Waiting To Exhale

Four

I wake up Sunday morning to the revolting smell of beer. My stomach grumbles and after a pointless search of the fridge, I realized I need to take a trip down to the corner store. I slip on a pair of blue shorts one size too big and a t-shirt and old flip-flops. I'm skinny so my shorts don't look like I'm desperate for attention. I have Mason's number tucked away in my pocket. I fumble with it on my way to the store.

The store is empty this early in the morning. I comb through the shelves picking up a pack of baloney and bread. I treat myself to a zebra cake since I deserve it and it's only 50 cents.

"Hello, Olivia."

"Good morning Joe. How's the baby? Your wife?"

He claps his hands dramatically. "Ah, the baby is perfect. A beautiful baby boy. Ethan. And my wife, she's healing well." Joe is an old Asian-American guy. He's kind to me. He's my only friend. It's embarrassing to admit but it's true. His wife (who is American) just had a baby and from what he's told me there were some complications with her pregnancy. Glad to hear the baby and Melinda are doing fine.

We talk for a while after. He asks me how Gabriel's doing and I lie and tell him he's doing fine. I can't talk to anyone about what's going on because I risk being thrown into the system. I don't want to be in foster care. My life is hard enough already.

The walk back to the house is silent, or at least it was until a shiny red car pulls up beside me. I know who it is even before I look in. I'm greeted with a genuine smile. A smile that just makes me want to melt. He's dressed in a white wifebeater and basketball shorts. He looks like he just came from a workout. I bet he did. He has the body of an athlete. I bet he is one.

"Get in." His voice is smooth and despite his choice of words, not at all demanding. The skepticism must be clear on my face because he says, "I promise I won't bite, not unless you want me to." He winks and bites his bottom lip. I smile despite how much I wish I hadn't.

He leans over and opens the door. Smirking, "you're not going to leave me hanging, are you? I just want to take you out to eat if you're hungry. Then to the beach. Neither places are far from here if that's what you're worried about."

I grip the bag in my hand, holding it up for him to get a good look at.

"I already have food."

"Look, I'm trying here. Let me take you out."

As we drive through the busy streets Mason does most of the talking. I don't know what to say to him. I've never been in the front seat of a guy's car. An expensive car.

I settle for a whopper and fries with a drink. He compliments my taste, which makes me feel good for some stupid reason. I know he's just saying that to protect my feelings. He seems like the type of guy to take a girl to an expensive restaurant. Not a fast-food joint. I can barely contain myself around him. He compliments my looks and things I share with him more times than I've heard in my entire life. He's being sweet to me and I can't figure out why. He can have many other girls.

He's sexy.

He has money.

He has it all.

I have nothing. I'm nothing. He shouldn't be trying to pursue a girl like me, for whatever reason. I'm damaged and come with too much baggage. Plus I latch on to people too easily. I guess you can say I'm desperate.

I want to feel love. I want to know what love is.

Maybe I should give Mason a chance. If he's genuinely interested in me. I want him so bad. I don't want there to be any hidden motives that could devastate me. I want everything to be genuine.

"Tell me something about yourself. What kind of things do you like?"

"I don't really know. I don't get out much." I confess.

He smiles that beautiful smile of his. "That's okay. We can figure that out together if you want."

"I'd like that."

He smiles at me. The beach is nearly vacant since it's so early, which I'm thankful for. I don't want anyone to see me next to him in these raggedy clothes. At least he's wearing slides instead of something from his expensive display of Jordans and Nikes (at least I'm guessing he has an expensive display). I wouldn't put it past him.

As we walk he tells me about his childhood. He has fourteen siblings, three on his mom's side. He didn't meet his father until he was sixteen. The two of them have a pretty good relationship but not as good as it could have been, had his father been there. On the other hand, He gets along just fine with his siblings.

I ask him how he can afford such a nice car and he tells me he's a construction worker. His dad got him the job. He's a grown man. I'm a little girl. I'm afraid to tell him. He might not ever want to speak to me again. He seems interested in me and I don't want to ruin it. I'll probably make it worse if I don't tell him.

"I'm only fifteen. I had no idea how old you were. You should just take me back where you found me." I blurt out.

There's a long silence between us. I know I messed up. I should have just kept my big mouth shut. I know he's never going to talk to me again. He can go to jail or lose his job. I'm not worth all the trouble. Why can't I just be a little older? Why not he be a little younger? I should have just said no and stood my ground when he wanted to bring me here.

He places a warm and on my lower back. "You're more mature than most women ten times your age. If I'm going to start anything with you I need to know that I have your consent. I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you or that you don't have a choice because you do."

He's so sweet. "You have my consent."