Page 28 of Piggy

Charlotte

The Florida air is thick, like honey sticking to my skin. Grayson and I stand in the humid breeze, wrapped in each other, the sun bleeding orange and red across the sky.

“I can’t believe we have been together a whole month,” I say, reaching up on my tiptoes.

He leans down, lips already curved in that cocky, heart-melting smirk. Our mouths meet, his big tongue teasing mine. His cologne seeps into my nose. His arms cage me close, all muscle and heat, and I swear I could melt right into him.

I love him so much that I still get these crazy butterflies! Gosh, I am lucky.

When our lips part, I trail my fingertips down his abs, loving that I get to touch him now. All mine. I try not to look too giddy, but it’s hard to hide.

‘Cause he’s my boyfriend .

I force my smile down some, so I don’t look too stupid. I say with simmering excitement, “And now, this is my first day in EMT training. I can’t believe how much my life is changing.”

He grins, but just pats my head like I’m a proud little pup. I swat his arm, laughing.

I give him one last hug, then beam once more before facing the ominous building. A pit swells in my stomach.

Softly, I mumble, more to myself, “I hope I don’t fail.”

But he hears it.

“You can do this, babe. You will do fine,” he assures, far more confident than me. “Go on. Go inside.”

But before I head for the doors, I hesitate.

I glance back at him. “Thanks for driving me today. I hope my car doesn’t need new tires. That would be expensive.”

“You won’t. Kids probably let the air out last night while we slept. A prank. But hey, at least I got to see where you are going to school. You sure Keysha’s picking you up? I don’t mind leaving work early.”

His voice dips when he says it, quietly protective.

“Oh! No, no. She promised to pick me up today. Thanks, though.”

I step forward.

I stop again.

“Do I look okay?” I turn to face him and fidget, pinching at my clothes as I survey myself.

His eyes roam down my body, then up again, unreadable. “You look like you. ”

“That good or bad?”

He sighs, cups my cheek, and tucks a sleek honey-blonde strand behind my ear. “Charlotte, you really don’t need this fake hair. You were beautiful without it.”

My cheeks burn, but I reply softly, “I feel prettier with straight hair.”

Then, his fingertips pluck the neckline of my shirt, tugging it up to better cover my cleavage. “And you don’t need to show off your tits.”

I frown, my nervousness building. I wince, thinking of Meghan’s brutal insults. “So... I don’t look good?”

He crouches to meet my gaze head-on. “You’re gorgeous. You don’t need to try so hard. Just be you.”

I blink, and something aches in my chest. It’s like he sees me, the real me, yet still wants me.

But maybe he doesn’t see the real me. I fooled him somehow.

He spins me toward the entrance. His body brushes mine, solid and grounding. I lean back, needing him a second longer.

But he nudges me forward. “Go.”

“Oh! I forgot my lunch!”

He opens his wallet and pulls out some money. “Here. Buy lunch.” He glances at a nearby restaurant and points. “There. Mexican. You love tacos.”

I grin, bashful. “Thank you,” I whisper, and put the money in my bag.

But something nags at me. He shouldn’t have this much cash left. Not after bills. He’s been working overtime to keep the house from foreclosure, scraping by until payday.

Suddenly, Grayson kisses the top of my head, murmurs “Love you,” and gives me a bigger nudge forward, snapping me from my thoughts.

“Love you, too,” I squeak and nervously, I walk.

Just as I am about to enter through the glass doors, I look back. Across the parking lot, he stands by his truck and lifts his chin, then gestures for me to keep moving. I chuckle and give him a final wave.

He’s not just hot. He’s mine. He’s loving. And he’s making sure I don’t run from this opportunity. I just don’t know how I got so lucky.

Holy shit , that was hard.

I collapse onto the curb, completely exhausted from my first day. My back aches. My brain’s mush. Medical stuff is so damn technical. Nothing like working a register or folding novelty shirts.

Buzz, buzz.

I glance at my phone.

Grayson

Have a good first day? Miss u bab e

Just then, Keysha pulls up, blasting some Kendrick Lamar, All the Stars . I sling my bag onto my shoulder, it might as well be filled with bricks, and trudge toward her car.

“Hey, girl! Well? How was it?”

I shrug and bite my bottom lip, then blurt, “I am a little overwhelmed.”

“It’s just new,” she says, tossing a glance into the rearview. She’s practically bald now. Platinum blond, flawless dark skin, those big eyes that make her look like a model. Jealous is an understatement.

“Let’s grab a drink to celebrate,” she says. “You can meet this guy I’m seeing. It’ll help you unwind.”

It’s only five. Grayson won’t be home until ten. The thought of going home alone sounds depressing.

“Sure,” I say. “Why not?”

And soon, we’re at the bar. It’s dim, sticky, and loud with weird Irish music playing low in the background. Deckhands fill the space. Not gonna lie, these guys... they are mostly young, carefree, and fit. And there are a lot of them.

We take our seats at a pub table and meet Keysha’s new beau, Holden, one of the good looking deck hands.

He wears tan overalls from working a shrimp boat. Handsome guy. Black, lean, small fro, narrow face, and big luscious lips.

That smile. Gosh, he has perfect teeth, too.

And Keysha ?

She is smitten, laughing at everything he says, rolling her eyes playfully at his jokes, and even holding his hand across the table.

Dang. I wish Grayson was here.

Better text him.

Training was kind of hard but having drink with Keysha to celebrate. Miss u too! Ill be home before u r off work. Cant wait 2 see u!

I slip my phone into my jeans pocket, knowing he won’t reply until after—

Buzz, buzz.

Grayson

What bar?

My stomach flips.

“Here ya go,” says our server, setting down a mug in front of me.

Keysha lifts her drink. “No phones, Charlotte! Relax. Cheers to day one of your badass future!”

We clink our drinks.

I sip my beer. Gross . But not long after, I start to feel my stress lift.

An hour later, I love beer.

What stress ?

And that’s when I meet him . Tall, built, and tan. Blond hair, deep green eyes, and dimples. He still wears his work clothes, including those brown sea boots that go up to his knee. His arms are painted with nautical tattoos as well. And that deckhand aura that says: I’m that kind of fun.

Hot.

Not as hot as Grayson, but still.

He doesn’t even ask and drops into the chair, leans forward, and flashes me a slow, knowing smile.

“Hey there, pretty girl.”