“Come on, Red Rocks versus The Garden of Titans?”
“I have to say I agree. Red Rocks doesn’t quite have the fierceness of The Garden of Titans. So where to?” He holds up the small cooler and shakes it gently. We take a seat at the top near the eastern wall and catch some shade. As I dole out the sandwiches and pasta salad I’ve made, Vick talks about how he’d like to come back and paint Red Rocks soon. After we finish eating, we explore, hand in hand, and share silly little tidbits about ourselves and before I know it, the sun has set, and the sky is lit with stars. We lie on the hood of my car and stare up, his hand holding mine between us. I’m laughing at a joke he’s just told me when I realize he’s silently staring at me.
When my gaze meets his, my body shakes as my laughter ebbs, and he squeezes my hand. He rolls toward me and kisses me, and I do my best to kiss him with the same gusto, but I’m failing miserably. Undeterred, his free hand slides down my arm slowly as we make out until it’s on my thigh seemingly sliding up. I don’t know where he intended his hand to go, but I jerk up and brush it away. What is wrong with me?
He sits up with me. “I’m . . . sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
I have no idea. I mean, really. He touched my thigh. Should it be that big of a deal? But he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “You like me don’t you?” he asks, his voice steady.
“No, not at all,” I try to joke, hoping to ebb the awkwardness, but it only earns me a slight smile. “Of course, I like you,” I say, seriously.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve . . . felt like this,” he admits, his gaze moving back to the sky. My heart hammers in my chest. Felt like what? I mean, I really like Vick, but is he talking about love already? No. He couldn’t be.
“I just want to make sure I’m not the guy you’re passing time with.”
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that, and I have to blink a few times to absorb what he just said. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me, Vick,” I finally manage.
“I’m asking are we dating or is this more like . . . something casual?”
“Does sex determine that answer?” I pipe back.
“Well, I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a total asshole, because I’m not expecting it at any point, but yes. At some point, if we’re dating, I hope we can be . . . intimate together.”
I try to keep my features unreadable. He’s right, if we were to date for a certain amount of time, eventually having sex would be part of it. Why is it so hard for me to imagine? I just dry humped Connor on my kitchen counter last night, yet I can’t muster up a visual of making love to Vick. But maybe that’s because I’m still frazzled over what happened in my kitchen last night.
I can’t say to him, yes, eventually we’ll have sex. For starters, that would be awkward, and secondly, I just . . . can’t. So I answer the only way I can. “I think we’re dating. Aren’t we?” There’s no promise there. No timeline or deadline. That was a safe answer.
He smiles. “I guess I’m not being very clear here. I want to know, are we exclusive?”
“Oh,” I squeak out. “I’m not dating anyone else if that’s what you are asking.”
“So do you want to . . . I don’t know, be exclusive?”
I meet his gaze once more and smile faintly. He is a gorgeous man. “Okay,” I agree. “But Vick, I need . . .” Ugh, how do I say this? I need time before we do anything sexual? I’m just not ready? Which is total bullshit as I would have gone all the way with Connor last night. But that was a mistake.
A big drunken mistake.
“I know,” Vick pipes up, saving me. “I don’t mind waiting, Demi. Sometimes taking your time is the best way.”
My heart pings. Damn, he’s so sweet. We lay back, rolling toward each other and spend the next hour making out under the stars. When I drop him off at home, he kisses my forehead.
“Thank you. Tonight was awesome.”
“Anytime.” I smile back.