13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

~ Tiffany ~

T he following day, with my body sore in places it hadn't been before but a smile still on my face, Heath told me to get dressed up because he was taking me to dinner.Not dressed up in the teal dress, but something nicer than my jeans or leggings. So, I opted for a peach dress with subtle make-up; something that was still me.

Personally, I didn't think it was fair, but when we walked into the restaurant with the low lighting, soft classical music on the speakers, and candles at every table, I could see this was fancier than what I was used to.

"Devon, please," Heath told the young woman at the front podium.

"Right this way sir," she said, grabbing two menus and escorting us back to a table in the far back corner. "Enjoy your meal. Shawn will be your waiter and he will be right over."

"Thank you," I said, smiling at her and then smiling at Heath as he held out my chair for me. "So," I started, opening my menu and looking at it, trying not to freak out over the prices. "Wow."

"Stop." I looked at him over my menu, a brow raised in question. "The prices. It's not a big thing. And it's my treat, anyway."

"One, I'm not with you for your money, you know that right?" At his nod, I smirked. "Good.I'm with you for your hot ass tattoos, your amazing, good looks, and your huge ass capability to give me phenomenal orgasms."

"That's it?"

"And, okay, because you can sing me to sleep and not even know it." I returned his grin, loving the teasing nature we seemed to have adopted. I never would have thought that Heath had a humor like this buried within him. It sure never came out when Jameson was on stage directing us. Nor did I think it would, given that at that time, it was business. But I still couldn't understand how someone could walk away from him when he was this sweet and loving. Unless they never got to see this side. And if that was the case, it was an utter tragedy.

"You're lost in thought," he murmured.

"Not really. Just thinking about you. How awesome I think you are."

He sat his menu down and crossed his arms, resting them on the table.

"You know, you always seem to go into silence and when I bring you back, you seem focused on me. Why is that?"

"I share far too many secrets with you, thank you very much." We both chuckled as the waiter came over to take our drink order.

"A bottle of your best white, please." I rolled my eyes at him, making him smirk."I told you I would have you try some of the best and you'd like it."

"And that's fine. I'll try it, but I'm also not holding out promises. I'd like a SexOn The Beach please." The waiter wrote it down and then nodded before leaving."So, tell me, why do you go by Jameson?"

"My actual full name is Heath Scott-James Devon.My mom, who was Puerto Rican, wanted to give me a different name, but compromised with my dad on my middle name. That comes from an uncle while my dad, who is Irish, got to pick my first name. Hence, the half Puerto Rican and half Irish."

"That makes sense. I'm actually half Mexican and half Irish myself."

"Another thing in common, who would have figured?"

"And if I recall another odd tidbit, Heath, we're both the babies of the family." He laughed, then leaned back as the waiter put our drinks. I reached for mine while the waiter poured a glass and offered it to him to try. And I watched, fascinated as he swirled it, sniffed it, and then took a sip before nodding.

"Thank you," he said, once the waiter was done pouring him a glass. He offered it to me, and I took a deep breath, taking a small sip. The taste wasn't bad, far better than others I had, but there was still a bitter taste that I knew would bring on the headache. "No gohuh?"

"It's good, but nope." I handed him the glass back, wincing at the ache already forming, and lifted my glass. "I'll take this."

"When did you have your first drink?"

"I had my first sip of alcohol at twelve.Then my first actual drink at like seventeen at my aunt's party. However, I never got drunk until I was in my thirties."

"How did you manage to go through your twenties and not get rip-roaring drunk?"

I licked my lips as I thought about that answer.I was only thirty-three, still young enough. But I had grown up just above poor, struggling to afford things at times.So, early on in life, I was working, helping my single-parent mother. I wasn't out partying, trying to be something I wasn't. I was working, or dancing, practicing hard to get into the programs, classes, and schools I needed to.

That's where my strong work ethic came from.But that's also where my low-key and tomboy status took root. I didn't have material things growing up, didn't need them or like them, and it stuck into my adult years. Even though my apartment wasn't super fancy, it was enough for me. And though my clothes and heels were nice, they were bought at some of my favorite discount stores or what good buys I could find on clearance.

All the things he probably didn't understand now.Maybe when he was growing up, with a family his size and the age gap in his siblings. But now, now things for him consisted of buying the finer things in life, and I still saved my money.

"It wasn't me. I'm fine with a drink or two, but nothing crazy. It wasn't till I was out with my friends one night and it came up that I hadn't ever been drunk. Then Ricky took me to his house, where the party continued, and I got tore up from the floor up. Still not off of wine though."

"Something made you strong enough to not get into things like that."

"Just my life. My mom was a single parent,raising three of us. When I could help out, I did. I took all of that very seriously. It didn't leave much time forpartying."

"Or practicing makeup skills?"

I threw my napkin at him, making him laugh.

"I like light makeup, making it look more natural than all caked on. I have to look like a different woman for myjob and it's enough for me to hate it."

"Why don't you quit if you don't like what it makes you do?"

He was sincere in his question, and I knew that, I could feel that. But all I ever wanted to do, since I was a little girl, was dance. The last thing Iwanted to do, no matter how stupid some rules were to me, was give it up.

"I actually love what I do. I just don't always like the rules set forth. For the most part, some of the rules are dumb.Like looking like a different person."

"You know, I asked you a few times what your job is, and I think I have it figured out."

I couldn't help but raise my brow in question.The guilt of not speaking up was starting to get to me, and after Itexted Charlene last night, she told me I had to come clean. But we both agreed I was far past that point.

I mean, telling the truth, no matter when, was better than lying. I went to bed lastnight, body sore yet happy, but had thoughts running through my mind of whetherI was really any better than his exes.

"Okay, wise one, what do you think I do?"

"You're an exotic dancer. I mean, the way you rocked those hips yesterday. Dancers always have to look different, be different, so that no one sees them on the street, right?"

"It's kind of hot having an exotic dancer as my girlfriend."

"That'swhat I am? I don't believe a question was asked to confirm that?"

"Did I need to?"

I shook my head, taking another sip of my drink.Again, a rare and beautiful moment of teasing and picking on each other. I was going to miss this when the tour started. And honestly, I had nodamn clue how I was going to make this work.Sure, we weren't all on the same bus, but it didn't matter. Charlene was right when she said I couldn'ttext him when I was sitting right next to him.

"Different when I'm with you, Tiff. You make me feel things I haven't in a really long time. And you don't care about Jameson, just just. And that feels fucking amazing. I don't want to lose what we have."

Knife meet heart.

Why did he have to say that? Now I felt even more like shit. Okay, this was getting just too far out of hand. I needed to speak up.

Except, I couldn't. Nothing was coming out. I opened my mouth, but the words that should have tumbled out didn't.

Instead, all that seemed to come out was, "you mean more to me than I thought you would too, Heath. The things I've told you, no one else knows."

He grinned at me from across the table and even though there was a nine-inch bladestabbed in my heart, I returned his grin.

"Why don't you come on tour with me? At least for a few days."

Shit. Now the knife was twisted with no hope of me bringing it out. What the hell did I say to that? How could I lie?

Now, it was evident. I wasn't different than his exes, not one little fucking bit.