Essentialism (Bridgette & Troy's Story) (3 page)

“Of course, are you?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Listen, I gotta run. Cara’s bringing groceries in and needs my help.”

“Behave, Bridgette.”

I hang up completely and utterly…frustrated. Where did that come from? One second he doesn’t recognize my voice, then he’s sweet and misses me, then he’s being possessive and telling me to
behave
. I thought we’d moved passed the controlling shit the other night after I walked out on him at dinner. Irritated, I push away all thoughts of him and focus on hanging out with Cara. She needs my help and I want to be there to help her any way I can.

Walking into the house, her iPod is blasting and she is feverishly working away in the kitchen. I turn it down and look over her shoulder. “Whatcha making?” I ask.

“A cake. Thank God you’re here.”

I bust out laughing at her when I see she has flour on her face and looks exhausted. “I’m all yours, but you have to tell me what has you in such a tizzy.”

“It’s Matt’s birthday and Abel forgot to tell me about it. The poor guy doesn’t have any family here, so Abel agreed to have a party for him at the station and asked me to cook. When Abel asked what he wanted for his birthday, the only thing he said he wanted was a cake like his mom used to make.”

“That’s not a big deal. We can totally do this.”

“Bridgette, there are going to be almost twenty firefighters there.”

“It’s okay. Take a deep breath. Let me change and I’ll help you.”

She nods her head and I go into my room unzipping my dress and stepping out of it. I grab a pair of jean shorts and go in search of a tank top in my dresser. My phone interrupts me, like it always does.

I hear I get to see you tonight. Now I have something to look forward to.

That you do, although I might be cooking, I’ll be there.

Works for me, I’m glad we’ll get to talk more. I’m at the liquor store now, do you want me to grab you anything?

A bottle of Tuaca! LOL.

That’s my kind of girl. See you soon.

I was joking,
I text back, but I get no response. Oh well, there’s nothing wrong with taking a shot. Or two. Or three.

“All right, girl. How can I help?” I ask Cara.

“Can you wash and cut all the veggies?”

“Sure thing. What are we making?”

“Italian subs. I’ve made them for the guys before and they
loved
them, especially Matt.”

“Why don’t we set everything out buffet style and let them add what they want to their subs? It would be easier on us and that way everyone gets what they want.”

“You’re a genius.”

“Nah, just thinking outside the box.”

Cara and I work feverishly in the kitchen preparing all the fixings for the sandwiches. Then I watch her decorate the cake. She really is quite talented at it, not to mention her writing is perfect and looks professional. After we load everything into the shiny new white Tesla my brother-in-law, Vincent, bought for her, she drives us to the station. Glancing at my phone, I see a text from Troy. I open it to see he sent me a picture of the Tuaca bottle and two shot glasses. “What’s that?” Cara asks as we approach a stoplight, glancing over.

I show it to her. “Troy sent it to me.”

“So you’ve been texting him?”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know about David?”

I shake my head unable to speak the words. I hate lying. “Are you going to tell him?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I mean, should I? Troy and I are only friends. I don’t see the point of telling one about the other.”

“You sure that’s a smart move, girl? I’d be worried that it would come back to bite me in the ass.”

“Ugh, that would be awful,” I say and glance out the window hoping she’s not right.

Pulling up to the station, there are a ton of vehicles. A good amount of people are standing around outside watching a group of guys playing basketball. As I get out of the car, I can’t help but join in on the gawking. I lean back watching the sweaty men battle back and forth. I don’t recognize any of them except for Abel. He sees us and shoots the ball, scoring.

“God, isn’t he so yummy?” Cara says, as she slides up next to me and leans against her car watching the show. Abel jogs away from the game and Cara immediately goes towards him. I continue staring, but am pulled out of my daydream by Troy saying, “I don’t know what’s so interesting over there, considering I’m not in the game and all.”

I can’t help but laugh at him. “I was just looking for you.”

“Sure you were. Come give me a hug, you naughty, little thing.” He wraps his arms around me and instinctively I cling to him, resting my head on his chest. “You know, you really are small,” he says looking down at me.

I look up into his mesmerizing eyes and respond, “You know, you’re really tall.” He’s wearing a hat, but I can still see his brown hair. It’s normally a mess and I would love to feel it in my fingers.

“Eh, I’ve been told that in my day.”

“In your day? How old are you?”

“Twenty-six. How ‘bout you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“See, I do have you by a few years. So I can say ‘in my day.’”

I slap his chest and he releases me placing his hand over the place I hit. “Did you really just hit me? You’ve got some anger issues, girl.”

“I don’t have anger issues; you’re the one—”

Cara and Abel interrupt our banter and look between us. We each point at the other placing the blame on one another. “All righty,” Cara says. “Let’s get all this food inside and feed these beasts.”

She pops the trunk open and the guys grab everything, taking it inside. Cara and I walk behind and she asks me, “What was all that about?”

“He was being annoying. I was only picking on him.”

“Uh-huh,” she says rolling her eyes.

I ignore her comment and focus on getting everything set up. As we empty all the bags and work together getting the food laid out, I can’t keep my eyes off of Troy, and every time I look at him he is looking at me. Finally, I move to the opposite counter and start slicing the bread. This way my eyes can only stare at the wall in front of me. I turn my focus onto deep-breathing exercises for a distraction. That is until I feel Troy behind me. I look to my left and he is reaching in a cabinet above me, pressing his pelvis into my behind. I can’t help but smile as he squeezes my hip before he turns around and works at the island. Great, there is no hope in calming my erratic breathing now.

