by G. , Whitney
She scooted to the edge of the bed, smiling and looking up at me. “Read them for me.”
“You owe me a hungover Saturday at your place, with breakfast. “
“Done deal.” I clicked the first one. “Can’t wait to see you again, baby … You’ve known each other less than two weeks and he’s already calling you baby?”
“Just read them, without your unwanted commentary. Thanks.”
I rolled my eyes and clicked the next one. “You’re hot as shit, babe.”
She smiled.
“You’re beautiful as shit, babe.”
She smiled again.
“I can’t wait to see your—” I stopped. “I’m not reading the rest of this shit, Ari.”
“Please.”
I groaned. “I can’t wait to see your perfect ass tits and your warm ass mouth wrapped around my rock-hard cock. Can’t wait to devour your pussy. ”
Blushing, she snatched the phone away from me. “I didn’t realize there were sext messages. Those are private.”
“That’s the type of shit that turns you on, Ari? Private messages about warm ass mouths wrapped around rock-hard cocks?”
“It’s called dirty talk.”
“It’s called an attempt at dirty talk. That’s not what that is at all.”
“It’s exactly what it is.” She narrowed her eyes at me, looking just as beautiful as she had last night. “Maybe if you’d done it with someone out of your plethora of girlfriends, your relationships would’ve lasted a whole lot longer.”
I stared at her, noticing how she was biting her lip, how I was definitely going to have to find a way to stay the hell away from her for a while, until I figured out why she was suddenly affecting me.
“Are you just going to stare at me?” she asked. “No smart-ass rebuttals? No comeback puns?”
“No …”
“Well, that’s shocking.” She bit her lip again, and to prevent myself from pulling her up and biting it, too, I grabbed a towel from the edge of the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. I’ll talk to you when you’re not talking about warm ass mouths and cocks.”
Track 10. The Best Day (3:55)
Arizona
I remembered everything about last night. Every. Goddamn. Thing.
The way his lips felt against mine, the way he looked at me at the party, the way he rendered me utterly speechless when he undressed me in the bathroom. I’d never been kissed the way he kissed me, never felt it in every vein of my being and been left yearning for more. Much more.
Still, a part of me wanted to remain in denial, so I’d done my best to keep thoughts of him at bay today.
I looked at myself in a full-length mirror, debating whether I should wear my hair up or down. My rescheduled date with Chris was tonight and regardless of the fact that I could still feel Carter’s lips on mine, I needed to get back to reality. The one where we were just friends and had a shared drunken moment.
My phone buzzed as I decided to go with an up-do. Carter.
“Has your pussy been devoured yet?”
Laughing, I pulled my hair into a bun before texting back: “Not yet … Give it a couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours for him to start, or a couple of hours for him to finish?”
“Both. I’m sure he’ll be down there a very long time. Something tells me you know nothing about giving and are all about receiving.”
“Something tells me that you don’t know me as well as you should.”
Before I could even begin to comprehend what he meant by that, he sent me another text:
Have fun on your date tonight. Let me know how it goes later.
Thanks. I will.
He sent me a colorful picture of a skeleton lying in bed with the words, “I’ll be waiting,” and I laughed, now realizing that despite the amazing kiss we’d shared, and the outlandish sexual text he’d just sent, it didn’t mean anything to either of us. We were just friends.
Just friends. Just friends …
I put on another coat of pink lipstick, and heard a soft knock on my door. “Yes?”
“Arizona?” My roommate, Heather, knocked once more.
“Yeah?”
“You got a minute?”
“Sure, come in.” I leaned close to the mirror and plucked an errant hair from my eyebrow.
She stepped inside, smiling at me through the glass and I smiled back. When I’d first moved off campus and into our shared house, I’d thought that she and the rest of the girls would become some of my closest friends, but that never came to be. They were all majoring in medical studies, and since their schedules were practically the same, they tended to keep to themselves for the most part. With the exception of our early morning conversations around the coffee maker on the weekends, we only saw each other in passing.
