IaW Ch. 04: Sunday in the Parking Lot

"So they'll think you're cheating?"

She nodded.

"Can I ask you one favor?"

She nodded again, looking at me. "Anything."

I wasn't really sure how to put it. The voyeur in me was all for it, even with after-the-fact voyeurism, but there was a twinge of trepidation. It didn't feel like jealousy, but maybe a bit of pride at stake. How did I navigate this tangle?

After a few moments and a few false starts, I finally found words that would help. "If you're going to be 'cheaty' -- which kinda turns me on -- tell me how you're going to pitch it to a guy."

She thought about it a minute. "Basically the truth. It's got nothing to do with my fiancé, or how much I love him, or how good he is in bed. It's that I like the attention. I get off on being dirty. I know I shouldn't but I can't help myself."

"And if I come up in the conversation?"

"You think it's cute that I'm a flirt..." Her big green eyes were watery but her nipples were hard. "But you don't know how slutty I really am."

"Ginnifer..."

"Yes?"

"You are fucking awesome."

###

We got back early Sunday afternoon and swung by the pet boarding place to pick up Aramis, her cat. Then we swung by her apartment to pick up another load of stuff, including all the cat gear. This marked the next big stage of our relationship: she was bringing her cat to my place.

It felt odd. I loved pets, don't get me wrong, but my job drags me between locations, sometimes months at a time. I've never had the freedom to share my place with somebody who couldn't open their own can of food.

Aramis was glad to see us and confused we were headed someplace else. We got back to my place, put the cat box in the laundry room, set up food bowls in the kitchen and let him out of the bag. After a ceremonial sniffing, the Mouseketeer claimed the duplex for France.

Ginny didn't waste time, unpacking this latest load, arranging stuff just-so, and recalibrating her groove. Then there was the Keto purge after all our vacation bingeing, dialing all food down to protein essentials.

She did her yoga while I did vacation laundry and reviewed notes for this upcoming gig. I was not looking forward to being gone. Usually, I lived for the job, but now? I was getting used to being around the kinky, freckled ginger...

As I found a pause point, it was time to get out for a run. I didn't think she'd go, but I threw her an invite. Ginny jumped into her running shoes and we were out the door a minute later. This was early evening in late August, so it was still 90º outside.

I had not planned for talking on this run, this was going to be a sweat atonement for all the drinks and generally bad behavior of the last week and a half.

Shorter legs, she couldn't match stride for stride, but she had speed and endurance, matching pace no problem. The first half was all uphill, on a light grade, but in the heat it was brutal. By the top, she was breathing as heavy as I was. Not one word of complaint, though. Tough chick.

Downhill eased the fire from the lungs. A block into it, the burn on the sides of the thighs had drifted to that spot on the quads just above the knee. Downhill running hits a whole different area, and this route would give us a serious case of Elvis leg.

Our first stop for traffic, Ginny touched my arm. "Are you okay?"

I wiped the sweat from my eyes. "Yeah, why?"

"I've seen people run from things, literally and metaphorically. You look like you're running after something and god help whatever it is when you catch it."

It took a second to process the words. It took another second to find enough air to chuckle. "Two things. First, I should've worn sunglasses. I wasn't thinking when we left. Second, hat; if only keep the sweat out of my eyes. Apologies if I'm channeling a gargoyle, I'm getting salt blasted."

"I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like... simmering... about anything." She blinked what I thought was sweat from her own eyes, but I may not have been reading that right. "You know: I'm just... keeping that 'communication' up."

Fuck.

I nodded and tried to smile through the glaring, setting sun and the stinging sweat. "Honestly, I'm feeling the karma of not running for a week and a half. I'm thinking about two weeks of jammed office time, then six weeks on location in Georgia. Beautiful area but I fucking hate mosquitos. They're not real fond of me, either."

"So, it's not me?"

"No, it's mostly you. I'm going to be way over there and you're going to be back here... and that distance sucks."

"But it's not me in a 'bad' way?"

"It's you in a good way." I grabbed her shoulders, pulled her in and laid a kiss on her. "You are fine."

She was relieved as we took off across the street.

I was setting a race-pace back down the hill, but now she had the look I probably did five minutes ago.

Fuck. Did I mention "fuck"?

I slowed us down over half a block, getting enough wind to carry on a conversation. "Okay, out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Something is 'simmering'."

"Nothing."

"Never tell me 'nothing' or I swear to god, I will call your therapist and bribe them for every secret you've got."

