And when we’re done hanging out today, I’ll be there for you tomorrow, if you need me. That’s friendship.”

“So we’ll be friends? You’re not asking for more?”

“Yep. You know where to find me.” He gestured toward me. “And I know where to find you.”

Tied up in a nice little bow. I reached up, threw my stinky arms around him, and hugged him like I had known him my whole life.





9. Nine Months Ago


PENNY

It had been two days since I’d heard from Gavin after he stopped by to tell me his dad was sick. Pasta sauce was cooking on the stove for dinner, and Milo was upstairs playing video games when my husband came home from his two-day business trip.

“Hey, you,” he said. He walked up and kissed me on the cheek. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” I said as I set down a spoon to give him a proper hug. He held me longer than usual.

“So, Gavin’s in town. I saw his car in his dad’s driveway.”

“I know,” I said. “He came by here on Tuesday. His dad is sick. Stage four prostate cancer.” I started getting choked up.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that.” He was being totally sincere. We all loved Gavin’s dad, Frank. “Should we take some food over to them? Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ll text him and take them a couple of plates. I was going to see Frank anyway. Milo misses you, so you guys should probably catch up.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

I didn’t text Gavin, though, because I felt like he would say no. He didn’t like me cooking for him. He thought it was too weird. I understood why. I made him avocado toast once and he looked at it for five minutes before taking a bite. When I had asked him what was on his mind, he’d said, “I was just thinking about what it would be like.”

“How what would be like?” I had asked.

“If you and I had ended up together.”

“Well, I’d expect you to pull your weight around here. It wouldn’t be me serving you all the time. Count this as your Christmas present.” It was July when I had told him that.

He laughed and said, “I don’t want you cooking for me okay, P? Not even toast. Can you respect that?”

I did respect it. But this was a different situation. His dad was dying.

After I ate with my family, I made two plates out of the leftovers, threw on a jacket, and headed over to Frank’s. Gavin’s car was there and I could hear him on the porch, softly playing the guitar. Was it our song? His back was to me as I approached. The music stopped.

“Hey, P.”

I walked up the steps to where he was sitting in the swing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Because your ankles crack so damn loud when you walk. Your knees, too. I could hear you coming from four houses away.”