“Me and the girls of the house wanted to give you this,” she said, handing me a pink gift box. “It’s a farewell present, since you’re the only one who’s not staying in town after the summer.”
“But I’m not going anywhere for another two months.”
“Yeah, but everyone is always all over the place, now that we’re working our residencies, and we can never all be here at the same time, so I didn’t want to forget.” She pulled a tiny blue box from her back pocket. “This one is for Carter.”
“Why does Carter get a gift? He’s not a roommate.”
“No, but we see him just as much as we see you.” She shrugged. “My boyfriend is downstairs now. I just wanted to give you that before we start watching our movie.”
“Thank you.” I was truly flattered. “I really appreciate this.”
“You’re welcome.” She gave me a quick hug and left as quickly as she had come in.
I untied the box’s bow and started to unwrap the gift, but Chris called me as I was tearing the first flap.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Are you ready, or do you still need a little time?”
“I’m ready.”
“In that case, I’m at your door.”
“Be right down.” I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs, checking myself in the hallway mirror one last time.
I opened the door and saw Chris standing there with a huge bouquet of yellow flowers.
“You look beautiful.” He pulled me close for a kiss, gently slipping his tongue against mine and whispering against my mouth; I only felt a small tingle. Nothing groundbreaking.
Slipping his arm around my waist, he led me to his car and held the door open—smiling, as I slipped inside.
“I never took you for a guy who likes pop music,” I said, as he turned on the radio.
“I don’t … I just remembered that you do, and that I’m supposed to do whatever’s necessary to get you to sleep with me later.”
I laughed at his dry humor and hummed along to the music as he drove. Tonight was, in fact, our third date, and even though he was joking, I knew the three-date-sex rule was playing in his mind.
We pulled up to the pier half an hour later and walked hand in hand to Emilia’s, an Italian restaurant that everyone at the beach loved. Since he’d made a reservation, we were immediately seated near the window, and the waiter came over with a complimentary house wine and asked to take our orders.
As he was writing down what I wanted, I spotted Carter sitting at a corner table. With Tina. He was dressed in a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the top with black slacks, and she was wearing a dark green dress that left little to the imagination.
Although Carter looked somewhat detached, he was holding her hand on top of the table.
I took out my phone and shot him a quick text.
You decided to try the relationship thing with Tina instead of just sex? When did that happen?
It didn’t. What would ever make you think that?
The fact that you’re holding hands at Emilia’s and she’s wearing a dress that looks like she wants to give you the ride of your life later tonight.
You really n
eed to get better at sexting.
He tossed back a shot as he looked around the room until he found me. His lips slightly parted as his eyes met mine, and it looked like he was about to get up and walk over, but he stayed back and texted me instead.
She called and said she wanted to go out to dinner. I didn’t have anything else to do, so I agreed. And if her dress says she wants to give me the ride of her life tonight, what the hell does yours say?
It says, ‘I know you want me right here, right now.’
More like, ‘I want to be fucked right here, right now.’
I laughed and looked up to see him smiling at me.
“What’s so funny?” Chris asked.
“Nothing, just a text from a friend.” I put my phone away and gave him my attention. “Thank you for being nice enough to reschedule our date for tonight.”
“Nice enough? It wasn’t that big of a deal. I would’ve waited until next week, if you wanted.” He picked up my hand and held it. “Don’t take this the crazy way or anything, but I really like you. There’s something about you I can’t quite put my finger on, but I like you a lot.”
“Is this the part where you’re going to tell me that I complete you?”
“It is.” He laughed, letting my hand go. “How did you know?”
“Instincts.” I sipped my wine and the two of us steered the conversation toward the simple and safe things: Plans after college, the bullshit of grad school programs, and the dwindling days of summer.
When the waiter returned to refill our wine a second time, I pressed a napkin against my mouth. “Will you excuse me for a minute, Chris? I need to go to the restroom.”
“Of course.”
