“Well, I’m not going to. It’s not right. I’ve only known you a week.” Every reason why I couldn’t take the dress poured out of me. “It’s just not right. You can’t spend that much money on me.”
“I have and it’s money already spent. The dress isn’t going back, so your choice is to either keep it or donate it to Goodwill.” He was wicked in his calmness.
“But I can’t keep it. I can’t.”
“So donate it.”
“I can’t give a brand-new, designer dress to charity. Please take it back. It’s such a waste of money. I don’t have anywhere to wear a dress like that.” See what happened there? He’d got me thinking about keeping it.
“You have.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“I would like to take you to dinner this weekend. You need something appropriate to wear.”
“Why? Where are we going?” See? He did it again.
“Just somewhere nice. We can sort out the details tomorrow. Now I need to get home.” He stood and I followed him to the door. “Anything else to say?” he asked before I could open it.
I looked up at him and, mustering every ounce of sincerity I could, said, “Thank you for the dress, Garrett. It’s beautiful.”
“Just like you,” he whispered before lowering his head to mine. There was a split-second where I was tempted to move my head, but I didn’t. His lips touched mine lightly, then more insistently. Garrett’s hands wound themselves in my hair, keeping my head fixed as his mouth became firmer. I felt his tongue stroke my lower lip, encouraging it to allow him access. As soon as his tongue made its way past my lips, the pressure of his hands increased and there was no way I could resist. A deep moan rumbled from his throat into my mouth before he pulled away, eyes dark and unreadable.
“I want you, Neve. I don’t want to be just your friend. I’m going to make you mine.” Before I could reply, he left, quietly pulling the door closed behind him. Trembling, but unsure why, I sat on my bed, wondering what the fuck had just happened.
I spent the whole of my American Studies class worrying about facing Garrett in our Literature lecture that afternoon. Even though I had spent much of the night awake, thinking over what had happened and, critically, what it meant may happen, I still had no answers. Garrett’s kiss had left me numb; it was certainly nothing like the kisses I shared with Jake. But maybe what Jake and I had was a one-off. Maybe it got better with time.
Who am I kidding? I could remember the first time Jake kissed me, at my parents’ New Year’s Eve party: it was innocent but had still rendered me breathless and wanting more. There had never been a kiss with Jake that hadn’t turned me into a molten mess, desperate for more. Even the heat of his mouth approaching mine would be enough to turn me on. I licked my upper lip, remembering the exact texture of Jake’s lips on mine. It was enough to make me shudder with longing.
There had been no text from Garrett and no sign of him in the library so it was with a small amount of relief that I saw him, sat in what had become our usual seats, in the lecture hall. I made my way over and sat down, wondering what his greeting was going to be like.
“Hey, had a good day?” Okay, so nothing out of the ordinary there.
“Yeah. Had a good lecture on American music. You?”
“Yes, thanks. Media was a film screening so it was an easy session.” He smiled at me before turning his gaze back to his iPad. I felt a little better as he hadn’t tried to kiss me or ask about last night, but unease meant I didn’t fully process the lecturer’s words.
When the lecture was over, we walked out of the hall together and he paused.
“Can I drive you back today?”
“It’s okay, I can walk.”
“No, I want to take you home. It’s just that my car is close by and I can then drive straight off from yours. And it’s warmer!” Maybe I’m selfish but I hadn’t really thought he was walking so much out of his way when he insisted on walking me back each day. That fifteen minutes for me was half an hour for him and, although the exercise wasn’t an issue, the weather sometimes was.
“Okay.” We walked the short distance to his car and he drove us to my housing block. In silence.
“Thanks for the lift,” I started when he had pulled into a parking space. He hadn’t moved to open my door but he hadn’t cut the engine, either.
When he said my name, I felt my eyes roll but turned to look at him fully. He said nothing more but lifted one hand to my face. The tip of his index finger trailed down the side of my face before landing on my lips. After pressing lightly on them, forcing some sort of faux-kiss, he removed his hand and got out of the car.
“Goodnight, Neve,” he said, handing me my bag from the backseat.
“’Night, Garrett. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure,” he called as I walked to my door. I heard him get back into the car, but I closed the door behind me before he pulled away.