Object of My Desire

by R. L. Kenderson

  He rubbed his stomach. “I should have brought snacks. I’m getting hungry.”

  “You can go and get food if you want.”

  Today’s event was in a hotel again, so there was the restaurant, but it was also attached to the Mall of America. And, unlike the event last September in Iowa, this one was a book signing only. Not a get-together the night before or a special dinner tonight.

  “Nah. Why don’t we go get something to eat after this?”

  I was momentarily shocked that he was asking if we wanted to go to dinner. I’d figured he’d have plans since it was Saturday and all.

  “That sounds great. But Lexie rode with me today. She has plans with her boyfriend after this. She was nice enough to postpone them to come with me today.”

  “I can drive your car home,” Lexie exclaimed. “And Brendan can just pick me up from your place.”

  “That’s nice of you even though I know you just want to drive, but I’m not spending money to Uber home from here. Too expensive. I’m a starving artist, remember?”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Close enough.”

  “I’ll take you home,” Travis said.

  I whipped my head around. He couldn’t possibly want to eat with me that badly.

  “I couldn’t impose on you,” I said, offering him an out. “Where do you live? Because I live all the way down in Shakopee.”

  I lived about forty-five minutes from the mall, and depending on which direction he lived, he could live over an hour away from me.

  “I live in Minnetonka. Not that bad of a drive.”

  It was at least twenty to twenty-five minutes, but it definitely could have been worse.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Please say yes,” Lexie butted in.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  Travis put his hand on the small of Sydney’s back as the hostess led them to their table. They had decided to eat at one of the many restaurants in the Mall of America to make things easier, and Sydney had chosen Italian.

  Travis loved Italian but didn’t eat it too often. He had to work hard to keep his body lean and fit for his job, so when he was prepping for a shoot, he avoided it entirely. He was lucky that he worked in a gym because he had to exercise about two hours every day. At this point, he considered working out as part of his personal training and modeling jobs.

  They were shown to their booth, and they sat opposite each other.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’ll have a glass of wine.” She frowned. “Unless it’s too early.”

  It was a little past four.

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he told her. “I’ll have a beer,” he said to the hostess.

  They were left alone, and Sydney looked a little nervous. He hadn’t realized how much he had been looking forward to seeing her until she walked up to her table at the signing.

  He’d almost forgotten how pretty, in a refreshing and natural way, she was.

  He’d dated other girls like her, but it had been a while. Christy had made him lose sight of what he really liked and appreciated in a woman.

  Their server came over with their drinks and bread basket and introduced himself. He said he’d give them a few minutes to look and be back.

  “Thanks for asking me to come today,” Travis told her when they were alone.

  Her eyes widened. “No, I should be thanking you.” She grabbed a piece of bread and tore a hunk off. “I almost didn’t ask you.”

  He frowned. “Why not?”

  She smiled, the corner of her mouth curving up. “I figured you’d have something better to do.”

  He shook his head. “No way. I was happy to do it.”

  She looked away, and he wasn’t quite sure, but her face might have turned red.

  “Lexie said you have another book signing next month.”

  “I do. It’s in three weeks actually.”

  “Where’s that one?”

  “Chicago.”

  “Do you have a model lined up for it?”

  She laughed and took a sip of her wine. “No. I won’t have a new book out before then. And you’re the only one I’ve ever asked to go with me.”

  He liked that answer. “Do you want one?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Do I what?”

  “Do you want a model to accompany you?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. Do you want me to go to Chicago with you?”

  “Wow. Why would you—” She waved a hand in front of her. “Never mind with that. I’m not flying. I was planning to drive.”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s only, like, six hours, right?”

  “Six and a half. Maybe seven, depending on the traffic.” She tilted her head. “Are you saying you want to ride with me?”

  “Yeah. Why not? Seems silly to take two vehicles.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Would anyone else be driving with us?” He hoped it would just be the two of them.

  Her smile faltered. “Uh … yes. I haven’t found anyone to be my assistant yet.”

  He beamed. “Great. I’ll be your assistant.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You don’t have to. I don’t mind.”

  She gave him the side-eye. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  He laughed. “Yes. I think it’ll be fun.” He raised his brow. “Don’t you?”

  “Of course, but …”

  “But what?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “So, are we going to do it?”

  Her eyes widened for a second, and he had to stop himself from laughing. He hadn’t meant for it to be an innuendo, but now that he’d said it …

  “Let’s,” she said.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I told Travis as he drove me home. “You really didn’t have to pay. I could have paid, or we could have split the check.”

  “And let a starving artist starve?”

  I laughed. “Well, I might have exaggerated. I’m not exactly starving.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “I figured, but I was happy to pay. I haven’t had Italian for a long time.”

  “Really?” A thought occurred to me. “Oh no. Do you not like it? You should have said something when I suggested it.”

