Rock Chick 07 Regret (13 page)

“Sadie –” Hector started.

“Am I going to get help with this
guac
or what?” Buddy shouted from the kitchen.

I took a deep breath and looked up at Hector. “I need to go
smush
avocado,” I told him, feeling like an idiot.

At my words he smiled at me, slow, amused and glamorous and I didn’t feel like an idiot anymore.

* * * * *

It happened after nachos and beer. After Veronica got roughed up by the evil Fitzpatrick clan at the pool hall. After I took the nacho platter and plates back to the kitchen and came back with more beer for everyone. After, when I came back, I saw that Ralphie had affected a seating jumble which meant Buddy was in the armchair where I’d been sitting and the only place for me to settle was between Ralphie and Hector on the couch. After Buddy gave me an “I’m sorry but life will be hell if Ralphie doesn’t get his way” look. It was in the middle of Veronica instigating an ingenious plan to foil new baddies when Ralphie leaned forward, shoved his arm under my knees and yanked up my calves, pulling my feet into my lap.

This meant my body twisted and my shoulder collided with Hector’s side. Hector had, for the sake of comfort on the smallish couch (this was what I told myself for my peace of mind) put his arm along the back of the couch (an arm I felt there like it was a snake coiled to strike).

I put my still casted wrist into the cushion by Hector’s hip and turned to glare at Ralphie.

“What are you doing?” I snapped.

“Foot massage,” Ralphie replied, eyes on the TV screen, his hands on my feet starting to massage.

I pulled my feet away. “I don’t want a foot massage.”

Ralphie grabbed my ankles in a firm hold and tugged them back into his lap, a move that made me collide with Hector’s side again.

I leaned away from Hector as Ralphie said, “Everyone wants a foot massage.”

“Well, I don’t,” I returned.

“You do,” Ralphie shot back.

“I don’t,” I snapped.

Ralphie’s eyes swung from Veronica to me. “You
do
.”

Ralphie and I went into a stare down, a stare down I was going to win if it killed me.

I could snuggle up to Buddy on one side of the couch while Ralphie massaged my feet on the other side. I was never, no way, going to lean into Hector (which was my only choice) while Ralphie massaged my feet.

Never.

The stare down lasted until (seriously, no kidding), Hector’s arm circled my shoulders, he put pressure there, my elbow buckled and he pulled me into his side.

I tilted my head back. “Now, what are
you
doing?” I asked.

Hector looked down at me and said, “Relax.”

“I’m uncomfortable,” I replied.

He smiled at me. I stared at him, not a stare down stare, a fascinated one.

I thought about it for a nanosecond and then I gave in. I’d look like a fool if I kept fighting.

I could deal with this; I’d dealt with worse,
loads
worse. After Hector left, I’d give Ralphie a piece of my mind so he understood
exactly
where I stood on the issue of Hector.

I glanced over at Buddy to see if I might have some support but Buddy was watching Hector. Finally his eyes slid to me, he gave me a wink then he went back to Veronica.

No support from Buddy then.

I sat there, Ralphie massaging my feet, and I glared at the TV screen, willing Veronica to take me away.

After awhile, Hector’s fingers started to make lazy circles on my shoulder.

That felt nice, sweet and lovely.

Darn it all to hell.

Fine. I could deal with that too.

I focused on Veronica. Veronica and me, we could make it through, we always got away unscathed or, well… if not unscathed, at least still breathing.

I settled into Hector and Ralphie kept massaging my feet.

Veronica Mars, plucky, high school girl detective only had three seasons.

It might last awhile but, eventually, it would be over.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but flannel shirt.

My senses came to and I realized that I didn’t hear Veronica’s smart mouth, I heard a sports commentator talking about a game. I didn’t feel my feet in Ralphie’s lap; I didn’t feel Ralphie at all. Someone had switched off all the lights in the room except one which meant that only a soft glow came from a beautiful Restoration Hardware floor lamp across the room.

I was no longer curled into Hector’s side and Hector was no longer sitting on the couch.

Instead, my torso was mostly pressed into Hector, my head was resting on his chest, my arm was wrapped around his middle and Hector was reclined back on a diagonal, his feet up on the coffee table.

Oh my.

I tilted my head to look at the armchair. Buddy was gone.

I slid my cheek against Hector’s soft shirt and looked up at him.

He was lounging, asleep, head resting on the back of the couch, arm around me curled at my waist, hand resting gently on my hip.

My sleepy mind whirled and I realized I knew how it happened.

No one could get a foot massage from Ralphie (he gave good foot massages) while leaning into Hector’s immense, comforting heat and not fall asleep. Even when Veronica Mars was solving the mystery of the lost proceeds for the Senior Trip that were stolen from the school’s Winter Carnival.

No one.

Now, how did I get out of
this
predicament?

