Danielle
The washcloth hits the laundry basket with a splat. I still smell like him. His scent is in my hair, on my skin, and now on the washcloth in my hamper from cleansing between my legs.
I should take a shower, but I don’t. Not yet. I just want to feel this little buzz a while longer. I thought maybe when I took off my clothes and put on a robe some of it would vanish, but it didn’t. I’m still soaked in Lincoln Landry.
My phone rings in the kitchen and I tighten the tie around my waist and nearly skip in there. I swipe it on with a smile when I see it’s Macie.
“Hey,” I say happily.
“Wow. What’s that all about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you get laid?”
My laugh probably confirms something of the sort, but I don’t care. I usually try to keep some of my intimate moments private, even from Macie, but not this one. It needs celebrated.
“You did!” she exclaims. “It was by the baseball god, right? Please, please let it have been by the baseball god. And please have taken pictures because I want to see his body. I mean, I’ve seen it online without a shirt, but there are things I’d like to know, and I’m not even sorry I’m saying that about your potential man because whoa.”
“Breathe!” I laugh.
“I’ll breathe. You talk.”
“Okay. Yeah, it was Lincoln. But we didn’t have sex,” I tell her. “He just fingered me.”
“Like in middle school?” she giggles.
“This was nothing like that,” I point out. “There was no fumbling, no searching for my clit. Lincoln knew exactly what he was doing.” I sigh dreamily. I can’t help it. “I mean, it was the most spontaneous, carnal thing I’ve done in a long time.”
“So, details! Fork ’em over, Danielle.”
“Lincoln asked me to dinner and I said no. Then he wanted to go play catch and I couldn’t think of a reason not to meet Lincoln—”
“You do realize you’ve said his name like five times in this conversation, right?”
“I have not!”
“You have too!” She smacks her lips together. “You’re there, that point where you just want to say his name in a sentence.”
“That’s not true.”
“That is so, so true,” she laughs. “It’s cute, actually.”
I think about that. If it is true, how am I going to feel when this high wears off? I can’t get in over my head here, and I’m aware just how easy that is to do. It’s how I do everything, really. I move fast and hard. My therapist told me when I was younger that I wanted someone to love me because I felt neglected by my parents. That I needed someone to protect me from them, not physically, but emotionally. I don’t think that’s true. I don’t search out friendships or relationships. Do I want to connect with someone? Absolutely. But do I bend over backwards for it? No. Still, when I commit, when I go down that rabbit hole, I spiral into the darkness with no parachute. There’s no way I’d survive Lincoln Landry.
“So . . . details!” Macie insists. I fill her in on all the things I can make myself say out loud, much to her amusement. “I knew he’d know what he was doing, you lucky duck.”
Blowing out a breath, I find myself settling a little. “You know what the scary part is?”
“What’s that?”
“That he’s fun to talk to,” I admit. “He doesn’t take himself too seriously and asks questions and seems to care about what I say. He’s . . . dangerous to my health,” I laugh.
“I think he’s perfect for your health. You deserve to have fun, Danielle. Lincoln Landry seems like the answer to your problems.”
“Or more problems,” I sigh. Already, I want to see him again. I want to hear his voice and smell his cologne and hear him laugh. I want to feel his touch and make him smile and that . . . Is. Not. Good.
“You still here?” Macie asks.
“Yeah, I’m here.” I chew on a snagged fingernail. “What’s happening with you today?”
She pauses, like she’s trying to figure out whether to steer me back to the topic at hand or let me change it. Thankfully, she rolls with me. “Not much. Will is training tonight. They got a new guy in named Pike from somewhere in the South. His accent though,” she whistles. “Anyway, he’s just training for a few weeks. They think he’s going to be something, I guess. It’s all I hear about right now.”
“Better than baseball.”
“Truth,” she laughs. “So, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”
I shrug. “Probably the same as always.”
“Want to come to Boston? Julia and I are fixing dinner, and we always make way too much.”
“Nah. Thanks, though.”
“Did you think about the job? You know, at the foundation with Julia?”
“Honestly, I haven’t really given it much thought. Is this a time sensitive thing?”
“I don’t think so. She’s just getting her ducks in a row.”
“Okay, well, let me see what happens at the budget meetings and go from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she yawns. “I’m going to grab a shower and go to bed. Call me later.”
“I will.”
“Bye.”
I end the call, but hold the phone in my hand. For some reason, I don’t want to put it down. Realizing how stupid I look standing in the living room, staring at it, I go to sit it down when it buzzes.
My heart leaps when I look at the screen.
Lincoln: Just checking to see if you made it home okay. Let me know when you can.
Hurriedly, I swipe my fingers across the screen.
Me: I made it a while ago. Already cleaned up and getting ready to make some tea.
I watch for his response, but it doesn’t come right away. Just as my nerves start to get the best of me, the light goes off.
Lincoln: Thank you for coming tonight.
Me: Is that an innuendo?
Lincoln: Could be. ;)
Me: Well, thank you for having me come. ;) Lincoln: It was my pleasure. Wait, are we sexting now?
Me: I think sexting includes dick pics.
Lincoln: I’d rather you see it in person. Feel free to send me naked pics of you though. ;) Me: Yeahhhh. There are no naked pics of me floating in the digital world and I think I’ll keep it that way.
Lincoln: Classy. I like it.
Me: I have to make up for letting you finger me on a picnic table today.
Lincoln: I hope you’re kidding. That was the best thing I’ve done in a long fucking time. You’re something else, Dani.
Me: It’s Danielle. Grr . . .
Lincoln: I like when you growl. And when you moan. And when you get all bossy when you’re hot and bothered.
Me: I think I need to go to bed now. LOL
Lincoln: Dream of me?
Me: There’s a good chance of that since I still smell like you.
Lincoln: That’s so damn hot. I’m hard again.
Me: Sweet dreams, Landry.
Lincoln: Night, Ryan.
Me: Ugh. Night.
Lincoln: LOL
Danielle
I TYPE THE FINAL WORDS of the email with a flourish and hit “send.” It’s taken all morning to focus, but I’ve finally started to get into the flow. That is, until I remember the feel of his hands or the draw of his gaze.