She snorted. "I've already told you more than I've told my therapist."

"Okay, let's just talk then. Tell me about... Your first serious relationship."

"Oh, god. Adam..." She wiped sweat from her eyes. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, slowing my stride a little more. "Tell me a story."

"I'd grew up in C-town and we became a couple the summer before High School. We went steady for four years and he was my first in... just about everything. Then I graduated, my parents died, he broke up with me and I became an underage alcoholic. I think that's pretty much it."

I stopped, cradled her face and looked into her eyes. That was a short, brutal autobiography. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "High school was pretty good, in spots. The first couple weeks after high school almost killed me. I rebounded right into the arms of Alex. That lasted about two years and exploded. Lindsay died. Then I left Cleveland before it killed me, too, and I came out to sunny California."

"Lindsay... We'll come back to her. Him?" Details were catching up. "C-town is Cleveland?"

She nodded. "And California is here!"

I looked around. "That explains it. Thanks."

"I've been here for three years. Floundered around for a while, had a 16-month relationship with Ed, he broke up with me, uploaded me, I imploded, and you... adopted a rescue. That's all three of my serious relationships, and now starting a fourth. Short and sweet!"

Holy fuck. Yes, "fuck" needed an upgrade.

"Fourth and final, Ginnifer." I shook my head and re-engaged pace at a slow jog. "There's a shit ton to unpack there, including actual death. I'm very sorry about your parents."

She nodded. "It sucked. It still sucks."

"I was planning on mining the salacious details, but, um... actual death kinda fucks up that plan. Again, I'm... so very sorry."

She looked both ways before crossing the next street. "It was a car accident the week after I'd graduated. Mom and Bob."

"You called your dad 'Bob'? Guessing he was a stepdad?"

"My real father was a drunk and a gambler. He abandoned us when I was six and fled back to Ireland. I heard from distant family that he died in a bar fight in Belfast. I was twelve."

Jesus Christ. Death and this chick. Jessica Fletcher, step aside.

If there was a bright side, she didn't seem broken up about his death. Understandable, really. I squinted at her. "Ireland? I thought there was just a hint of an accent."

"So, like... I was born in Cleveland, but from a Norniron poppa and a Scottish mum." She stopped along the sidewalk and gave a proper curtsy. "UK anchor-baby, thank you very much. As for the accent, it was kind of a mosh with those two. As I grew up, I worked at making it neutral American."

"Well, I love where it's at."

She smiled, a little self-conscious.

"So, no dad growing up?"

"Oh, mom got an annulment somehow and remarried when I was 10. Bob was a nice guy. Insurance salesman. It lasted eight years until a drunk driver wandered over the lane and hit them in a head-on."

I may have mentioned "fuck"?

"That is tragic beyond words. I am so, so sorry."

She nodded. "That's most of the death. The family death, at least."

"Right. Who was Lindsay?"

"She was my bestie, growing up" --Jeezuz F-- "We knew each other since fifth grade. Even got a job together, working at Abercrombie for a couple years."

"Okay, that fits."

"What fits?"

"Pretty girls at an Abercrombie."

"Pretty. A blessing... and a curse." Gin nodded with a wistful smile. "I'm pretty, I know, but she was really pretty. She..."

"Modeled?"

"Commit suicide."

"Holy shit!"

"Bullied." Gin almost ran into traffic until I yanked her back. Didn't even register as she went on with her story. "It was right after Alex got another girl pregnant. He dumped me for her, his 'duty' and stuff, and Lindsay couldn't handle... everything else. Ate a bottle of Valium. Between those two, if I'd stayed in Cleveland, I would've followed."

"I am so glad you came out here."

I wrapped her in a hug and I'd intended on just making it a quick gesture... but a little sniffle turned into a snivel turned into a full bawl until she just collapsed in my arms. I held her up, then scooped her up and carried her out of the sun.

A few yards away was technically somebody's front lawn, but it didn't look like they were home. I gently set her down in the grass, under the shade of a magnolia tree. She was utterly oblivious.

Ginny had a full, heaving, ugly cry going -- or a theoretically ugly cry, at least. She had the flushed, red face and tears and snot and the whole thing, yet she was still fucking gorgeous. Not sure how that works.

I figured she'd want air while she cried, but no -- she wanted to be in my arms. She pulled at me, she hung on me, she pushed at me, sometimes she pounded on my shoulder, but she never let go. Neither did I.

