Cheesy on the Eyes by Teagan Hunter Page 0,8
Maybe you should finally hit the can, and I promise to check you out on your way through. If I’m still here when you get back, consider yourself a worthy candidate for my sexcapades.”
I laugh, shaking my head. But seriously…I do have to take a leak.
I don’t dawdle in the bathroom, relieving myself as fast as I can and making my way back to the table, not wanting to miss a second of her banter.
Except the booth is empty when I get back.
She’s gone, and so is the pizza.
There’s nothing but a hasty note scrawled across a napkin.
You just saved my ass more than you’ll ever know.
Call me sometime?
XOXO
Thea
910-555-0321
She left her number.
I grin but try to school my features.
After all, I have a part to play, and I can feel Jaden’s eyes on me. I should probably be annoyed my girlfriend just dashed out of here, not smiling.
I give Jaden a wave, rolling my eyes and gesturing in a vague fashion. “Women,” I explain.
He laughs, because he’s that douchebag, and I take my chance to hightail it out of there, hoping to catch my mystery woman in the parking lot.
Who the hell are you, Thea Schwartz?
Slice Three
Thea
“Mom! Pops! I come bearing treats!”
I stride through the front door of my childhood home, not bothering to knock because even though I might have moved out when I was eighteen, this will always be my home.
My parents texted while Sully was in the bathroom, telling me they wanted to talk.
I didn’t waste another second before bolting out of there. I felt bad for leaving him hanging, but I did not want to risk having to talk to Jaden again. I’m horrible at lying, and he’s just the person who’d be able to see through our charade.
At least I jotted down my number right before making my getaway. Now it’s up to him to use it, and I’m kind of hoping he didn’t find me too crazy and does.
Because Sully’s ass? Yeah, I’d bet a hundred bucks that guy never skips leg day.
He seemed fun, laid-back, the kind of guy who could be looking for what I am—a good romp in the sheets. I don’t want anything serious—I’m not ready for that—but having a little fun never hurt anyone, right?
I make my way to the kitchen, stopping to look at the pictures adorning the walls, the images of me and Jonas through all our different stages of life.
I smile when I see him holding up his first football trophy. Who would’ve thought all these years later he’d be playing pro ball? I sure as hell didn’t, especially not with how much he struggled at first. I couldn’t be prouder of my little bro, though. He might still annoy me whenever he’s home, but I don’t mind claiming the dork as kin.
Besides, it helps me score major points with the dudes on dating apps, and lord knows I could use all the help in the world in that department.
It’s hard to find someone in general, especially after getting your heart eviscerated, but small-town dating? Damn do I have my work cut out for me. You either grew up with every eligible bachelor and know exactly why they’re still a bachelor, or you scare off the transplants when you dish details about your personal life—or at least that’s my problem.
It might sound stupid, but every guy I’ve tried to date has always had something to say about my career choice.
“You’re a mechanic? Isn’t that, like, a man’s job?”
“Female mechanic? Is that even a thing?”
My personal favorite was when we got a flat on the way to dinner: “I’ve got this. No way I’m being shown up by some chick.”
It’s the same shit over and over again. Hell, even toward the end, Jaden started making snide comments about my job.
“I hate when you come home smelling like grease. It reminds me of a man. You’re starting to make me feel like the girl in this relationship.”
Because for some reason I can’t possibly have a vagina and like working on cars. If I have boobs, I must only enjoy things like beauty pageants and staying home to bake cakes.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with either of those things, but they aren’t my things. I should be able to have my own interests no matter my gender.
I shove my thoughts away, tucking them safely back in my Woe Is Me box, and paste on a bright smile for my parents.
Except when I round the corner to the kitchen,