It occurs to me that I hoped it would be Connor Crossbow. In a faded pair of jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt and boots. Tattoos. Rings on his fingers.
They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Yeah, well, everyone does it. Pete makes for a nice vanilla cover. Socially acceptable. Polite. A doctor. That’s what I want.
Renne is a distant memory, a stupid girl who tangled with Connor, but since he and I agreed that was a one-time thing, we’re over. Ekatia is the woman I need to be for my daughter, and Ekatia likes Pete.
“Wow, Ekatia, you look stunning,” he says.
“Thank you. You too.”
I grab my purse and close the door behind me, expecting Pete to head back to the car, but he blocks my path. We stand, facing each other, and his eyes hood when he looks at me.
“I think we should just go back to my place.”
I shrug. “That’s fine.”
“But I already bought the movie tickets and made reservations.”
“Whatever you want.”
“What doyouwant?” he asks.
“I’m fine either way.”
“Hmm.”
I smile up at him, hoping he’ll decide soon.
He tilts his head and seems as if he’ll kiss me. I close my eyes, and Connor’s face pops into my head when Pete pecks the corner of my mouth.
“You’re so hot,” he whispers. “The long hair suits you.” He runs his fingers through it and tugs. I don’t want my extensions yanked out, and for some awkward reason, the tug feels unwelcome. I don’t usually mind guys yanking my hair. I frown at my reaction and step away from him.
I want to go out with him for myself and for my daughter. Ekatia (it’s so strange to think about myself in third person, but that’s what this new persona feels like) is a nice girl with a stable job and a child. Renne is a wild woman with her hair down every day when she gets off from the job she works three twelve-hour days a week. Renne parties hard and works hard. Ekatia is more balanced. Structured. Or at least I’m trying to be.
I hook my hand under Pete’s elbow and rub his shoulder on the way to the car. Good. This is good. He works out and flexes his biceps under my touch. It’s cute how he tries to impress me. I like it.
I sit in his beautiful sports car, which is drenched in car freshener paired with men’s light cologne, and we take off toward the city.
“Which movie are we going to see?” I ask.
“Yord’s Yard.”
“What’s it about?”
“A derby horse. Ever heard of her?”
I shake my head.
“I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” He pats my thigh.
I frown, not liking how that makes me feel. “After the movie, I will have heard of the derby horse.”
Pete launches into the history of Yord’s Yard, namely the significance of the horse. Even though I would’ve preferred a different movie, like maybe a thriller, suspense, or mystery, I’ll watch anything that’s good and eat my popcorn.
At the counter, Pete orders a drink.
I get a drink too and add a medium popcorn with extra butter.
Pete pays for it and passes me the napkins, and we head to theater number ten.