There were no words I could say. There was no advice I could offer, so I didn't try. I just held her, letting her know by touch alone that I was there for her.

I held her for another ten minutes as she dehydrated. Her tears and sweat, rolling down my shoulder, were romantic in a way. The snot, less so, but normally self-conscious-girl didn't even register what was happening. Not to say that I didn't care, but I realized it didn't bug me.

It occurred to me, in that moment, that me and the cat were the only people on earth who gave a shit. Me, Aramis, and maybe Edgar Allan Poe, guarding against another death of a beautiful woman.

We already know Ginnifer was closed up against her therapist. This might've been the first true cry she'd had since the death of her parents. And Lindsay. And the collapse of relationships she thought would carry on for a lifetime.

But nobody gave a shit, probably because she was a pretty face. Like a kind of every-day celebrity where people don't even register them as human anymore. So much so that she barely registered herself as human... until all that experience rushed back, this emotional boomerang catching up to slam her right fucking now.

###

The heaves were further and farther apart. The sobs were increasingly sparse. Focus was returning to her eyes.

She looked around a moment like she wasn't even sure how she got there.

That led to another short wave of sobs, her face buried my neck.

She eventually leaned back a little, blinking, to look at me.

I looked back at her and couldn't help but smile, just a little. "You've needed this. Don't feel like you need to rush back. I'm here. I will always be here."

She rested her head against my shoulder and sobbed just a little more.

I was trying to let her know I had her back, to let her relax and find calm -- but somehow, my stupid words just reopened the torrent.

Maybe a couple minutes later, she leaned back again. She looked down, her breath one sigh after another.

My first thought was to ask "Are you okay?" but that was immediately stomped out. She was not okay, I knew that answer, she knew and the rest of the universe knew. Asking that would not help right now.

Instead: "Let's get you home. We need to get some water in you."

She started sobbing again.

Fuck.

Some inner analyst flagged the word "home." I don't know if that was it, but it made sense.

A minute later, she stabilized again as she stared up at me.

I gave her nose a gentle pinch, then used my thumb to squeegee the snot from her upper lip. It wasn't clean by any means, but it was safe enough to lean in and give her a kiss.

She locked eye contact, eyes still welling, and she kissed me back. A second kiss, a third kiss, a short kiss, a deep kiss.

She choked a little, and laughed a little as she wiped at her cheeks. "You'll kiss me with snot on my face but not cum?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "The cum might be hot, but who knows where the cum might come from? The snot? Cum is not snot. The snot is not hot, but it's all you. You, I can deal with. I can deal with snot all day."

I stood and offered my hand.

She accepted and I pulled, floating her to her feet.

"Had no idea I fell in love with Dr. Seuss." She wiped an eye and gripped my hands tight. "I'm sorry... for all this."

"Pretty obvious you needed to un-bottle all that." I held up my phone. "Feel like you can make it or should I call us a Lyft?"

She wiped her nose on the back of her wrist, then just gave up and used her shirt. "So sexy, I know. I'm so sorry."

"Life is messy. We deal with it. You don't need to apologize for being alive."

She looked up, her eyes 100% puppy.

I shook my head. "Don't."

"What?"

"You were about to apologize for apologizing."

"Dammit."

"Was I right?"

She looked down. "I'm really--"

"Shh. Can you make it?"

She nodded. "I can make it."

"Let's go."

###

We were on-approach to the duplex when we smelled the wafting aroma of a grill. Absolutely not fair, especially since it was getting stronger as we got closer to home.

Like a blessing from heaven, Preston was out front of their half the duplex, mastering the grill. Bermuda shorts and a blazer. Closer up, we saw the blazer was over a ratty t-shirt, ascot and captain's cap. He was basically a 23-year old grunge version of Thurston Howell III. There was a plastic martini glass next to the grill and I'm pretty sure it was filled with... beer.

"Ahoy, neighbors!" He waved as Gin and I came through the front gate. "The girl is hot! Bring your meat!"

"Thank you!" Ginny spun around. "The grill is hot! I've got chicken in the fridge!"

I traded a look with Preston and he feigned innocence.

Ginny held out her hand. "I don't think we've formally met? Ginnifer!"

"Preston."

They shook hands and he bowed as they did. He didn't seem put off by the sweat.

She glanced around his shoulder. "Is there a spot on there I could grill tofu?"