I decided I would scoot away and leave him there. He looked comfortable enough. I’d escape upstairs and sleep in the next morning, sleep in until I knew for certain sure Hector was gone.

Though, before I left, I’d put a blanket over him, just in case he got cold.

I took my eyes from him and cautiously edged away, lifting myself up and pulling my arm from around his abs.

His hand went from relaxed and resting, to tight and firm on my hip.

I angled my head to look at him and found, in my movements, I’d brought my face closer to his.

I noticed immediately he wasn’t asleep anymore. His eyes were open and he was looking at me.

Darn.

Before I could think (and thus stop myself from speaking), I whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Then I watched close up as his face warmed. It warmed in a way I’d seen it warm before. The way it warmed that night in my father’s study when I was sliding my hands up his chest and around his neck right before I asked him to kiss me.

I stopped breathing.

He kept looking at me and I felt a weird sensation that I knew was complete and utter fear mingled bizarrely with the barest hint of anticipation.

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

My mouth went dry.

The anticipation fled and the fear took hold and I started to panic.

I was about to push away, run away, get out of there as fast as my French pedicure toe-nailed feet would take me when his fingers at my hip flexed and I fought through the fear and focused on him again.

“I need to get home,” he said softly.

At his words, the panic disappeared and relief filled me.

I nodded. He did an ab curl, pulling up, taking me with him until he was on his feet and he planted me on mine, right in front of him.

Then before I could move away, he grabbed my hand and I had no choice but to walk him to the door.

He stopped there, hand still in
mine
, body so close I could feel his heat and he looked down at me.

“I go out, I wait until I hear you lock the door,” he informed me.

I nodded again.

Then he went on, “Tomorrow night, I’ll be back. Seven o’clock. I’m taking you to dinner.”

The panic came back and my mouth dropped open. Hector “Oh my God” Chavez wanted to take me out to dinner?

How bizarre was
that?

My mind scrambled for an excuse and, thankfully, I had one.

“I can’t. Buddy and Ralphie and I have plans,” I told him and it wasn’t a lie. We were going out to dinner and they were taking me to a drag show afterwards. They’d decided, after all that was my life, it was high time for me to start having fun.

“Then Monday. I’ll be here at seven,” Hector replied immediately and I opened my mouth to speak but he lifted the other hand, the one not holding mine (still!) and put his finger to my upper lip.

I stopped breathing again.

He took his finger away. “It’ll be casual; there’ll be no reason to put on your designer armor.”

Oh my God!

He knew about my armor! He even said it, straight out!

How did he know?

Oh… my…
God!

Before I could figure it out or ask or get over my panic attack, he murmured, “Monday. Seven.”

Then he squeezed my hand and he was gone.

I stared at the door for what seemed like forever and, finally, from outside I heard Hector’s voice say sharply, “Lock.”

I jumped to the door and threw the lock.

I put my ear to it and heard his boots on the steps outside and I stayed there even when I could hear them no more. After awhile, I turned toward the stairs and came to a jarring halt when I saw Ralphie sitting on one of them looking at me.

“How long have you been sitting there?” I breathed.

“Was up on the landing, listening to him ask you out. Came down after he left,” Ralphie replied.

“Ralphie, we need to talk about –”

“If you think we need to talk about how you don’t want anything to do with Hispanic Hottie then you need to think again, sweet ‘ums.”

“Ralphie –”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Ralphie!”

He stood and looked down at me. “You deserve your little slice of happiness, you’ve waited long enough for it and worked hard enough to earn it and I’m gonna see you get it.”

Then before I could protest he turned and walked up the stairs.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

Darn.

Chapter Five

Screaming Orgasm

Sadie

“We are not watching YoYo,” Buddy snapped at Ralphie as he opened the door to the gay bar on Colfax and stepped back to let me precede him.

“We are so watching YoYo,” Ralphie snapped back, getting up close to me, putting his hands to my waist and crowding in behind me, shoving me through the door.

“No YoYo,” Buddy returned.

“Oh so YoYo,” Ralphie shot back.

I started giggling.

They were arguing about watching
Bex’s
black pug, YoYo. She was going on vacation and needed someone to look after her dog.
Bex
had brought her around that day so we could meet her.

Buddy didn’t like dogs but, on sight, Ralphie and I fell in love with the snorting, wheezing, teeny-tiny, squirming, adorable pug.

“We watch YoYo, you’re gonna start in on me about getting a damn dog again and I’ve made myself clear on this subject about a million times,” Buddy replied.

“Excuse me but
I
can’t wear the cute doggie sweaters I bought online. We
have
to get a dog so I can dress her up in those sweaters,” Ralphie threw in.

“I told you not to buy those sweaters. Why would anyone buy doggie sweaters when they don’t have a dog?” Buddy was losing patience.