I stood and made my way to the back, looking over my shoulder at Carter and Tina, who seemed to be engrossed in a deep conversation. Regardless of what he’d texted me, I knew he was going to sleep with her, and I couldn’t believe I was feeling slightly jealous; that was something I’d never felt when it came to him and whomever he dated.
Sighing, I walked into the restroom and reapplied my lipstick. I added a bit more mascara and blush, and hoped that Chris had something else up his sleeve for our date tonight, before he asked about sex.
I made sure I didn’t leave anything on the sink and stepped out into the hallway, noticing Carter heading in my direction.
“Are you following me?” I crossed my arms.
“Unless you’re coming from the men’s restroom, I don’t think so.”
An elderly couple walked between us, and he grabbed my hand—pulling me toward a set of windows.
“Is your date not going well?” he asked. “Do you need me to call your phone and fake an emergency for you?”
“What? No, I actually need for you to leave. You’re distracting me.”
“Come again?”
“You knew I was coming here on my date, Carter,” I said. “We have an unwritten rule.”
“And what unwritten rule is that?”
“That everyone who knows us, or everyone who has ever been around us, thinks we’re screwing each other, when we’re not, so the less time we spend at the same places when we’re dating other people, the better.”
“First of all, I’m not dating Tina. Second of all, she picked this restaurant. You never actually told me where your date was going to be tonight.” He raised his eyebrow, looking concerned. “What is going on with you? Did you drink too much alcohol today, too?”
“Maybe.” I sighed, silently counting the four glasses I’d just had with my dinner. “I just—I just thought you were here because…”
“Because what?”
“It’s nothing.” I took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry. I thought you were purposely showing up here to distract me.”
“And why would I ever do something like that?” He looked completely confused.
“You wouldn’t; hence, the apology I just gave you.” I started to move around him, but he stepped in front of me, gently pushing me against the wall.
“Are you sleeping with him tonight?” he asked. “Does he live up to everything on your spreadsheet?”
“I don’t have a spreadsheet anymore,” I said. “I’ll have to find the time to start a new one because after the ‘Epic’ party, someone found a way to delete it from my phone.”
“Hmmm. That’s such a shame.”
“It is.” I laughed. “I also hope that whoever that person is, knows that I could possibly charge them with a crime because even though it was just a cell phone, logging into someone’s personal data cloud is—” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence. My intended last word ended on his lips, once his mouth covered mine and he kissed me again—taking complete control, making me feel everything I’d felt at that party all over again.
“Carter …” I panted, slowly pulling away. “What are you doing?”
“Now, I’m purposely distracting you.” He looked into my eyes. “I’m also trying to determine whether or not I’d feel the same thing if I kissed you while I was completely sober.”
“So, what’s the verdict on that?”
“Jury’s still out.” He walked away from me without another word, and returned to his table—leaving me completely speechless.
I leaned against the wall for several minutes, struggling to compose myself. I waited until the butterflies in my stomach stopped fluttering, until my heart stopped beating abnormally, and took a few deep breaths before returning to my table.
“You okay?” Chris asked as I took my seat. “I was about to come looking for you.”
“I’m more than fine.” I smiled. “You ordered us five different samples of wine?”
“Yeah.” He moved to my side of the table and put his arm around my shoulder. “I want us to try them all together. You ready to focus?”
“Absolutely.”
I tried, but I honestly couldn’t focus for the rest of dinner. No matter how many times Chris gave me a compliment or told me a joke I’d normally find hilarious, my mind wandered back to Carter, back to both of us kissing each other senselessly at that party. To him kissing me again in that hallway.
When the restaurant manager informed us that he’d be closing the place early tonight, we left the restaurant and headed to Sandy Park.
Chris found a spot that was secluded by overgrown trees and turned off his car. He looked over at me, possibly gauging my reaction and I smiled.
With that, he climbed into the backseat and pulled me back there with him.
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 pussy. 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 be
en 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.