Page 37 of Ruining Hattie

BASTION

A few weeks have passed since I first fucked Hattie, and I loathe to admit that I’m enjoying having her in my bed every night. And not just for the sex. Her company is a breath of fresh air, and she’s funny—mostly when she’s not trying to be.

I wait outside of the soup kitchen for her. She gave me directions, and I pretended I needed them. The deceit is lingering a little longer inside me lately, though.

She pushes the door open, but she’s looking down into her bag. When she raises her head, looking for me, I instantly see that something is wrong.

My body goes on alert. “What’s going on?” I approach her.

She shakes her head. “Nothing, let’s get out of here.” She attempts to walk past me, but I take her hand, pulling her to a stop.

“What happened?” I brush my thumb over her hand, and her bottom lip shakes.

I don’t know who made her this upset, but whoever did is about to be very sorry when I’m done with them.

“I thought I was making friends in there with some of the people I attend service with who volunteer too. Today, a new girl joined us. She asked where I work, and for the first time, I didn’t avoid the question or just say I’m an administrator or something.

” She shakes her head, and her hazel eyes grow glossy.

“I told them where I work, and you should have seen the looks on their faces. It was like I was disgusting to them, even though two minutes earlier they were so nice and treating me like I was one of them.”

I frown, seeing how much this is affecting her, and I pull her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, babe. People can be judgmental fucks.”

She nods into my chest and wraps her arms around me, her body relaxing. My chest squeezes at how good it feels to be the one to give her comfort.

“At first, I thought that maybe they thought I was a stripper, but I made it clear what I did, and they still looked at me with such judgment. They didn’t talk to me the rest of the afternoon.

” She pulls away and looks up at me, her sadness morphing into anger.

“And even if I was a dancer, who cares? I still attend church with them, still have morals and values, and am volunteering my time alongside them.”

“Damn straight.” I like this fight I’m seeing in her. Probably a little too much. I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear and take her hand, leading her in the direction we need to head.

“I swear, Bast, sometimes I feel like everything is upside down from what I thought it was. When I told Renee and Paige about how I was raised in the church and what that meant for me, they didn’t bat an eye.

They asked me some questions because they were curious, but they didn’t judge me…

at all. And when I think back on it, I’m pretty sure I’ve been judged more by my fellow churchgoers than anyone else in my life.

That’s why I tried so hard for so long to keep my desire for adventure and new things under wraps. ”

I squeeze her hand as we cross the street. “No one has any right to judge you, Hattie. Not if they know you. You’re the best of what this world has to offer, that’s for damn sure.”

The words pour out of my mouth before I consider them. They’re not part of some scheme to make Hattie fall for me. I realize they’re how I actually feel. I’m ignoring what that means right now.

The knowledge rocks me to my core. Where is all the animosity and bitterness I felt for this woman? Do I need to unearth it like a corpse so I can keep my head on straight?

“Thank you, Bast. That means a lot coming from you. You always know how to make me feel better.”

Damn, that Superman complex is a real thing, huh?

We approach our destination, and I tug her to a stop, pulling her in by the waist, needing my lips on hers. When I place my hands on either side of her face, I notice the sun brings out the gold flecks in her hazel eyes. I bend down and bring my lips to hers, but she pulls away.

“What if someone sees us?”

I shrug. “I don’t care. Do you?”

Her head rocks back and forth. “I don’t love the idea of people at work thinking I only have my job because we’re sleeping together or something, but beyond that, no, I don’t care.”

Guilt snakes through my veins. She doesn’t have her job because she was sleeping with me when I offered it to her, but she does have it for another reason that doesn’t have much to do with her skill, although she’s shocked even me with how good at her job she is.

“If anyone at the club has something to say, send them my way.” I pull her back into me and kiss her, not caring who sees.

Three hours later, we leave Von’s, and both of us are pretty tipsy.

Well, I’m tipsy. Hattie seems like she’s moving into the steadily drunk area.

Tonight was her first night drinking hard liquor.

