Too Late

“Hey,” he says, his eyes scrolling down my body with a grin. “You ready?”

I laugh incredulously. Is he serious? He’s not even going to apologize for being late?

“I waited forty minutes for you,” I say, irritated. “I got so hungry I’m past the point of hungry and now I’m just ready for bed. Goodnight, Asa.”

His eyes immediately grow apologetic and he grips my shoulders. “No. No, don’t say that. I’m sorry, I got held up. I would have called, but I don’t have your number.”

“I don’t have a phone,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “Why not? Who doesn’t have a cell phone these days?”

“Poor people, Asa. People who can’t afford modern luxuries. People who spend their last three dollars at the laundromat, washing the dress they were asked to wear by the guy who showed up late. People who don’t have time to be stood up this late at night, because their only means of transportation is the bus, and the last one leaves in ten minutes. So if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to the bus stop.”

I try to push past him, but he slides his hands to my face. “Please don’t leave. I’ve been looking forward to this date all day. I did everything I could to get here on time and I know I’m late, but I’m here. So can we please start over? Can we pretend I said the date started at ten past nine and I’m perfectly on time and you’re really excited to see where I’m taking you?”

He’s looking back and forth between my eyes desperately. He’s really kind of endearing on top of all that cockiness. What a deadly combination.

Shit.

I force a smile. “Where are you taking me?”

He grins. “Thank you,” he says, his whole face breaking out into a smile. “It’s a surprise. And we’re walking there, is that okay?”

I nod and try to move past the fact that he’s so late. Lots of things could have happened to make him half an hour late and he’s right. He’s here, so it obviously wasn’t intentional. I probably shouldn’t be so hard on him.

He reaches down and laces his fingers through mine. To him, it’s probably a very casual move that he does with every girl he takes out. But to me, it’s way more than casual. It’s monumental. It’s the second time I’ve ever held hands with a guy. The first was when I was twelve, so I don’t even know if that counts.

“You look amazing,” he says, switching hands so he can walk backward a few steps and admire my dress. His eyes rake down my body, pause at the hem against my thighs, and then drag back up again until he’s looking at my eyes. He smiles and then switches hands again, falling back into step with me.

“When I saw you in that dress for the first time, I couldn’t sit still in class. I tried to catch up with you when class was over, but I lost you in the hallway.”

I smile. “I didn’t notice.”

He laughs a little bit. “You don’t notice a lot of things, Sloan. Trust me.”

“Like what?”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “Oh, just the fact that every goddamn male in history class can’t keep their fucking eyes off you. Me included.”

I definitely would have noticed if he ever stared at me. “You’re delusional.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’d rather be delusional and on a date with you than sane and with any other girl in the world.”

That shuts me up. I don’t know whether to be flattered by the things he’s saying or insulted. He’s so smooth; I’m positive he’s used every line in his book on more than one girl, more than once. I’m not special to him.

So why are the things he’s saying having such an effect on me?

My stomach is in knots and it’s getting really hot, despite the fact that it’s kind of chilly out and I’m in a sleeveless dress.

But seriously. Attraction is what gets girls in trouble with guys like him, obviously. I know his lines are as genuine as a dollar bill with Kanye West on the front of it, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the compliments a little. Even if this goes nowhere, it’s still fun hearing them for a few hours.

I should try to just enjoy it. I’ve gone so long without doing the things other girls my age do, I should just enjoy this tonight, even though in the back of my mind I know it’s all just attraction. He doesn’t know me at all—he just knows he likes the way this dress looks on me.

He finally says, “It’s at the end of this street.”

I’ve gone to this college for most of the semester and I’ve never been on this road before. It’s cute. Christmas lights in the trees, even though it’s nowhere near Christmas. There’s music playing, coming from speakers attached to the light posts. I can see the restaurant at the end of the street and I’m a little disappointed we’re almost finished walking. It’s been a while since I’ve taken the time to enjoy some fresh air.

I wonder what we’re going to talk about while we eat? And if that’s all we’re doing is eating and then parting ways? I’ve never been on a date, so I don’t know all the steps.

“What’s your favorite part of dates?” I ask him, trying to get some information from him while not appearing as clueless as I am.

He glances at me and smiles. “The kiss, Sloan. Definitely the kiss.”

So that’s happening tonight?

I suddenly don’t have an appetite because I lose it to nerves. He’s going to be so disappointed when my tongue has no idea what to do inside his mouth.

I clear my throat. “Does that always happen at the very end of a date?”

“That all depends on the couple. Sometimes it happens during. Sometimes it doesn’t happen at all. Sometimes it happens at the beginning.”

Wouldn’t that be nice? Getting it over with?

“When do you predict ours will happen?” I smile and wonder if it’s obvious that I’m flirting with him. He pulls on my hand, making a sharp left between two buildings. We’re still about thirty feet from the restaurant, so I’m taken aback that we’re taking a detour.

We’re in an alley now. A very narrow, empty one. He turns to face me and I gasp when I see the look in his eyes. His hands meet my hips and then my back meets the wall of the building.

“I think now is a good time,” he says, right before his mouth connects with mine. My hands clench his shirt in two tight, nervous fists. His tongue slides against my tight lips and it practically causes me to melt against him. My lips part and I sigh, just as his tongue touches mine.

I don’t even feel nervous anymore. An instinct kicks in that I didn’t even know existed, and I just follow where his kiss takes me. Stroke for stroke, breath for breath, I do everything he does. I’m pretty sure I have the hang of it after about thirty seconds, but as soon as I’m positive, his mouth leaves mine.

He presses his hands into the wall behind me, and the side of his head meets mine. I can feel his quick breaths crash against my ear. I’m glad he’s not looking at me, because I’m smiling.

That was nice. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as I thought it would be. I’m feeling so confident, I have no idea why I blurt out, “That was my first kiss,” because I instantly feel him tense against me and I regret saying it.

He pulls back, his dark eyes even more intense after our kiss. “You’re kidding, right?”

I should laugh and say of course. Instead, I shake my head.

“You’ve never been with a guy?”

I shake my head again. “No.”

He tilts his head while he stares down at me. “Is it some weird religious thing?”

I laugh. “No. Not at all. I’m not a prude or saving myself for marriage for any particular reason. I’ve just been...busy. My whole life I’ve been busy from morning to night. I’ve never had a free second to date.”

He stares at me disbelievingly then says, “So... you’ve never been touched by a guy? Or kissed? Any guy?”

Again, I shake my head. “Never. This was the first. You...kissing me. That’s the most experience I’ve had. So don’t judge me too harshly if I sucked at it.”

He releases a very slow, deliberate breath. “Holy fuck.” Then his mouth is immediately back on mine, much harder this time. It catches me off guard for a moment, but it doesn’t take long to catch up with him.

He’s devouring me now, kissing me desperately, pressing himself against me. I throw my arms around his neck because the intensity of this kiss is making me feel less stable. My body is growing so weak; I can’t even rely on it anymore to hold me up.

I can’t keep up with him. I’m gasping for breath as he kisses down my chin, down my neck, back up to my mouth again. His hands are in my hair and then mine are in his. He groans as he releases my hair and bends down, grabbing my legs and lifting me, sliding me up the wall a few inches.

It’s amazing how different our second kiss is from the first.

I wonder what the third one will be like.