by Alex Grayson
“Back to my original question. Any plans this weekend?”
I nod. “I do, in fact. I have a date this weekend.” I stuff my earbuds back into my purse. I’m done shopping anyway.
“Nice,” Eric says. He holds the box of condoms up, jiggling it. “Well, I better get going. As you’ve already guessed, I have plans myself, and I have a few more things to get.”
Face flaming hot once more, I bid him good-bye and he turns and walks away.
That was strange.
Just as he turned, I could have sworn I saw a flash of something in his eyes. I’m not sure what exactly, but it made me shiver.
Shaking off the feeling, I push my cart to the front of the store to check out. It doesn’t take the cashier long, as I only got a minimal amount of items. I hate grocery shopping. It’s tedious and if I didn’t have to eat, I wouldn’t do it.
I’m at my car, loading the few bags in the trunk and getting ready to pick up the twenty-four pack of water, when Eric’s voice stops me.
“Let me get that for you,” he says as he effortlessly picks up the heavy load and sets it in the back of my car, making sure to avoid squishing the other items.
“Thank you,” I reply, and close the trunk with a slam.
“No problem.” He smiles, showing off a set of bright white teeth.
He just stands there, and I’m not sure what else to say, so I nervously jiggle my keys in my hand. I don’t do well in awkward situations, and this shouldn’t even be one, but that’s the way it feels. I don’t associate with people from work outside of the office, except for Liv. It’s not that I’m stuck-up, I’ve just never really been given the opportunity. If there are work functions, they’re usually in the office, and because of that, it’s normally work we talk about. Seeing Eric outside the office seems strange; it’s easier to talk to him at work.
“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask if you wanted to go get dinner sometime?”
Caught off guard by his question, I stand there like a moron and stare at him. After several seconds, my eyes land on the bag that he’s holding, reminding me of what he was buying inside. It puts a sour taste in my mouth, knowing he’s asking me out when he just bought condoms to use with another girl. I wouldn’t have thought Eric would be the type, but it just goes to show how little us women actually know about men.
“In light of what you were just buying, I’ll have to decline, but thank you.” I’m sure Eric doesn’t miss the look of disdain I can’t hide from my face before I turn away from him to walk to the driver’s side door.
“Wait!” he shouts from behind me. Disappointed that Eric would be classified in the douchebag category when this whole time I thought he was a good guy, I turn to face him. He’s rounded the car and is now standing directly behind me.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he whispers, leaning closer.
Not sure where this is going, but wanting it over with, I nod.
“They aren’t really mine,” he says sheepishly.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“These.” He holds the bag up that has a few other items in it besides the box of condoms.
Does he take me for a fool?
He chuckles at my doubtful look. “Really, they aren’t. This’ll sound strange, but they’re for my sister.”
Now I’m getting pissed, and I show it by scowling. There’s no way this man is buying condoms for his sister. What older brother does that? Not to mention, she has to be old enough to buy them herself. The guy can’t be a day younger than thirty-five, unless his parents had a late child.
He must sense my anger because his laugh dies a slow death and is replaced by a more serious expression.
“Look, my sister is sort of a hothead wild child. She’s sixteen and stuck on her I’ll-do-what-I-want-and-I-don’t-care-if-you-like-it attitude, and that includes having sex. She’s not reliable enough to take her birth control pills. My parents hate it and so do I, but there’s nothing we can really do about it, save for locking her in her room and putting bars on her windows. That’ll just push her further away. In order to keep her safe, I regularly buy her condoms.”
I stand quietly, listening to him. Having never went through that phase, I can’t imagine what he and his parents are going through, but I bet it can’t be easy.
When I don’t say anything, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “If you don’t believe me, I can show you the text she sent me earlier.”
I put my hand over his as he types something on the phone. “No. I believe you,” I tell him honestly. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
He looks at my hand for a minute before bringing his eyes to mine. The brown in them seems much deeper up close, almost black. And it goes perfectly with his thick lashes. I drop my hand back to my side.
“No worries. I kind of led you on back there. It’s reasonable that you wouldn’t believe me.” He slips his phone back inside his pocket. “So, what do you say? Will you allow me to take you out for an early dinner one day after work?”