  He laughed. “No. I love it actually.”

  “Whew. If you didn’t like Italian, I’d worry that you were a potential psychopath,” I teased. “Wait. Then, why haven’t you eaten it?” That was such a foreign concept to me. I loved food, and if I wanted something, I usually ate it.

  “My ex didn’t eat Italian.”

  I felt bad for him. “Oh, she didn’t like Italian?”

  That would explain not eating it. I had an ex who didn’t like Mexican, so I’d only gone out for it with friends.

  “No.” He laughed like what he was about to say was silly. “She didn’t eat it. Too many carbs.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “She’s one of those, huh?” My eyes widened. “I’m sorry. That was rude. A lot of people don’t eat carbs.”

  He laughed. “It’s okay. I get it. But I don’t eat a lot of carbs either. I try to stick with protein.”

  That would explain his chicken Parmesan that he’d ordered with a substitute of grilled chicken.

  I looked away from him and winced. He didn’t eat much, and his ex didn’t eat any while I had eaten almost my entire bowl of pasta. He probably thought I was a pig.

  “You probably work out a lot, too,” I said to him.

  He nodded. “I do. I kind of have to if I want to keep modeling. Do you?”

  “Only the bare minimum. I do it to stay healthy, not because I like it. I have yet to experience that high that people talk about.”

&
nbsp; “Really? I love working out.”

  “Did your ex work out, too?”

  “Every day. She’s a personal trainer, like me.”

  “I see.”

  This was like the guy at my gym who had been texting me and then suddenly stopped. Travis and I were too different but in a way that made me feel like I was lacking because I wasn’t as disciplined as him or his ex.

  I pointed to my house. “It’s the one on the right.”

  He pulled into my driveway, and I turned in my seat. I honestly didn’t know what to do. We’d gone out to eat, but it hadn’t been a date. But he had driven me all the way there, and it felt rude not to invite him in.

  I wanted to throw my hands up in the air. This was too complicated.

  Then, I realized that it was only about six thirty, and the sun was still out for a couple of more hours, so it was too early for him to think I was inviting him in for sex.

  Not that I would turn sex down. Hell no. But I didn’t want him to say no to coming inside because he felt like that was what I wanted.

  “Did you want to come in for a minute?”

  “Sure.” He shut off his SUV, and we both got out.

  I unlocked the front door for us and called out Lexie’s name. No answer.

  “I’ll be right back. I’m going to make sure my car is in the garage.”

  “No problem.”

  On my way to check, I set down my purse. My car was safely where it was supposed to be. I let out a deep breath filled with relief. I trusted Lexie, but she was still a sixteen-year-old girl.

  I walked back into the living room. “My car is safe and sound.”

  “That’s good,” Travis said with a nod, but he seemed different. More reserved.

  Maybe he’d changed his mind about Chicago.

  “I thought maybe we should exchange phone numbers. But, if you’ve changed your mind about going with me next month, that’s okay. We don’t know each other that well.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?” I joked.

  “No.”

  Yikes. He hadn’t even cracked a smile. I always did tend to laugh at my own jokes harder than anyone else.

  Something clearly had changed.

  “I’m serious. You really don’t—”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you have something against how I take care of my body?”

  My eyes widened. “No. Not at all. Why would you think that?”

  He softened a little. “In the car. I could tell you didn’t agree with the way I or my ex eat or work out.”

  This seemed like a heavy conversation for two people who were just getting to know each other, but I could tell it bothered him.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “It’s not that I don’t agree with what you do.” I held up a hand. “That’s not entirely true. I don’t understand giving up an entire food group unless it’s medically necessary. But I’m not going to judge you for it. I understand that you have to look a certain way for your pictures. I actually kind of admire your discipline.”

  I shrugged. “But it’s not something I can do, and I’ve been on the receiving end of being judged for liking food and for not being skinny. I dated a guy who wanted to go out and do physical stuff all the time. I like staying home. I like vegging out. Not all the time, but way more than he did. And then there were the subtle hints about my food choices. Obviously, we didn’t date long.”

  That wasn’t that bad to tell, but the next story was worse in my eyes.

  “One of my good friends from college had always been like me. But, about four or five years after we graduated, she met a guy who was an exercise fiend. She started working out and dieting like crazy. I was happy for her until she lost too much weight. She wouldn’t go out to eat with us anymore, and when I did see her eat, she was like a bird. There was no way she was healthy. But what was worse was that she started to make comments to me and our other friends about our weight and eating habits. I finally cut her out of my life when her boyfriend told me that no one would ever date me if I didn’t lose at least twenty pounds. She didn’t defend me.”

  Travis sucked in a breath, a horrified look on his face.

  “I know, right? Real winner there. I’m sure he made comments to my friend all the time, and that’s why she got so thin. We encouraged her to leave, but she was in love.”

