Touch Me, Daddy

3 - Greg.

I have a sigh of relief when after the fourth ring Kya picks up, her voice solemn. "Hello?"

"Kya, what is the matter?" I ask quietly.

It's been very weird between us this past month. Our relationship had been on smooth sailing. Late date nights, trips to the beach, grabbing ice-cream together after her shift at Sofia Cafe, and even hiking. Then we'd schepple back home for mind-boggling s*x, then leave each other in the morning with a goodbye kiss.

But ever since the month began, everything took a turn for the worst.

I'm trying to keep afloat, but it's affecting my well-being. I love Kya. I love her a lot. "You didn't even say goodbye this morning. What have I done this time? Why are you torturing me?"

"Greg, please," she sighs. "I'm not torturing you. I...you don't understand. Work these days..."

"Don't give me that excuse," I cut her off, my voice thickening. "This has nothing to do with your job, and you know it."

She stays silent for a few minutes, the wall that's been building since the month began more suffocating and taller between us. In all our five years of being together, I've never heard her become so quiet. It's unnerving. "You know you can tell me anything right? Please. Talk to me."

"You won't understand."

"I will," I push gently. "Trust me, I'll take anything you tell me - "

"I don't love you, Greg," her voice shakes, and I realize she sounds like she's been crying. "Don't get me wrong, these past few years of us being together has been nothing short of the best. But I don't love you. I tried, but I couldn't. It's not your fault."

My heart shatters into a million pieces. "I...I can't believe this..."

"Please don't take this the wrong way."

"Why - "

"Tessa is the right one for you. Since the day you moved into Woodstock, she's been head over heels in love with you. I see it in her eyes whenever she looks at you. Hear it in her tone too. She's the better one for you."

"Are you hearing yourself?" I exhale. "Kya, come on. Give me a break...Tessa and I...we're just friends."

"You two will be great together. Open your heart to her. Please."

"Kya..."

"I have to go now, Greg. Please have a nice life. I'll be leaving Woodstock today. Goodbye."

Before I could speak, she hangs up, leaving me battered more than ever.

-------------------------------

The sky is bruised purple by the time Tessa cycles up the driveway, wheels squeaking and chain rattling, her backpack slumping to one side on her slender shoulders. Those cheeks are pink and her forehead is dewy with sweat. Strands of her black hair have escaped her topknot in a frizzy, wild halo, because it's hot work doing anything in Woodstock in the summer, let alone biking home after a long, hard shift at the cafe.

I haven't stopped crying ever since Kya hung up. I keep replaying the conversation we had, over and over in my mind. Have I truly been blinded by my love for Kya, that I failed to see that Tessa cared so much for me? She's always at the counter at Sofi Cafe, ready to serve me, laughing at my jokes, and asking about my well-being. How could I have failed to see that she truly cared?

Now, looking at her as she came up the driveway, her lips curved in an adorable pout, my heart can't help but melt.

So many times, I've wanted to collect her from work even though it's not dark out yet and I've got no excuse. What would Tessa do if I just turned up anyway? If I tossed her on the back of my bike, or better yet, if I slung her over my shoulder and walked her home, carried aloft the whole way? Tickling the backs of her legs and bouncing her soft body on my shoulder?

My sweet little neighbor would probably scream to be let down, and then she'd never trust me again. She'd be wary of me, checking the driveway to make sure I'm not out there before running to grab her bike and get to work. She'd judge me, and she'd be right.

Not an option.

I'd die if Tessa was ever scared of me. If she ever looked at me with disgust.

And let's face it—I'm enough of a brute that it's a miracle that Tessa trusts me the way she does. It took me by surprise at first, when I moved in next door and instead of being skittish of the big, rough biker, she, along with Kya were the kindest of all the townspeople.

Tessa is more than beautiful. A sugar hit in tight shorts and strappy vest tops. Way too young for me.

I should be ashamed. But I'm not.

She stays alone and is ripe for plucking.

Sweet. Young. Vulnerable.

And so f*****g tempting.

I won't touch her, obviously. But I won't let any other assholes lay a hand on her, either, not without her permission. That's what I can do for her.

I can protect Tessa like she really is my girl. Like she's the center of my world. It's not a big leap.

I wish Kya all the happiness in the world. It's time I move on.

"Hey, Mr. Hampton."

She's so damn cute calling me that. Acting like I'm a respectable man and not a great rough lump in biking leathers. Tessa gives me a tired smile as she rolls her squeaky bike up the driveway, the frame wobbling as she lets go of one handle to swipe her forehead with her wrist.

Did she really want to get a drink with me earlier? All the air went out of her when I said mentioned going out with Kya.

What if she was...jealous?

No. No, those are crazy thoughts. Tessa adored Kya. She would never be jealous of her.

But Tessa liked me a lot too.

"Did something happen? Your eyes are red." She rummages in her backpack for her keys, her head tipped to one side like she can hear them clinking.

"Yeah. Well." I rub my eyes, mentally kicking myself for crying over Kya for hours. She's gone, and she never loved me. "Was just having a weird day. That's all."

Tessa's smile is warm, but there's something different about her tonight. She seems... fragile. Deep shadows cling beneath her eyes, and when she can't find her keys, her eyelids flutter closed with bone-deep exhaustion. She keeps rummaging.

"Hey. I got it, honey."

Scrubbing harder at my hands, I stride over, chest tight. Tessa's not my business, not really, but I can't help myself. Shoving the rag in my back pocket, I lift her backpack away.

She leans against her front door as I search, eyes still closed. Her head tips back against the painted wood; her arms wrap around her waist. What's going on in that brain?

"How was you shift today?" I sift past a travel-sized hairbrush and a rattling box of breath mints. A bottle of water and a cardboard packet of painkillers. Sunscreen and a raspberry and yogurt cereal bar.

Tessa lifts a shoulder, eyes still closed. She hums. "Not totally bad."

Maybe it was that suit guy. f**k, I should've kicked his ass for barking at her like that. Should've thrown him out onto the dusty sidewalk on his ear. But Tessa seemed to be handling it just fine, and I didn't want to cause her any stress; didn't want to give her any reason to think of me as a bruiser.

"Found 'em." We breathe out matching sighs of relief as I hand over her keys. They drop into her palm, the metal scratched and shiny, and her hand is so small next to mine. "You want me to lock up your bike? We can keep it in my garage overnight."

Tessa chews on her lip, glancing over at the warm light spilling through my garage door, shadows pooling around the half-fixed motorbike in the driveway. I know what she's thinking: how it'll only save her a few minutes, but she's so tired she's struggling to resist.

Her mouth twists. "You sure? I don't want to be any trouble."

"You're not." She never could be. "I'll be up early to work out here anyway."

Let that be the reason Tessa thinks I don't want to share a drink. Not her. Never her.

The street is quiet. Out in the desert wastes, insects shiver.

"Maybe you should turn in early. Seems like you need it, and you could get a few extra hours of sleep."

And lord, what I'd give to be the one to tuck her in. To see the inside of her bedroom; to feel the soft cotton of her pajamas. To draw the blankets up to Tessa's chin and brush a bristly kiss on her forehead, and leave her a glass of cool water on her nightstand.

But she's giving me a strange look, her dark brows pinching together, and f**k, I've said too much somehow. I've let my honest thoughts crowd onto my face.

I clear my throat and take her bike then turn away, wheeling it back across the driveway.

"Maybe I will," Tessa says, so soft I almost don't hear it. "Thanks, Mr. Hampton."

I don't look back. Ruddy cheeks hot beneath my beard, I steer her bike safely inside my garage.