Fuck. My finger.

I yelp in pain and stick it in my mouth. “Are you okay?” Cara asks.

I nod my head as I fight back the tears.
It hurts so bad.
I can feel my pulse throbbing in the tip of it. I decide to take it out of my mouth and I wish I hadn’t. Blood runs down my finger and Troy grabs a towel.

“All right, let’s get it wrapped up. You need to keep pressure on it to stop the bleeding.”

“Mmm-hmm,” I say nodding my head.

“Troy, why don’t you take her downstairs and clean her finger up,” Abel says.

“Of course. Follow me, Bridge, and I’ll fix you up.” I smile and follow him downstairs. “Normally, I would take you down the pole, but seeing as you’re injured, that’s going to have to wait ‘til next time.”

“Thanks.”

As we get downstairs, Troy directs me to sit on a bench between the ambulance and fire truck while he grabs what he needs out of a supply cabinet. “Are you okay?” he asks me.

“Yeah. It just hurts.”

“I’m sure it does. This isn’t going to feel any better. Let me look at it; I won’t do anything without telling you first, okay?”

Removing the towel, I place my hand in his. He looks at the wound and then at me. “Jesus, Bridge, that’s a deep cut. No wonder it hurts.”

“I can’t look at it.”

“That’s okay. I’m going to pour some peroxide on it. This may sting a little, but not for long.”

“I trust you,” I say and feel the cool liquid run over my finger. Then he gently pats it dry.

“You probably could use a stitch or two, but if you can keep it dry I can use surgical glue instead.”

“Whatever you think is fine with me.”

“It’s gonna burn, so take my hand, I want you to squeeze the shit out of it.”

I glance at him as he places my hand in his lap. Instantly my finger begins to burn when he starts to apply glue.
Sonofabitch, it fucking hurts.
I bite my bottom lip and squeeze his hand as hard as I can. After a few moments, the pain subsides, soothed by him blowing on it. I look at him and watch the care he takes with repairing my injured finger.

“Are you this good with all of your patients?” I ask.

“Nope, only you.”

I glance at my finger. The cut is closed and the bleeding has stopped. I watch as he applies another coat and blows again, this time he looks into my eyes. After a minute he rubs my finger on his bottom lip and then tenderly kisses it. All the while his eyes never leave mine. I realize then that we’re still holding hands as he intertwines our fingers.

My heart is pounding and my mouth is dry with wantonness. “Bridge, are you okay?” Cara asks as she comes down the wooden stairs with her heels clanking.

Troy places one more kiss on my finger before letting go of both of my hands. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say to her as she rounds the corner and comes into view.

“Nothing a little surgical glue couldn’t fix,” Troy says as he wraps a Hello Kitty Band-Aid around my wounded finger.

“Seriously, Troy?” I ask.

“What? It’s all we have.”

“That’s such a lie; there are other Band-Aids right there.” I point into the first aid kit he’s closing.

“Now you are going delusional, woman. Let’s get you some food and I believe you ordered Tuaca for tonight.”

We all laugh and head upstairs. I can’t help but smile looking at the pink Band-Aid covering my finger. And then thinking of his lips, when they delicately kissed my finger, and the look in his eyes – there’s something about that look. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it’s there.

“Troy, maybe you should just carry her to the car,” Cara says, as I try to focus on looking between the two of them.

“I’m fine,” I interject and push myself off of the kitchen counter. As soon as I move, I regret it, losing my balance. Troy steadies me.

“You, my lady, are most definitely
not
fine. Hop on,” he says and turns his back to me.

I hesitate for half a second and then wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his body. As he stands, I can’t help noticing how hard his muscles are, and how his warm hands wrapped so possessively around the sensitive skin of my thighs feels…so right.

“Hold on tight, Bridge.”

“I told you I’m fine,” I argue back, resting my cheek on his back as we begin to move. Each stair bounces us and he carries me as if I’m weightless.

We make it down before Cara and Abel. They’re still at the top of the stairs wrapped up in one another. Approaching Cara’s car, Troy sets me down and then stands turning to look at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.

I nod my head, feeling everything begin to spin.
Focus, Bridgette.
“Thank you for the ride.”

“The first one’s free, but I’ll have to charge you next time,” he jokes.

“How much?” I slur, trying to concentrate on his face.

“Let’s get to next time and I’ll tell you,” he says pulling me into a tight bear hug. I breathe him in and sigh heavily. Mixed emotions run through me; unbidden, David pops in my mind. I haven’t thought about him all night, why now?

Cara approaches the car and unlocks it. Troy opens the passenger door and I plop down. He leans his head on his forearm and looks at me. “Buckle up,” he orders.

I glare at him and reach for the belt, fumbling to get it clicked. Chuckling, he leans over me and clicks it in place. I swat at him and say, “I told you I’m fine.”

“I know you are, but safety first. Good night, Bridge,” he says inches from my face and kisses my forehead, leaving me stunned – speechless.

My door closes and Cara starts the car. “Oh, girl, you’re playing with fire.”

I place my head in my hands; she’s so right. “Cara, tell me what to do.”

“I wish I could, but I can’t. What I do know is someone is going to end up hurt. You need to decide if you want that to be Troy or David.”

I contemplate Cara’s words. As much as I don’t want to believe her, I know she’s right. Closing my eyes, I let the alcohol set in and drift off to sleep; it feels better than beating myself up.