Page 23 of Crushing On My Dad's Best Friend

Worried.

“I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on or anything,” she says assertively.

“I just…I just need some air,” she finally gets out. Her face is a mixture of a dozen emotions, and all of them good.

I think.

I lift her down from the bench, noticing how light she is. Making a mental note to make sure she starts eating more.

But instead of opening a window or going outside for air, May starts to pace the kitchen, biting her thumbnail.

I’m happy to watch her do anything, and all day if needed.

As long as I know she wants me and that she hasn’t screamed and run a mile now she knows how I feel about her, I’m happy.

I’m more than fucking happy right now.

“I didn’t think you were leading me on, and I didn’t mean to be so forward,” I remark, taking a stool by the counter and settling myself onto it.

I watch her pace the kitchen, studying her youthful features while she grapples with something in her mind.

Hoping it hasn’t changed in the last few seconds.

“What’s wrong?” I finally have to ask.

She shakes her head and flashes me a smile.

“Nothing’s wrong, silly. I just need to process this,” she says, crimping her mouth and pacing again.

And as soon as I think it must be about her dad as well as me, I feel my cell buzzing in my back pocket.

I know it's Steve somehow, so I know I have to take this call.

May’s taking some deep breaths, but at least she’s stopped pacing.

I’ve heard of girls swooning from a kiss, but she looks like something’s come loose.

Clearing my throat before I answer, I watch May stiffen up again, tense.

She knows who it is as well as I do, and his timing seems to be as lousy as it is consistent.

“Hey, Steve,” I answer, trying not to sound too upbeat.

I can hear he’s calling from his car, probably still driving to the shop.

“B? Look, man, I’m sorry I acted like a jerk earlier. I guess I’m the one who needs a nap, but I can’t afford the time right now,” he chuckles but still sounds like he means it.

Steve’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And I feel a stab of pride as well as guilt in my gut as I listen to his honest apology.

Even though I know already that we’re both gonna be sorry soon enough, I’ll take whatever he dishes out once he finds out.

And until then?

Well, until further notice from May, I think it’s best we keep our little secret a little more secret for a little longer.

“You don’t have to apologize, buddy,” I console him. “When do you finish again?” I ask, already calculating the potential hours' May and I have left to be alone.

More time to take things slower? Hmmm, maybe, but maybe not.