"Yep."

"Wild," I chuckled.

"Her name in my phone is actually Wild Child. What a coincidence!"

I glanced over my shoulder. "I can see why."

She continued a smile, rocking on her heels. To avoid awkwardness I pointed back with my thumb, gesturing towards the counter. "How about we join them? I owe you a drink, right?"

"Oh-no!" She waved a hand. "You don't have to. I'm DD."

"DD?" I frowned, confused.

She giggled. "Designated driver."

"Ohh." I cracked a half-smile. "I knew that. s.h.i.t, one drink won't kill you. Come on!"

She looked at me and then at the bar. I guess all of the aligned bottles on the shelves felt welcoming because she finally moved forward. "Fine, but sheesh," Chloe laughed, walking past me and meeting at the far end of the bar. "Come on Mr. Black, you aren't that old. You should know what DD means."

I watched her hips swing, throbbing when my last name ran off her lips. I controlled myself, keeping my voice even as I said, "Your generation is a little different than mine." I followed her to the bar, taking a seat.

"How so?" she questioned.

"Just is. Some of the s.h.i.t I hear kids say now confuses the f.u.c.k out of me."

Chloe laughed, her eyes shimmering from the dim lighting above. "Like YOLO, thot, and Bye, Felicia?"

"Exactly! What do those even mean?" I gestured for Marcel to come my way and after ordering another drink for myself and allowing her to order her own, she responded.

"YOLO means 'you only live once'. A thot is a girl that apparently is a wh.o.r.e, or someone that will sleep with anyone for attention. And Bye, Felicia pretty much means 'get the f.u.c.k out of here with your bulls.h.i.t'."

My eyes expanded, and I couldn't help the laugh that spewed out of me. "Wow... see! Like I said. This generation comes up with some pretty wild s.h.i.t."

She shook her head, still fighting that cute little grin. Her arm happened to brush mine, a bolt of electricity lighting my core. As if she felt that same spark, she looked up at me, but she didn't dare move away. The smoothness of her skin on mine, the flesh on flesh, was all too familiar, and I refused to kill this moment by pulling away. I couldn't be a p.u.s.s.y, pretend nothing was here when there was clearly so much.

So many unanswered questions.

So many unshared moments.

So many times I've wanted to make her mine repeatedly, take her in every position, hear her whisper and then cry my name, hold me close as our lips molded, our breathing entwined, deep in pa.s.sionate trances.

I placed my hand on top of the one she had resting on her lap. Moments later and the wild girl appeared over Chloe's shoulder, her drink sloshing all over the countertop, interrupting our connected gazes. Chloe turned quickly to take the drink from her and placed it on the counter before she could spill it on our clothes.

"Chloe," the girl whined, "can we pleeaaa.s.sseee go back to Brix. I was having so much fun there!"

"I know, but you swore we could come to Dane's at twelve, Mariah." Chloe frowned.

"Yah... I know, but...ugh." She looked around in revulsion. "We're not having fun here." She pouted her bottom lip, placing her elbow on the edge of the counter. She then zoned in on me, her hooded eyes narrowing. "Oh my gosh... you are so f.u.c.king hot!"

I pressed my lips, nodding in appreciation.

"No seriously..." The Mariah girl stood up straight. "Is he why you wanted to come here? My f.u.c.king goodness he's beautiful."

Chloe's cheeks burned, and she purposely avoided my eyes.

"He looks sooo familiar though..." Her lips twisted as she walked around Chloe to get a closer look at me. When it finally registered, she said, "Oh! I know! He totally looks like your friend Izzy! You know, the one we hung out with for spring break last year?"

In an instant, my face went strict, jaw ticking. Reality, like a whirlwind, hit me and I turned forward, looking up at the screen and pulling my hand far away from Chloe's. I pretended not to notice Marcel looking at me from his end of the bar. I was sure he'd been wondering why I was hanging around my daughter's friends at a bar... buying them drinks. Snooting it up with her best friend.

Swallowing thickly, I picked up my drink and finished it. When I finally looked at Chloe, she was speechless as well, like she, too, had forgotten about reality. Her head dropped, pulling from our connected line of sight. "How about I take you guys back to Brix?" I offered, sliding off my stool.

