Brit and I spent the afternoon getting our nails done. It had been so long since I’d had a manicure and a pedicure, that I forgot how incredibly bored I got during the procedure and how once there was wet nail polish gleaming on my nails, I wanted to touch everything I laid eyes on.
“Are you nervous?” Brit asked as she wiggled her hot pink toenails.
Resisting the urge to pull my hands out from the lamps and through my hair, I nodded vigorously. “Yes, I’m nervous. Does that make me lame? Because if so I am the queen of lame right now.”
She giggled. “I don’t think so. Being nervous means you’re excited. Hell, I’m excited! I’m so living vicariously through you. You have to call me immediately afterward tonight.” A sly look crossed her face. “Unless tonight turns into tomorrow…”
My mouth dropped open.
Another fit of giggles took her as she pressed back in her chair. “Okay. I doubt that’s going to happen, but you need to call me right away. I have to know if he’s a good kisser.”
“How do you know if we’re going to kiss?”
“Seriously?” she said, gaping at me. “He’s so going to kiss you.”
My stomach did the dipping thing. “Maybe not.”
“Oh, no, he’s going to kiss you. He’s probably going to want to do lots, lots more, but he’ll kiss you. I just know it.” Brit let out a squeal that brought a nervous grin to my face. “I bet he’s an awesome kisser.”
If I had to base his kissing skills off what I already knew of him, I’d have to say he was probably a great kisser, especially if he could have me damn near squirming in my seat just by running a pen along my hand. It was like foreplay… with a pen.
I giggled.
After the mani and pedi, Brit made me promise once more that I’d call her as soon as I could after my date and then I headed back to my apartment. Careful with my shiny purple nails, I took the longest shower in my life and then went through my entire closet. Every time I looked at the time and saw it getting closer and closer to seven, I felt my heart throw itself against my ribs like it was just about to climb out of my chest.
I had my whole freaking closet on my bed and half on my floor. Seemed kind of stupid to be this indecisive about what to wear, but I honestly had no idea. Finally, after almost breaking down and calling Brit for advice, I settled on a pair of skinny jeans tucked into black boots and a deep green cap sleeve blouse that was a little dressy and flirty.
I took the same amount of time on my makeup and hair, just as bad as it had been when he’d come over to watch movies. It struck me funny as I applied mascara that I’d be this concerned with my appearance when he always saw me looking like a rag-a-muffin on Sundays when he came over to cook eggs.
Oh my God, tomorrow was Sunday, which was a big duh, because that day always came after Saturday, but tomorrow would be a different Sunday. It would be the first one after our date. Would we still be doing eggs? What if the date did end up turning into a tomorrow morning thing? I wasn’t naive. Cam could easily expect that this date was going to lead somewhere.
In my reflection, my eyes were unnaturally wide in the mirror and the mascara wand was dangerously close to my eyeball.
The date was so not leading to my bedroom because it looked like Old Navy had thrown up in there.
Okay. I was being stupid. Tomorrow would be no different than today. Tonight was not going to become a sex-fueled all-nighter for several reasons. And there was no reason for me to act like I had no idea that Sunday was the day after Saturday.
Finishing my little come to Jesus pep talk, I forced myself out of the bathroom. The nervous excitement humming through my veins wasn’t a bad feeling. It was quite… different, like a good kind of anxiousness. I was literally two seconds away from doing a little ass shaking jig in the middle of my living room when Cam showed up.
He stepped into my apartment, his gaze starting at the top of my head and making it all the way down to the pointy tips of my black boots. Amazing how a look could feel like a touch and I felt it in a way that put my earlier edginess to shame.
Cam cleared his throat. “You look… really, really great.”
I flushed. “Thank you. So do you.”
And that was the freaking truth. Cam was just in dark jeans, a black v-neck sweater that stretched across his broad shoulders and with his dark hair tumbling over his forehead and the slight half grin on his face, he was absolutely stunning. So much so, I sort of wondered what I was doing here, about to go out on a date with him.
“You ready? Got a jacket?”
Snapping out of it, I nodded and raced back to my bedroom, nearly eating the floor when my heel snagged in a sweater. I grabbed my coat and slid it on as I joined him. Amusement glimmered in his eyes as he picked my purse up off the back of the couch. Feeling about nine kinds of awkward, I thanked him.
“Ready,” I said, breathless.