Almost in Love (6 page)

Bare looked down at himself. “No problem. I’m sure the dry cleaner can get it out.” He grimaced at the crying kids and told the parents, “They can get whatever they want no charge. I’ll get this cleaned up in a jif.”

He walked behind the counter and sent a teenage employee out to clean the floor. Amber joined him behind the counter, grabbing some napkins to help him clean up the sopping mess on his costume as best she could.

Bare’s mouth formed a flat line as he also worked to sop up the mess. “No need. You just go back and enjoy your treat.”

“Let’s get you out of this,” she said.

He hung his head and shuffled to a back room. She unzipped the costume in the back and helped him step out of it with minimal damage to his clothes underneath.

“My mother made that costume special for me,” he said quietly. “She was so proud when I opened my own shop. It was the first thing I ever did that she could enjoy. She’s a technophobe.”

Amber’s heart squeezed. Bare was a software engineer and had made a really cool app too. His app, Giggle Snap, was hugely popular. People all over the world used it to share sounds. She knew very well what it was like to be good at something your family just didn’t understand. She grew up in a family of physicists—her dad, stepmom, and half-sister—who thought her painting was a complete waste of time. Her mom, an artist, had dropped her off with her father’s new family when Amber was thirteen so her mom could take a trip to Paris to find herself. Amber figured she never did find herself because she hadn’t seen her since.

“We’ll fix it,” she said. “Let’s soak it so the stains don’t set.”

Bare took the costume over to the sink, put the stopper in, and filled it with water. He dumped some dish soap in. His always rumpled hair fell over his forehead as he stared down at his ruined costume.

“Not much of a date, huh?” he asked.

“It’s been…memorable.” She searched for something nice to say. “Unique.”

He turned to her. “I guess we should just…I dunno. Stop.”

She nodded. “I think we’ve done plenty. That was a lot of date you packed into one morning.”

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

She didn’t protest, merely followed him to the parking lot. She never wanted to hurt Bare’s feelings, but she was starting to think maybe the spin cycle of the washing machine had more to do with that amazing kiss than Bare. They were just so…different. I mean, sure they both liked to watch
Zombie Bonanza,
but beyond that…not much in common. She was a watercolor artist/art teacher, and he was a brilliant computer guy with a fro-yo shop on the side. Artists and techies didn’t mix all that well. Just look at her and her family.

Bare was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive back to their apartment building. She tried to get him talking about their favorite show, but his one-word answers told her he was still upset about his costume getting ruined.

He walked her to her door. “Can I kiss you goodbye?”

It was sweet he asked, but…she just didn’t think this was going to work out between them. “I think maybe we’re better off as friends.”

His shoulders slumped. “Oh. Yeah.” He took a step back. “Sure, I understand.”

She blew out a breath of relief. “You do? Great. Because I would hate to not be friends.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She smiled and was glad to see he smiled back. “All right. I’ll see you later.”

She unlocked the door to her apartment. He turned and went into his apartment. That went better than she’d hoped. Good. They’d tried, it didn’t work out, no permanent damage done.

Amber went back to her normal routine of teaching rowdy kids art by day and painting with watercolors nights and weekends. Bare hadn’t stopped by for a chat or takeout like he usually did. It had been a week since their date, and she was starting to worry she wasn’t going to see him again. It had been so nice having a friend right across the hall who stopped by almost every night. She’d gone into the date expecting boring and safe and came out embarrassed, but also at peace with her decision that they were better off as friends.

She missed him a lot.

And what about that kiss?
Slutty Amber asked. It had been a really amazing kiss.

She confided in her friend Steph Moore, a fifth grade teacher, over lunch in the Clover Park Elementary School teachers’ lounge. “Do you think Bare’s upset? He said friends was okay with him, but I haven’t seen him at all since then. Usually he’d stop by, like, almost every night if he wasn’t working the late shift at his shop.”

Steph considered this while chomping on a baby carrot. “Maybe he just needs a little time. He took you on a date, and you rejected him.”

Amber thought about when he’d asked if he could kiss her goodbye. Maybe she should’ve said yes. Maybe it wasn’t the spin cycle that made their previous kiss so great. Just because they had nothing in common didn’t mean they couldn’t have a physical relationship. No, she didn’t want to be like that with Bare. He deserved better than a fling. She hoped he found someone that really appreciated what a great guy he was. Someone that really enjoyed birds and dancing cows.

