Dirty Toe Drag by Toni Aleo

Chapter Nine

Stella

Oh.Shit.

I agreed to a date with Wes.

Okay. No big deal. Who am I kidding? This is huge. What if he asked me so that I would go back to his house with him? What if a date to him means fucking like rabbits? I can’t do that, no matter how much I want to. I have exhibited some incredible restraint when it comes to Wesley McMillan, and I’m not giving that up now!

I’m shaking as I drive toward his house. Neither of us has said anything about the potential date since we got in the car. Instead, we’ve been singing along to the radio and enjoying the ride down the country roads.

That’s when I realize something.

“You didn’t actually drink tonight. Do you have practice tomorrow?”

Wes’s voice trails off from the song he is singing, and he shakes his head. “No, we don’t.”

“Oh, then why didn’t you drink? I figured that’s why I drove, to be your DD.”

“No, it was because you knew where we were going.”

“True. Do you not drink?”

He gives me a side-eye. “You think I’m an alcoholic or something?”

She grins. “No. I just know you love a good beer. They even had your favorite.”

“Yeah, I saw it. Didn’t want it.”

“Oh,” I answer, and then I tease, “Don’t trust yourself drunk around me?”

He laughs at that. “I have way more willpower than you’re giving me credit for, Stella.”

“Uh-huh,” I singsong, and he laughs some more. “Just figured you’d want to since you had such a rough day.”

He doesn’t answer me at first, not even a nod; he just stares out the window. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that? I probably sound stupid. He didn’t drink, so who cares? I care. I just feel that he had a rough day, and a nice beer would have taken the edge off. I don’t know. I second-guess myself so much when it comes to him. I already said it. If he wants to ride in silence, that’s fine.

“I don’t drink on therapy days. Especially rough ones.”

I wasn’t expecting that. So many questions run through my head. I want to ask why he’s in therapy, I want to know why it was rough, I want to know everything. “I’m sorry it was a difficult one.”

He shrugs. “My therapist, Noelle, is moving, so I have to get a new one. It has me all stressed out.”

“That super sucks.”

“It does, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Have you had her long?”

“Since I’ve been on the team.”

“Wow. That’s going to be a big change.”

“Yeah. I hate getting to know someone new. I get comfortable, and…I don’t know. It sucks, but I’m committed to it. So, I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Well, duh. Of course you will.” I wonder what he’s in therapy for? Sex addiction? Surely not… Instead of asking why, I say, “I’m sorry, though. Anything I can do to help? I can be an ear.”

He grins. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

I send a grin back before I return my attention to the road so I can get off the interstate. As I turn downtown toward Brooks, he asks, “Can I have your number? So I don’t have to stalk you through Instagram?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I say before I give him my number. Between my legs, my phone vibrates.

“That’s me.”

Not in the way I want him, but I’ll keep that comment to myself.

“Okay, cool.” I head past Brooks and follow the directions he gives me to his house. I pull up in front of one of the ritzy townhouses. They’re brand-new and really pretty. Each one has a different look—from stone to brick to wood. “Which one is yours?”

“This one,” he says, pointing to the one with the wooden exterior. It’s the one I would have chosen too. I stop, putting on my hazards as he fishes his keys out of his pocket. He meets my gaze and smiles widely. I know it’s coming. He’s going to ask me in. I know it. Oh, Stella, get ready, girl. We have to turn him down. Do not say yes. It doesn’t matter how gorgeous he looks. Or how great he smells. “What’s your week look like?”

I swallow hard as I think through my week. “I’m off Thursday and Sunday.”

His eyes sparkle as they hold mine. “Sunday? Is three too early?”

“No, not at all. That sounds great. What are we doing?”

“Cool. Um, we’re doing something…cool.”

“Do I need special clothing for the something cool?” I ask since, obviously, I have to dress accordingly.

“No. I don’t think so. I’ll let you know if something changes.”

“Okay,” I say happily as he throws the door open.

He rolls down the window and then gets out, shutting the door to lean on it. This is where he asks. It has to be. “Can you text me when you get home?”