She was game to try almost anything, so we picked a bunch of things off the menu and had a liquid dinner.

We ordered food, but it sat mostly untouched in favor of the alcohol.

I’m getting a glimpse of what Hattie is like when her walls are down and she’s had a few drinks, and I understand better why she acted the way she did the night she burst into my office, demanding to know the nature of my relationship with Steph.

We hold hands as we walk down the sidewalk, and she swings our arms between us like a child might do to their parent if they were holding hands.

“That was so much fun! I want to do it again!”

I give her an amused grin. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning when you have to get up for work.”

She guffaws. “Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”

“You say that now.”

“I’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

I laugh and keep walking, but she pulls me to a stop. When I turn to look at her, she’s staring across the street.

“What?” I ask, unsure what she’s staring at wide-eyed.

“It’s a country bar! Oh my god, Bast, I haven’t been to one like that since I was in college. Can we go?” She puts her hands in a prayer pose. “Please? Can we?”

“What the lady wants, the lady gets.” I lead her by the hand over to the curb. “Let’s go.”

We enter the bar, and it’s pretty much what I would expect from a country western bar—lots of wood, a decent-sized dance floor though there doesn’t appear to be any line dancing going on, and a live band on stage.

I notice an empty table for two at the edge of the dance floor, and I point it out to Hattie before guiding her over there.

It’s clear as soon as we sit down that she’s ecstatic.

The server comes over to take our drink order, and though I suggest maybe she sit this one out, Hattie insists on ordering a beer—her first apparently—and I do the same.

Once the server walks away, she leans in over the table and speaks loudly enough so I can hear her.

“I feel like I’m back in college. I never drank when I went, but there was a place just off campus that had a really great live band and played all my favorites.

I haven’t been to a place like this since I lived in Tennessee. ”

“When was that, six months ago?” I chuckle.

She rolls her eyes at me. “We can’t all be your age, Grandpa.”

The laugh that barks out of me is a surprise.

The band starts a new song, and Hattie claps excitedly. She sings along at the top of her lungs, loudly enough that I can hear her clearly.

Earlier tonight she told me that she was never a part of the church choir because she can’t sing worth shit (her words, not mine). Turns out she’s right. But it’s still cute as fuck to see her not have a care in the world as she sings along, having the time of her life.

The server returns with our drinks, and we clink the necks of the bottles, each taking a sip. Hattie’s face contorts in disgust, and after she swallows, she does a whole body shake.

“I think I found the first kind of alcohol I don’t like.” She stares at the bottle as though it’s personally offended her, and I can’t help but smile.

“Just set it on the table and don’t drink it then.” I’m going to have to carry her home if she has much more anyway.

Hattie looks at me like “as if” and takes another swig. I can only shake my head and laugh.

“So do you think you’ll go back to that church again after today, or will you try to find another one?”

She considers it for a moment. “I think maybe I’m done with church for a bit.

I feel like I need to develop my own relationship with God separate from organized religion.

” She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll go back at some point and find a community again, but for now, this is what feels right. ”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised. I open my mouth to tell her just that, but before I can, the band changes the song, and Hattie bolts up out of her seat. “We have to dance!”

I raise my hands and shake my head. “No way.”

She pouts, and if it were anything but dancing, I might give in. But as bad as Hattie is at singing, I am the equivalent at dancing. Hattie comes around the table and reaches for my hand, trying to drag me out of the chair, but I remain where I am.

“I’m gonna sit this one out. You go, have fun. I’ll watch.”

She pouts some more but does just that. “Your loss.”

Watching her from our table turns out to be the better end of the deal by far.

She’s out there laughing and dancing around, having fun.

At one point, she’s welcomed into a group of other women when they notice that she’s by herself.

The joy I see on her face does something to me.

I get this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’ve never felt.

The hell if I’m going to examine it too closely.

Then I see a man who’s probably closer to Hattie’s age than my own come up behind her and set his hand on her hip. I know exactly what to name this emotion—blind jealousy.