Liz O’Hare, a third grade teacher, waddled over and eased herself into a chair. Her friend looked about to pop, nearly eight months pregnant with twin girls. “Are you going to eat that?” she asked Amber, eyeing her small wheel of Babybel cheese.

Amber handed it over. The woman was eating for three.

“Thanks.” Liz emptied her lunch onto the table—chicken sandwich with lettuce and tomato, salad with chopped egg whites on top, strawberries, thermos of milk, and Amber’s cheese.

“What’d I miss?” Liz asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

“Amber’s hung up on the guy she
claims
she’s not interested in,” Steph said.

“Barry?” Liz asked. “He’s nice.”

“Exactly,” Amber said. “He deserves someone nice that will appreciate him.”

“You’re nice enough,” Steph said.

“Gee, thanks,” Amber replied.

“I don’t see the problem,” Steph said. “He’s nice, you get along, so what if he likes birds and cows.” She pressed her lips together and added with the voice of hard experience, “That’s better than what some guys are into.”

Liz dabbed at her milk mustache daintily with a napkin. “I kinda know what Amber means about someone special appreciating him. You haven’t met Barry, Steph, but he’s a little…unusual.”

“Exactly!” Amber said.

“He means well,” Liz went on. “But he’s definitely not who you might dream of as a boyfriend.” She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed. “Not the kind of guy you might crush on for a while and fall head over heels for.” She smiled dreamily, probably thinking of her own dream guy, her husband Ryan.

Amber was willing to admit Bare wasn’t in the same class of hot guy as Ryan, but he did have good qualities, and she didn’t appreciate Liz talking about her friend like that.

“You just have to get to know him,” Amber said. “He’s a nice guy. Smart too.”

“So bang him,” Steph said with a smirk.

“Stephanie!” Liz said. “You’re so crude.”

Steph shrugged one shoulder. “Either she wants to or she doesn’t. If she doesn’t, then it’s friends all the way. It’s not rocket science.”

Amber took a sip of her iced tea and thought about that. “There was one amazing kiss…”

Liz giggled.

Amber’s eyes snapped to hers. “What’s so funny about that?”

“It’s just hard to imagine,” Liz said. “You know, Barry dancing in his cow costume…” She giggled. “Kissing.”

Amber thought back to that kiss. “Well, it was nice,” she said defensively. “Of course, I was sitting on the washing machine on the spin cycle.”

Liz cracked up, one hand on her ginormous belly.

“Shhh!” Amber hissed.

Liz looked contrite and bit her lip in an attempt to stop smiling. “I shouldn’t have laughed. Sorry.”

“We’ve talked about this guy long enough,” Steph said. “Kiss him again without the spin cycle.
Boom.
Simple as that. Now who wants to share a room with me at the Connecticut Core Standards teacher conference in August?”

“I’ll be on maternity leave,” Liz said.

“I don’t have to go,” Amber said. “Art doesn’t change all that much.”

“I hate rooming alone,” Steph said.

“So pick up a hot guy teacher and have a conference fling,” Amber said.

They all laughed at the idea of a hot guy teacher. They were like unicorns. They’d heard they existed, but none of them had ever seen one.

Amber went home after work that day, still unsure what to do about Bare. If she kissed him and it wasn’t great, wasn’t that like encouraging him further? And then she’d have to reject him again and further hurt his feelings. No, better to wait him out. He’d warm up to her again. Soon, she hoped.

She reached her front door and let out a gasp. There was a picnic basket with a bouquet on top in a vase. But the bouquet wasn’t flowers, it was paintbrushes. She bent down. Sable brushes, the highest quality, a dozen of them in different sizes. Omigod. She carefully put the vase to the side and opened up the picnic basket. A bottle of merlot, crackers, and cheeses. All her favorite cheeses—cheddar, Monterey jack, gouda, havarti, baby Swiss. She loved cheese.

She closed the basket with a smile. There was only one person in the entire world that would give her something so thoughtful. She knocked on Bare’s door, holding up the block of Monterey jack. The door swung open. “I got the cheese.”