  I shook my head as I remembered how hopeless my friends and I had felt at that time.

  “Anyway, society has been telling girls since they were little that they aren’t good enough. It took me a long time to like myself the way I am. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m happy. And I don’t need someone making me feel like something’s wrong with me. I wasn’t judging you, Travis. It’s more like I don’t want you to judge me, even silently.”

  He stared at me for what felt like forever. Then, without warning, he stepped forward. He put his forefinger under my chin and used his thumb to pull my bottom lip down, and he kissed me. Our lips were like the fingers of folding hands, interlacing with one another. I brushed my tongue against his bottom lip, which was pressed between mine.

  Travis stepped back. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Uh … um … uh … in the kitchen.” I stood there for another second. “I’ll go get it.” I shuffled my feet to my purse, almost in a trance, and walked back. “Here you go.”

  He took my phone and turned it back to me. “Can you unlock it?” He smiled, trying not to laugh.

  “Oh.” I laughed at myself. I unlocked the phone and handed it back to him.

  He did a few things before giving it back to me. “I put my number in there and sent a text to myself, so I know it’s you. Text me the Chicago info, okay?”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  He grinned, and all I could see were his dimples. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I nodded again. “Okay.”

  He pulled me forward and kissed my forehead. “Later, Sydney.”

  “So, nothing from Travis?” Harper asked.

  “No. And who does that? Who kisses someone and then just walks away? It’s been two weeks already.”

  Harper carried a glass of wine for me and handed it over. “So, he hasn’t talked to you at all?” she asked as she sat down on her couch next to me.

  I took a sip. “Talked to me? No. We’ve texted back and forth about the Chicago trip, but that’s it. Nothing about the kiss. No asking me if I want to hang out. The guy hasn’t even returned any of my social media follows.” I pouted.

  Harper chuckled. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to bring up the kiss.”

  “Then, he’s going to keep waiting because he’s the one who kissed me. I’m not going to go after him, begging for scraps of his attention. Been there, done that.” I took a long drink this time.

  “Sorry, Syd. I wish I knew what he was thinking.”

  I picked at the back of her couch. “Me, too. But I think, more than that, I wish I’d stop thinking about it. I’ve actually been thinking about canceling the trip. Or at least telling him it’s canceled and going by myself.”

  Harper tilted her head, her eyes sad. “Don’t do that.”

  “Why? I feel like it would relieve a lot of stress.”

  “How about this? Why don’t you just tell yourself that the kiss didn’t happen? If there’s no kiss, there’s nothing to obsess over, and there’s nothing to worry about.” She nodded.

  I looked down my nose at her. “You have met me, right?”

  She laughed. “Yes. And I know that you can do this.” She took a drink of her own wine. “Remember the movie He’s Just Not That Into You?”

  I groaned. “Say no more. You’re right. I have no idea why he kissed me, but it was obviously a fluke.”

  It was amazing what one sentence could do. I was still going to think about it. That couldn’t be helped, but I really didn’t want to be like the girl in the m
ovie. The kiss obviously meant nothing to Travis, and it was best to let it go.

  “Wow. That was kind of easy.”

  I chuckled. “Hey, I remember watching it and feeling so bad for the character who didn’t get it that the guy didn’t like her. I do not want to be like that.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Travis and I are just friends, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  I twirled the wine in my glass, watching it swirl around. “But, if he could just fuck me once, then I’d really let it go.”

  Harper threw her head back and laughed. Suddenly, she gasped, and her eyes lit up.

  “What?”

  “What if something happened with your hotel reservations and you two ended up in the same room?” Her eyes widened. “Even better, there’s only one bed. And it’s a full. You should totally bring condoms.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “What is this? A romance novel?”

  “Why not?”

  “One, I already made the reservation. It is definitely for two rooms. Two, the hotel probably doesn’t have anything smaller than a queen, and if there’s only one bed, it’ll be a king. Three, the hotel would have to be booked full. Four, most hotels have rollaway beds. Five, I wouldn’t want him to think I did it on purpose.” I pointed a finger at her. “Which is why I will not be taking condoms.”

  Harper wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, you’re right. It would be fun though.”

  I looked at her like she was crazy. “What? No way. I wouldn’t sleep a wink with him next to me.”

  “You did in our hotel room.”

  “But that was a short snooze. And we weren’t alone, and we were on top of the covers in our clothes.”

  “I suppose you’re right. But you should still bring protection.”

  I snorted at that ridiculous suggestion.

  “Even if the one-hotel-room, one-bed thing won’t happen with you two, you should totally put something like that in your next book,” she said, pointing her glass at me.

  “It would have to be a really good reason because it’s been done before. A lot.”

  “Yeah. Because it works, and women like to read that shit.”