17. Super Guy

SEVENTEEN

SUPER GUY

BAILEY

I snort, standing outside the bar, when tears fall down my face as Kris approaches. “There you are, Super Guy. Always the gentleman. Maybe I got your nickname wrong?”

“You think?”

“Sure.” I sway and bring my hand to my forehead, feeling like I might pass out, but he catches me in his arms.

“Let me get you home, Irish.”

Once we’re in his car, I don’t hold back the tears, regretting every moment of the argument with my friends. “What’s wrong with me? I should have been happy for Maggie. She found love again. Peter is a really nice guy. Probably nicer than any millionaire she’s dated. A little dorky, but you met him. He’s nice, right?”

“We talked for about sixty seconds, but from what I can tell, he’s a genuine, likable guy.”

“I hope Maggie knows what she’s doing.”

“They’ll be fine. It sounds like it’ll be awkward at work for a while, but the best thing you can do is love them, anyway.”

I hiccup, staring at him unbelievably. “Why are you so good to me?”

“Because you’re easy to be good to.”

With a deep breath and swipe of my face on the sleeves of my sweater, I try to pull myself together, probably smearing my makeup in the process.

“Can we get tacos? I’m hungry.” His new luxury car leathery smell only adds to my nauseousness, although I could eat a dozen tacos right now without a problem. Hopefully, food will soak up whatever is left in my system and erase this God awful taste from my mouth.

When he pulls to a stoplight a block away from Tacoholics, I let my head loll back against the seat, taking in his gorgeous profile. We lock eyes, his soft browns draw me in deeper, soothing me, but it’s a false sense of security. He’s so pretty. Way too pretty for a girl like me.

“Bailey. That’s not true,” he admonishes with a tsk and shake of his head as if he heard me say that out loud. Shit. He reaches a hand up and fingers a lock of my hair that has been annoyingly falling into my eyes all night. He pushes it behind my ear. His thumb traces my lips, so sultry, and he says, “You don’t know what just one look at you does to me.”

“The light is green,” I say. His head snaps forward, peering at it through the windshield. Only it’s still red, and I giggle. “Made you look.”

He smirks, and I hate I ruined the moment with a joke.

“Sorry, but I can’t be all sexy right now, not when my friends have been fucking behind my back, and you’re perfect Kris who has seen me throw up, and we’re in your luxury car where I hope I don’t expel whatever is left inside my stomach again before I can take one bite of a taco.” He makes me nervous in a good way if I let it. “You’ve seen me at my worst, and I’m totally embarrassed by it. You used to date Tia. I saw puck bunnies at the game tonight, as tiny as Tia.”

“Do you see me running away? No. I’m here in the car with you because this is exactly where I want to be. Now, do you want one taco or two or four? Doesn’t matter to me. I’m still going to be here by your side, eating just as many with you.”

We get the tacos through drive through, the bag of four warm on my lap, and I ease his seat back a little for more comfort. His fancy new car isn’t as comfy as mine, surprisingly. I guess not all things that come with a high price tag are worth it, so maybe Maggie and Peter make sense after all.

“With a baby on the way, and if they let me still let me be their friend, I’ll be Auntie Bailey,” I mumble.

“I hope you like kids.”

I cock my head. “I come from a huge family. You should see the amount of kids at weddings, funerals, and holidays. Don’t take this the wrong way since we’ve only begun to date, but while we’re on the subject, I only want one perfect child. Not six. Just one.”

“Just a perfect one. Got it. Thanks for the heads up.” He chuckles pulling into the parking garage. I finally unwrap my two tacos, holding one in each hand. I practically devour them, humming through the experience, letting the crumbs fall where they may

“What is it with you and cars, huh?” He chortles, watching me eat as we sit here. He doesn’t eat his after all, but the way he stares at my lips spells hungry to me. Or maybe it’s a look of disgust, considering I’m getting crumbs everywhere.

“Sorry,” I say through a mouthful of the last bite, brushing the crumbs off me onto the floor.

“No worries. I’ll schedule a detail tomorrow.”

“Of course you will. Can’t keep this fancy car a mess. I’m stuffed.” I should get out and go to my bed, but I don’t move, sleepy now and wishing his car would stop spinning. “Thanks for coming out with us. I hope it was kind of fun, despite the way it ended.”

“Why are you so upset about Peter and Maggie, anyway? They seem like they could be a nice couple together.”

“Because they betrayed my trust. They’re supposed to be my friends. How dare they find happiness with each other without telling me? Now they’ll be the sickeningly sweet couple in my cubicle instead of my friends that I can commiserate with about our love lives, or lack of them. It changes the entire dynamic at work. I don’t like it.”

“Hm.”

“What Hm? ”

“Did you used to have a crush on Peter?”

“No, and yuck. I mean, the guy is nice and cute, don’t get me wrong, but not my type?—”

“What is your type, then? And it’d better be the hot hockey player sitting to your left.” His hand finds its way to my thigh in the dark and squeezes.

“Oh, God.”

“No, I think you should say Oh, Kris. ” He leans closer to me for a kiss.

“No, I mean, oh, God, like I’m going to be sick again.”

“Fuck. Not in my car, you won’t.” He launches out of the vehicle.

“But I thought you said you could get it detailed?” I mumble through my hand clamped to my mouth as my door swings wide open. He swoops me out of the seat and carries me running toward the elevators.

“Some things are easier to clean up than others,” he explains. I can’t help but think he means it as a metaphor for me. I’m a mess, my life is a mess, and I can only hope he can clean me up good. As the elevator carries us up higher and higher, I pass out in his arms. Dreams come to me of Kris cleaning and doing laundry while I sleep in a big luxurious bed made of fluffy clouds.