He smiled and nodded. He wore a loud red Hawaiian shirt, and she tried not to get distracted by it.

“And the paintbrushes,” she said. “I can’t believe you remembered about the sable brushes. And the wine, oh, everything!” She shook her head at him. “What am I going to do with you?”

His voice dropped to a low tone, almost a growl, that made all her good parts start to party. “As much as possible, I hope.”

Look out, Slutty Amber in charge.

She licked her lips and considered testing the no-spin-cycle kiss theory. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He did have nice lips, smooth and full, perpetually curved into a smile. Like now.

“You want to try again?” he asked.

She met his warm brown eyes. “I was thinking about it,” she admitted.

If the next kiss was anything like the first one, she’d gladly go birding every weekend just to get more.

“How about Saturday night?” he asked. “This time you plan the date. Whatever you like to do.”

Oh. He meant a date.
Get your mind out of the gutter.

“Yeah, okay, sure.” She glanced at his mouth again. Maybe they should kiss now just to see if it was really worth the hassle of another date. “I was wondering,” she ventured, “if maybe we should try—”

“The cheeses?” he asked. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I skipped dinner, so I’m good to go.”

“Yes, okay,” she quickly said.

They shared a picnic on her living room coffee table while watching their favorite show
Zombie Bonanza
. After a while, from the wine and the warmth of his body next to hers, Amber got sleepy and curled up against his side as she often did when they watched TV together. He slipped an arm around her, holding her close. She breathed in his fresh ocean scent. She didn’t know if it was his deodorant or cologne or just all of his visits to the beach, but she loved that scent.

She was glad to have Bare back, even if she didn’t know how long he’d end up staying in her life. It all depended, she supposed, on how well their next date went. She yawned. He’d asked her to plan the date. She’d have to show him what was really fun. Maybe that was what went wrong with their first date. Maybe Bare just didn’t know what made a good, non-embarrassing date. He’d said he was rusty. She’d take him to a club. They’d have a few drinks and let loose on the dance floor. A dance club date would be so kickass.

The dance club date was not kickass. Well, actually, it almost was.

It started out with great promise. The pounding bass beat felt like home to Amber as she walked into her favorite club, The Bohemian, in South Norfolk. There was a huge dance floor, a bar done up with a purple gauzy canopy over it, and, instead of chairs, there were giant beanbags to lounge in.

“Kind of a ’60s vibe going on here,” Bare commented. “I like it. Of course, if I’d known it was ’60s themed, I would’ve worn my tie-dye shirt and my dad’s old bellbottoms.”

She tried to cover her look of abject horror with a quick smile. “You look great just like you are.”

Like someone that just stepped out of work on business-casual Friday—button-down blue shirt and khakis. She
had
given him advance warning about the club. When she’d suggested he change, he’d said, “But this is my nicest outfit.”

She hadn’t had the heart to argue.

Now he beamed at her. “You look great too. I like the thigh-high boots and the, uh, half top.”

“Halter top. Thanks.” She figured why get a belly-button piercing if you weren’t going to show it off. “Want a drink?”

“Sure.”

They pushed through the throng of people and made their way to the bar.

“Screaming orgasm?” he asked when they reached the bar.

“Yes, please,” she said with a straight face. It was the drink they’d shared the first night they’d hung out together. Bare brought it up frequently in his joking way.

His lips twitched. “I’ll have the same.”

After they got their drinks, they stayed at the bar for a while sitting side by side on bar stools. Bare peppered her with questions about her latest watercolor paintings. She’d recently had a slew of sales on the eArt website and had been painting a lot more as a result. She loved that he actually cared about her art—he was her biggest cheerleader when she started selling for the first time—but it was difficult to have a conversation with the loud club music.

She finished her drink and turned to him. “Ready?”

He straightened. “We’re leaving already? Just one drink and then”—he gestured toward the exit—“out the door.”

“No, silly. I meant are you ready to dance?”

He glanced over at the dance floor, where a lot of women and a few brave guys were dancing. The women writhed; the men slid their hands all over their partners. Amber loved that. Bare’s head bobbled around, like he couldn’t decide if he was going to nod or shake his head no.