I’m taken aback, but I recover well, smiling widely. “I will.”

He taps my door, flashing me a grin. “I had a blast tonight. Thanks for inviting me out.”

I’m holding my breath. I don’t trust myself. “Me too. Thanks for coming.”

He gives me a nod. “Okay, goodnight. Be careful going home.”

I blink. That’s it? He didn’t even try to kiss me. “Goodnight,” I say to him as he slowly backs away from my car. I roll up the window and lock the doors as I watch him head up the stairs and into his house. He waves back at me before he goes in, and I let out a long breath.

That did not go the way I thought it would.

But I have to admit, I’m all giggly inside.

That is, until I look at the text from him on my phone. Then, I’m just hot all over.

This text is from a man who finds you so incredibly gorgeous, it’s hard to stand beside you and not wrap you up in my arms. I had a blast tonight. I’m glad we’re exploring this. Goodnight, my stunning Stella.

* * *

Audrey hasa lot for me to do when I get to the shop. Thankfully, Penny is here, and together, we get to work on the fifteen hundred cupcakes for a wedding that evening. As I mix all the ingredients in one industrial mixer, Penny is at the other. We don’t talk much because I think we’re both exhausted. She’s got a crazy schedule, and she’s also a very talented volleyball player and wrestler. Because of the dual sports, she’s always training. I know that work ethic comes from her parents. My aunt Audrey can work herself into the ground, and Uncle Tate was the best goalie at one time, but he’s still a great and influential man. My other cousin, Phillipe, is following right in his dad’s footsteps, and I, for one, am excited to see how far he gets. He’s already playing for the Junior Assassins team at our local rink, and he’s phenomenal. It reminds me of watching Aiden play for them. He was always the one to watch on the ice, and now, it’s Phillipe.

As I transfer batter into each cupcake liner, my thoughts wander from junior hockey to professional. Or, really, to Wes. I texted him once I got home, and he thanked me again for a great night before wishing me another goodnight. It was the weirdest thing. Though, to be honest, I feel special. He’s being really kind—not that he wasn’t before; he’s always been a nice guy—but now it feels like more than just a fuck.

Which is what I want.

Once I put the cupcakes in the oven, I move to the next mixer to make the frosting. Penny meets me there, and together, we prepare a huge batch of frosting.

“Still haven’t told your family you work here?”

Her question surprises me since I thought we weren’t chatting right now. I shake my head as I meet her glowing hazel eyes. They’re so light, almost a green but more a blueish-brown. It’s weird, but I love them. She’s a gorgeous girl, so tall and slender. She takes after Tate, which Audrey says she’s thankful for since she struggled with her weight all her life. But to me, Audrey is absolutely stunning. Penny’s long, dirty-blond hair is back in a French braid, and she’s wearing her sweats from volleyball.

I swallow past the lump in my throat since I know she could tell my family, or even my sister, at any time. She and Emery are buddies. “Nope. They still don’t know.”

“Why? I mean, you love this, Stella. Stop fighting it and be who you are.”

I nod. “You’re right, but I’m a scared little bitch.”

“Don’t know why. You’re talented, and Mom can’t stop talking about it.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I’m figuring it out.”

“Okay,” she drawls, very unconvinced. “How’s life?”

“Busy.” I blow a piece of hair out of my eye. “School and work are kicking my ass. I’d rather just be here all day.”

“You could if—”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious. I know.”

She snickers as she starts the mixer. “Any new guys? I keep seeing you with that really skinny black dude? New boyfriend?”

I shake my head as I turn off the mixer, scooping the frosting into the bags. “No. That’s Lake, my buddy.”

“Oh, he’s hot.”

“He is and so damn funny, but very much gay.”

“All the good ones are.”

“True.” I laugh with her as we make bag after bag. Once we are done, we toss them into the blast chiller. When the timer sounds for the cupcakes, we take them out of the ovens and then move them to the cooling racks before leaning on the table to rest for a second. She’s on her phone and I’m on mine, and once again, we don’t talk. I really have nothing in common with Penny. I love her, I do, but she doesn’t like fashion or makeup. And when we talk about boys, it’s very to the point.

