“Okay, baby. I love you, too. Bye.” He ends his call and lays his head back dramatically onto the seat. “I’m in deep, cupcake.”
“I can tell,” I reply playfully. “You are not going to believe who I just saw sitting in the meeting.” After waiting a minute for effect, Joey motions with his hands for me to hurry the fuck up with my information as I drive down the street. “That guy who gave me his card the other day in the shop. The cocky one who picked up the tarts.”
I hear his sharp breath intake. “Are you serious? What the hell was he doing there? Does he work there? Holy shit, are him and Reese co-workers?”
These are the same questions that are running through my mind. “I don’t know; I didn’t get to ask. I really hope not though. Asshole stared at me like he wanted to eat me.” I feel a chill run through me at the memory of it.
“That’s probably because he does. He wasn’t shy about wanting you last week, and I’m sure seeing you again with Reese’s dick in your mouth didn’t help.”
I scowl at him. “Christ Almighty, Joey, he just saw me kiss him.” In fact, everyone saw me kiss him. “Okay, so you’re kind of an expert at the whole casual sex stuff, right? Have you ever seen a guy who you are just fucking more than once in the same day? I mean, do you space out the times you spend together or do you just say fuck it and see him whenever you both feel like it?”
Joey chuckles before he answers. “Honestly, when I’ve done the just sex stuff before, we saw each other often because we wanted to fuck often. I think as long as you both can keep yourselves from getting too wrapped up in it, there shouldn’t be that many rules.” He slips his phone out of his pocket and begins messing with it, ending our discussion.
I contemplate Joey’s explanation to me as we drive to the shop. There shouldn’t be too many rules? I feel like rules are extremely necessary, at least for me to be able to do this successfully. There are certain things that just can’t happen between Reese and me. Like sleepovers and meeting each other’s families and doing anything too romantic or intimate. Keeping myself from getting too wrapped up in him is the biggest struggle of my life, but immensely worth it. I want to do this with him more than anything because I love being with him. The alternative, ending this because it’s too hard for me, sends a pain through my body at the very idea of it. If anyone is going to fuck this up between us, it’s going to be me. He isn’t going to interpret things the way they aren’t meant to be interpreted, and he isn’t going to get too attached, so neither should I. He’s used to not doing serious, and even though I’m not, I can keep up. I’m determined to make this work and I will. I just need to stop acting like a stupid girl about it.
I close up the shop on Tuesday night at six p.m., saying goodnight to Joey after he helps me put any uneaten goodies away. My mind has been on Reese all afternoon, and I’m aching to be with him, and not just for sex. I want to talk to him and play with him. I just want to see him. And he wants to see me. I had originally planned on spending my night watching television or taking a long bath, but neither one of those options sound appealing anymore. I stop fighting it and quickly make up my mind. Slipping off my apron and grabbing my purse and keys, I lock up the shop behind me and stroll toward Sam.
Driving to Reese’s building is an easy route from the bakery. He lives in Printer’s Row, which is just south of downtown Chicago, a mere five minutes away. I’m very familiar with the area, having catered to several businesses in the trendy upscale neighborhood. I like this part of the city, and tell myself I really should come down here more often as I park Sam down the street a bit and lock him up, beginning the short walk to the front of the condos.
I practically sprint off the elevator and down the hallway, stopping sharply in front of Reese’s door and looking down at my flustered state. You would think by the way my skin is tingling that it has been days since I last saw him. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I smile and quickly type a message.
Me: I really want to see you tonight. Is there any way you could stop whatever it is you’re doing and come to my place?
I wait patiently and then a thought hits me that makes me feel like a complete jerk off. What if he isn’t home? What if he’s at his office or out somewhere and is going to leave to go to the bakery and I’m not there? Shit. But just as my blood pressure starts elevating to a crazy height, his door swings open and I smile at the sight of him typing on his phone with one hand, his keys in the other. My phone beeps and he quickly glances up, his lips parting and a sharp breath escaping at the sight of me. I’m still in my pink dress from earlier, but now my hair is down and it frames my face in soft waves. As his eyes take me in, it hits me. Reese had stopped whatever it was that he was doing to come to me, and I know I would have done the same if he had asked. And I am done trying to convince myself otherwise.