"Tofu! On this grill?! Of course! There's a griddle area right over here. Bring it out! I'm a master of grilling tofu!"

Ginny scampered past, tapping my shoulder as she did. "Don't worry about dinner, babe, I've got this covered!"

Once she was inside, Preston whistled and turned around. "How DO you do it?"

"Rohypnol, mostly."

"Don't even joke about that. I've lost my supplier."

"Jesus. I thought I was bad."

"You are bad, but I'm learning."

I'd only moved in two months ago, but these guys threw parties every Friday and Saturday night over the whole summer. The neighbors were sick of them, and I should be sickest of all, but it had been easier than going out to bars. Over a dozen parties and forty gallons of beer, I'd broken the ice with Preston, Chazz and Blake alike.

I glanced at the griddle. "Master of tofu?"

"Don't tell anyone."

Chazz, Blake and Preston were all in grad school, the MBA program at nearby Woodbury. All three were Ginny's age (putting all four of them 3 years behind me).

Preston flipped the steaks on the grill. "I'm going to guess that you're the chicken and she's the tofu."

"Christ, I hope so."

"I thought you were allergic to chicken."

"Yeah... She did this whole workup on me. Height, body fat and lean mass targets, all pointing to protein intake minimums."

He pointed the tongs at me. "I'm gathering she likes the abs and wants you to keep them."

"That's... great. I run so I can eat. I am not prepared for discipline in this part of my life."

"Rick, you take the good with the good-ish, especially if it's coming from somebody like that. Now, is she..."

"What?"

"Actually moving in?"

From behind, her voice rang out. "Yes!"

I nodded confirmation.

"That's fantastic!" Preston proclaimed, barely hiding his once-over as she approached. "Rick was telling me about the protein thing. Are you a dietician?"

She shook her head. "No, it's a hobby. One among many."

"Fantastic! Where did you two meet?"

"Library!" She bubbled.

"Library? Fantastic! I didn't even know Rick could read."

"Picture books," I nodded.

Preston gave her a more open appraisal. "Well, you obviously know your stuff. You look amazing, by the way."

"Thank you!"

"Not 'fantastic'?" I asked.

Preston hit me with the tongs and turned back to her. "Lug here has gotten leaner and meaner over the last month, too. You ever think about becoming a dietician? I'd sign up."

"I make more as a receptionist. I've thought about classes and I do follow a couple of dietitians on Insta, but if we're going that direction I've also thought about getting a Physical Trainers certification." She handed Preston the chicken/tofu plate. "Heck, after my, um, break, I thought about getting a degree in psychology."

"Fantastic! What branch?"

"Sexual."

It just hung there like a big red balloon until it floated away with the rest of the smoke.

"FUCKING fantastic," Preston clarified.

Preston had no idea the "break" was an actual nervous breakdown, but Gin and I traded a look on it. It happened after her ex and his new girlfriend uploaded Ginny's sex vids to YouPorn. Yeah, she'd technically given consent, but had given it as "bedroom talk."

"Therapist," I nodded. "I think they make more than $60 an hour..."

She fired an eyebrow at me. "Trying to get me out of the office?"

"No, V. Not right away, at least."

I could see the train of thought roll through her head. V... Veronica! Ginny smirked, bit her lip and turned away.

Preston had already shifted his focus to the grill, laying out the chicken. If he caught any of that, he wasn't letting on.

I took a deep inhale and the smells had my mouth watering. "You know what's fantastic? This grill. You know how it could be fantastic-er? Wing sauce. I'll be right back..."

###

The sun was setting and the mosquitos were coming out. After Preston performed his magic, we grabbed our food and retreated before the little vampires got any worse.

For a solid ten minutes, the cat was the only one of us to actually say anything. I shared some of my chicken with him, but mostly there was thoughtful silence.

Ginny kept throwing furtive glances my way, and I'd probably thrown some towards her. I probably had four different trains of thought going at the same time, and she was three of them (and the other was work).

Finally, all her glances congealed into a gaze.

I felt like I was being studied. "What's on your mind?"

"What's on YOUR mind?" She countered.

"You, mostly."

"What part?"

"Left elbow."

She blinked and shook her head. "You are really good at throwing me off."

"Sorry. The gentle art of verbal judo, otherwise known as my dad's sense of humor."

She looked down, reset, and looked back up with focus in her eyes. "The Veronica Count."

Shit. "Yeah?"

"I'm really, really turned on by it. I love it..."