I scroll through Instagram and like and comment on my friends’ posts. When a text comes through, it surprises me. Especially when I see it’s from Wes.

Wes: Hey, stunning Stella.

Wes: You’re up early.

Me: How do you know?

Wes: LOL. You answered me.

Me: You said it first!

Wes: I saw you comment on your brother’s post. Remember? Stalker?

Me: Oh, totally. I may need a restraining order.

Wes: Wait till after Sunday to decide on that.

Me: I can do that.

Wes: Good. Wyd?

Oh. Oh shit, do I lie? I stare at his question, unsure what to do. I know he told me about his therapy and that was sharing, so I should share this, right? I don’t want to lie to him. But then, why is it okay to lie to my family but not Wes? Crap.

Wes: You fall back asleep?

Me: LOL. No, sorry. I’m working out.

Wes: Mmmm. Working on your fitness, I see. What’re you doing?

Me: Treadmill.

I feel bad.

Wes: Make sure to pick up some weights. Weight training is the best for your body. We can work out together if you’d like.

No, I would not like that. I don’t like working out. I would like to watch him work out, but I don’t want to do it myself.

Me: Sure.

Wes: That’s a very noncommittal sure.

Me: Sorry. Don’t know if I want to do that or not.

Wes: I’ll take it easy on you.

Me: No, you wouldn’t.

Wes: I wouldn’t.

I grin as his next text comes through.

Wes: What’s your day looking like?

Me: After I’m done here, heading home, and I have to work tonight.

Wes: No school?

Me: I have two online classes I have to do, but nothing too crazy.

Wes: Awesome. I have practice and tapes and shit. Maybe I’ll come to Brooks tonight for dinner.

Me: I’d like that.

Wes: So you can eat my food again.

Me: Well, duh.

He sends the laughing emoji and I send one back, but then the timer for the cupcakes goes off, meaning they’re done cooling. Penny starts to get up, throwing her phone on top of her bag, and I look back down at my phone.

Me: Hey, gotta go. Talk to you later?

Wes: For sure. Have a good day.

Me: You too.

I tuck my phone into my back pocket and get to work. As I frost each cupcake, I think about how I hate that I lied to him. I don’t know why I feel so guilty or why I’m letting this bother me, but I am. I try to focus on each cupcake, but the guilt is eating me alive.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I glance over to Penny, pulling my brows in. “Huh?”

“You’re talking to yourself with no sound and making weird facial expressions,” she accuses, scrunching up her face. “You okay?”

“I didn’t realize I was doing that,” I admit, relaxing my face. “I’m overthinking something.”

“What?” she asks, her gaze holding mine as she fixes the frosting bag.

I take a deep breath. “I lied to this guy, who I guess I’m talking to, about where I am.”

She gives me a dry look. “So? You lie to your family about this daily.”

“I know, but I feel bad for lying to him.”

She blinks. “Well, then fix it. Why are you upset and kicking yourself when you can correct it?”

“Because I don’t know what to say!”

“It’s easy. You pick up the phone and say, ‘Hey, I’m making cupcakes for my aunt. Do me a solid, and don’t tell anyone because I’m too scared to follow my dreams, and instead I’m wasting my parents’ money on schooling that I don’t even want.’”

My jaw goes slack as I gawk at her. “Man, don’t hold back, Pen!”

She shrugs. “It’s annoying. I hate doing this. Despise it. And you love it and hide it. If it makes you happy, be direct about it. They’ll support you. I mean, come on. You could fart, and they’d say glitter was coming out of your ass.”

I look away as I start to frost once more. I don’t answer her. I don’t like this conversation because it makes me nervous. My parents have spent so much money on school and even things out of school related to my passion for fashion and design. I don’t know how I would tell them that I don’t want to make clothes, that I want to make cakes. The fear of their disappointment rattles my soul.

With Wes, though, there would be no disappointment.

I want to tell him.