"It's okay. You don't have to." She downed her cranberry-vodka and then slammed the empty gla.s.s on the marble. "I can take them back."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Mariah b.u.t.ted in. "That was her first drink of the night. So f.u.c.king lame, right?" Her laugh came out like more of a cackle, causing her date to join in on the laughter with her. Man, they were annoying little s.h.i.ts. How could she deal with this all night? I'm almost certain that, when I was their age, I wasn't that obnoxious.

"Come on, Tiny!" Mariah waved for the lanky boy at the bar to follow her outside. When they were long gone, Marcel blew a sigh and picked up their gla.s.ses, wiping their area clean. Chloe remained seated, looking at me for a brief moment before dropping her head.

"She doesn't know who you are," she murmured, "...if that's what you're thinking."

"Yeah, I know." I scratched my chin. "Sure you don't want me to drop you off?"

She stood from the stool, looking into my eyes as she neared me. My pounding heart caught speed as she placed a hand on top of my shoulder. "I was actually thinking about dropping them off and meeting you... if that's okay?"

"s.h.i.t... yeah. More than okay."

"Where should we meet?"

I thought of it, and when I pictured the perfect place, I told her, "I'll text you the address."

She nodded. "Okay." Then, she walked past me, her round a.s.s bouncing, heels clicking across the wooden floorboards. Glancing over her shoulder, lips full and supple, she sarcastically asked, "Just try and make it a little public, will you?"

She had no idea. The place I had in mind was more private than a secluded hotel room reserved for a celebrity. With a half-smile on my lips, I watched as she left the bar, her words running back and forth in my head. I leaned my elbows on the counter, sighing as I pulled out my cell phone. Marcel still stood at the bar, clearing his throat.

When I turned around to look at him, his brows were st.i.tched, lips pressed thin. He was a buff guy with a shiny baldhead and a hoop earring in his left ear. His reddish goatee had grown out since the last time I saw him, his grey t-shirt stained with sweat. "Mind telling me what the h.e.l.l that was?"

"What do you mean?" I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about.

"The girl," he gestured towards the door, "...the one that's about half your age that just walked out of here. Isn't that little Chloe?"

I glanced down, running my tongue over my teeth. I could have explained it to him, but I just didn't know how. "Look, Marcel, just pretend you didn't even see her here."

He grunted and it just so happened to be the sound of his laughter. "I see plenty of s.h.i.t going on around here. Trust me, this isn't the worst of it. Ain't my business but... be careful, man. And be wise."

He, of all people, knew what he was talking about. He knew my daughter. I talked about her at least once every time I made an appearance here. Considering he had a daughter himself, I could only imagine what he was thinking.

Did he consider me a pervert?

A dips.h.i.t?

An idiot that overpaid for drinks?

As all of that clicked in my brain, I started to think... what if an older man came onto my daughter? A man that I thought I could trust? A man that was supposed to look out for her, not f.u.c.k her brains out?

f.u.c.k no. I couldn't even f.u.c.king imagine a man my age touching my daughter. My child. My f.u.c.king life.

Dropping another wad of bills on the counter for Chloe's forgetful friends and myself, I marched for the exit and hopped into my car, cranking it and driving to the one place I should have been all along.

Home.

Away from the fantasies.

Away from what wasn't meant to be.

Away from Chloe.

Twelve.

He didn't text me.

Or respond to the text I sent him. Not even a phone call. At first I was worried, thinking he may have gotten into an accident or maybe caught up with something, but when I saw him casually entering his home with a box of tools the following night, I knew he was avoiding me.

I tried thinking of what may have happened between the time I left him and now. Other than Mariah blabber-mouthing about how he looked like Izzy, I couldn't think of much. Maybe the mere mention of his daughter's name was enough to make him realize that he was getting off track-that he couldn't go back to what we were before.

It couldn't be that way. He couldn't hurt her, and he also couldn't hurt me. Distance was understandable, but all he had to do was tell me. What was all that talk about sharing just one summer? Did he not think of her then? Or was he too far gone in his thoughts and thinking with his d.i.c.k?

