The next day, my soreness was somehow worse than it ever before, and I could barely limp to the bathroom, let alone downstairs to get breakfast. Thankfully, Sal brought me some blueberry pancakes and a lukewarm cappuccino.
"Thank you so much; you're a doll," I said, cutting into the fluffy pastry eagerly.
"You'll probably be fine by tomorrow; hard workouts always hit you the most two days afterward."
"A day on the slopes is hardly a workout," I mumbled bashfully.
He didn't respond, probably not wanting to hurt my feelings, but, with a body like his, he wouldn't break a sweat skiing for a few hours. "Sorry the coffee's cold," he said finally.
"Oh, it's fine, I wasn't expecting anything, so this is incredible."
"You always made great coffee."
For some reason, his words made my cheeks go pink, perhaps the way he said with such reverence, almost longing, as though the memory of me living at home and making him coffee after a late night bartending was something he turned back to often as a form of comfort. "Is it horrible that I can't wait to go home and put this whole stupid holiday behind me?"
"No, it's not weird..." He trailed off, eyes glazing over. "I just- I figured you were having a pretty decent time, from the look of things."
When I realized he was referring to my tryst with Billy, I felt humiliated, but then I became enraged. How dare he judge me for who I chose to sleep with? If he just talked to me about it, he'd know that the past couple days hadn't been a walk in the park, no matter what it looked like. Did he think that hooking up with a seventeen-year-old in secret was my idea of romance? "What do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean."
"I want to hear you say it. At least give me that dignity."
He stood up from the bed, pacing a few feet before turning around, nostrils flaring. "What am I supposed to say? How do you expect me to react when you're slinking off to screw around with that dickhead?"
"You don't even know him!"
"I don't 'know him'?" He laughed cruelly. "I'm not your dad, I don't need that kind of excuse. I don't need to know him to know his age. "
"I met him at Leila's Bar my first day back from Augustananna, things just happened."
"Well, now he's your student, and you should break it off."
Standing up, I took a decisive step towards him, arms crossed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."
"Jealous of what?"
"Of him! Of us!" I shouted. "You like me, I know you do, just admit it!"
Sal grabbed my face, kissing me passionately. He caught me off-guard, so I didn't react in kind, his mouth moving across mine awkwardly. Finally, he pulled away, keeping his face close to mine, brows pinched together in confusion, whether that feeling was directed to my flaccid response or his own actions, I couldn't tell. "I'm sorry," he said, backing up. "You don't actually want me; you were just trying to push my buttons-"
"No, I do, or I did..." I sat back down, my leg muscles aching almost as bad as my head, which throbbing harder with every passing second. "I'm just a little surprised; this is all happening so fast."
"I shouldn't have sprung that on you, I just-" He knelt down, taking my hands, making me look in those beautiful, seafoam eyes. "Billy's attraction to you isn't a rarity; you're beautiful."
My mouth fell open like a goddamn codfish. After a brief, awkward pause, Sal stood up, muttering something about giving me some space. It wasn't until he left that I realized I wanted him to stay.
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Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic
Fanfiction"Deborah Harrington, like Debbie Harry?" I rolled my eyes, never heard that one before.