We didn’t waste any time talking.
His lips latched onto mine, and I desperately wanted to feel that reckless and uncontrollable passion—that raging desire that I’d felt for Carter just hours ago, but there was nothing. It felt like we were just going through the motions.
Not noticing my lack of enthusiasm, he slowly pulled away from my mouth, and started to kiss his way down my stomach.
Maybe this part will be good…This part will make me forget...
I leaned back against the seat, and he hiked up my dress. He pushed my panties to the side and kissed the inner skin of my thigh. Caressing my legs, he whispered, “Nom, nom, nom…nom, nom nom…”
What the hell did he just say?!
“Nom, nom, nom…”
Oh my god…
“I love eating *…I’m going to eat yours all night.”
I was pretty sure my vagina dried up like a desert and cried at that very moment, so I sat up before it could attempt to detach itself from my body and walk away for good. “Wait, Chris…I’m…”
“Not ready yet?”
NEVER… “Yeah…It’s still kind of soon…I’m just not ready.”
“I figured,” he said, sitting up. “You’ve seemed a bit off since we left the restaurant.”
“I’m not off…I just…” I figured I could still blame it on the alcohol. “I shouldn’t have had so much wine—especially coming off one of the worst hangovers I’ve ever had yesterday.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “I’ve been there…” He helped me back into the front seat. “Well, I’ll take you back home so you can get some rest.”
“Thank you very much…”
Our drive home was slightly awkward. We didn’t say much to one another outside of commenting on how annoyed we were with the usual summer migration of tourists, and when we arrived at my house, he was still a perfect gentleman. He opened the car door for me and walked me to the door.
“Try Sprite and fresh lemons,” he said.
“For what?”
“Your upcoming hangover tomorrow morning.” He kissed me and walked back to his car, motioning for me to go inside so he could pull off.
As soon as he shut the door, I slipped out of my shoes and dropped my purse to the floor. I heard my roommate and her boyfriend laughing in the living room, so I dashed into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine and a mug. Then I went upstairs and shut myself inside my room.
I poured the first cup, slowly sipping it as I thought about the past forty eight hours. I could see everything playing in my head like a movie, and I kept pressing pause on my favorite frames, wondering if after all this time I could possibly like Carter after all.
He gave me wedgies on the playground in fourth grade…
I poured another cup, drinking it faster than the first.
He set my science project on fire after I told him he was ugly…
Shaking my head, I got into bed—fresh cup of wine in hand and leaned back against my pillows, thinking about everything as thoroughly as possible.
As I replayed our kiss from the party in my mind, I felt my phone vibrating. Him.
How was your date?
I hesitated before responding.
AMAZING! I had the Best. Sex. Ever!
I asked how your “date” was…not your daydream…
How was YOUR date? (Why is it so hard to believe that Chris and I had sex?)
It wasn’t a date. It was just a dinner. (Because I know you didn’t.) What are you up to right now?
I’m drinking cheap wine out of a mug.
Want some late-night Chinese to go with it?
I looked at my clock and realized it was long past midnight. “Only if I get three eggrolls that I don’t have to share…”
“Sure. Be there in twenty.”
I got out of bed and straightened my room, something I never did when he was on his way over. I moved my food and beverage magazines to the window sill and cleared my desk of all my half written recipes, leaving only my notebook so it would look like I’d been writing.
I made the bed—tucking the sheets in for the first time in months, and as I was vacuuming, I suddenly stopped.
What the hell am I doing?!
I returned the vacuum to the closet and finally changed out of my dress. I put on the most unflattering pair of sweats I owned—along with a large T-shirt, and pulled my hair into a low ponytail. To perfect my “look like a bum” effort, I found my makeup remover wipes and brushed them against my face until every bit of foundation and mascara was gone.
When I finished, Carter walked into my bedroom—Chinese food in hand.
“I lied about the eggrolls,” he said, setting a brown bag on my desk. “You’re going to have to share at least one of them.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“It also wasn’t part of the combo special.” He tossed me a fork and froze—looking around my room with his eyebrow raised. “Did you and Chris come back here after your date?”
“No…What makes you think that?”
“Because this is the cleanest I’ve ever seen your room.” He handed me a white box. “Is your mom coming to visit you tomorrow?”