I considered it him thinking with his other nonsensical head.

It whipped at my emotions, but I had to put myself in his shoes. I was tired of beating around the bush, dying for this man to touch me, feel me-do anything that would make me feel something. I just wanted to go back to school, forget I ever came here and saw him again.

Ugh. Men.

Speaking of, my father had trapped himself in his bedroom, refusing his meds again, which eventually resulted in a tough day for us. He called us strangers (as he always did) and even threw one of his trophies at us when we came to bring him lunch.

My day was stressful. Margie had way more patience than I could ever uphold. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could handle-the confusion from Theo and the stress I endured while putting up with my father. I was a strong girl, but there was only so much I could handle right now.

I sat on my bed a few minutes after I saw Theo entering his home, knees drawn to my chest, tears shedding. A knock sounded on my door seconds later, and Margie walked in with a basket of my folded laundry. Seriously, she was too much. Freaking wonderful. When she caught sight of the tears on my face, she quickly apologized and hurried back out, but I called for her to come back in.

"It's okay," I whispered.

"Are you sure sweetie? I don't want to be a bother."

"No bother at all." I swiped my face, clearing my eyes as she placed the basket in front of my closet. "What's going on?"

"I washed most of your clothes. Thought you could use a little help." Her smile was complacent. "I also wanted to let you know your father is finally asleep. He ate a little bit of yogurt and some of his banana, so hopefully that'll hold him over for the night."

"Oh, okay." I nodded. "Thank you so much, Margie."

"Of course, dear." She started to turn, but then changed her mind, looking at me again. "I-well, I just wanted to ask you about something."

"Yeah?"

Stepping forward, she twisted her fingers in front of her and hesitated for a few seconds. "It's none of my business at all, and you don't have to answer, but... I saw you coming from across the street the other night? The man kissing you on the cheek?" She blinked, an ounce of overprotectiveness in her eyes. "Is he the reason you're upset?"

"Oh, G.o.d, no!" I slid to the edge of the bed, and she pressed a hand to her chest, relieved. "No. The man across the street is a really good guy. He invited me over for dinner. I've known him since I was twelve."

"Oh. How nice. Does he have children?"

I looked away. "Just one. A daughter."

"Oh." Margie's eyes maneuvered to the picture on my nightstand. The black and white photo of me and Izzy standing right in front of their house across the street. "I'm going to take a wild guess and a.s.sume that's her?"

I glanced up. Margie's head was slanted. When I didn't say anything, she walked forward and sat beside me. "Sweetie, you don't have to talk, but I just want you to know that whenever you think you need to, I'm here. I know your mom isn't around and your dad isn't in the very best state of mind to take in your problems on top of his own, so if you need an ear, I'm always here." Her chubby cheeks spread, grey irises full of kindness.

"Thank you, Margie. I appreciate that." She nodded but remained seated as if she knew there was more. Surprisingly, I continued our chat. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I have been thinking about Theo-"

"That's his name?" She pointed towards my window.

"Yes..."

"Ahh. You call him by his first name. I see my eyes weren't deceiving me. There's much more to that kiss on the cheek, huh?"

I huffed a laugh. "A lot more. How can you tell?"

"Let's just say I may have dealt with a situation like the one you're in. Goodness, it was so long ago, but I can remember everything." Silence fell between us. I a.s.sumed she was thinking of whomever the man was, remembering every single detail like I did every single d.a.m.n day.

"He isn't the reason I'm upset, though," I murmured.

"No?"

"No. It's just Dad. I feel so awful for him. For Mom not being here, him being alone. It kinda sucks, you know?"

"Oh, honey, your dad will be okay. Trust me, he's a strong man. Just very stubborn on the days he can't remember much."

"Is it supposed to be that way?"

She shrugged and sighed. "It could be worse."

"I bet you hate your job now, huh?" I laughed, teasing.

"You know... it's actually not so bad. Mr. Knight is a good guy on his good days, and I was fortunate enough to meet his sweet daughter. I swear I thought I was going to have to deal with two stubborn people when I heard you were coming home. I was kind of scared."