It’s strange, really. Three months ago, I finally started dating again. I went from having no dates in over a year to dating guys from a dating site and having a coworker ask me out to dinner. Not to mention, a nameless man who sends me flowers.
I look at Eric and see genuine interest. It’s flattering that he wants to take me out. Despite him leading me on about the condoms, he really is nice, and certainly not hard to look at. But do I really want to go out with him? Yes, I’ve dated several guys in the last three months, but this seems different. Eric and I don’t really know each other, but in a sense, through work, we do.
When I don’t answer right away, Eric takes another step toward me. I feel his fingers brush mine.
“It’s just dinner, Poppy. Nothing more. We can both take our own cars, and if you want to leave early you can. I know you said you have a date tomorrow. Is it serious?”
“No, not serious.” I don’t miss the relief that flashes over his face.
I take a second to think it over. It’s only dinner, what could it hurt? I really like Eric and he’s always been sweet to me, so that’s a bonus. The dates from the dating site have all been epic failures. I don’t even know why I go on them anymore.
I smile at him softly and reply, “I’d love to.”
His answering smile reveals a dimple in his left cheek that I’d never noticed before. It makes him look even more handsome. That’s just another thing that adds to the appeal of him; I love dimples.
“Great! How does this Wednesday sound?”
“Wednesday is good for me,” I tell him, and the dimple grows deeper.
He takes the keys from my hand and opens my door. I grin at his gentlemanly move and he winks at me. He hands me my keys as I slide into my seat, and when he closes my door, I immediately crank it and put down my window.
With his hands on the window, he bends down and says, “I’ll see you Monday at work.”
“Okay. Thanks for the help.”
With another dimpled smile and a tap to my door, he backs up. I maneuver out of my spot. As I drive away, I look in my rearview mirror to see Eric still standing there, watching me.
I pull up to the house and unload the groceries. Once done, I decide to pop in a TV dinner. It’s not often that I cook since it’s just me I have to feed. While I wait for my food to heat, I notice my phone flashing a notification. I grab it and lean back against the counter.
My breath catches when I recognize the number on the text message as the same one from this morning. I’m actually surprised he’s messaging me again. I’d figured it was a one-time deal. I mean, it’s been eight months and no word, so why now? But I can’t lie, seeing his number again sends pleasure racing through me. Is it wrong for me to be a little fascinated with an idea of the man he could be?
I notice the time on the message. He must have sent it right after I got home.
Unknown: Did you have a good day at work?
I smile down at the message.
I still feel extremely nervous about this new development, but I’m not going to let it deter me from trying to get to know the guy behind the flowers. I just hope he’ll be more forthcoming with his answers this time around. I play nice, trying to butter him up.
Me: I did, thank you. How was your day?
The microwave dings, and I take my food out, placing it on the counter as I wait for him to reply. Receiving these messages from a man I don’t know at all feels weird, but a school girl giddy sort of weird.
Unknown: It was good. Busy.
I pull the plastic covering off the black frozen dinner container and place it on a plate. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I carry everything to the living room, where I set it on the coffee table before taking a seat. My food is too hot, so I sit back and send my mystery man another message.
Me: Are you going to tell me who you are?
Unknown: Not yet.
I grit my teeth in frustration, done with this game.
Me: When?
Unknown: Soon…
Damn it!
Unknown: Tell me about your day.
Why in the hell should I do that? He won’t answer my questions. Why should I give him more information on me? I know that sounds childish and immature, but shit, I have a right to know who he is. Nevertheless, if I play this game, giving him just enough to keep the conversation going, he may slip and give me something I can use.
Me: I woke up, got dressed, went to work, left work, picked up some groceries and came home.
I drop my phone on the cushion beside me, still a little peeved, and pick up my plate. A minute later my phone chimes again.
Unknown: Are you always a wise-ass?
Me: Only when provoked.
Unknown: Hmm…and how have you been provoked?
What an ass.
Me: Are you serious? Really?
Unknown: Looking at my last message, I would say yes, I did ask you.
Me: Now who’s being the wise-ass?
I smirk to myself.
Unknown: You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?
Presumptuous much? Wait. A handful? Who in the hell does this guy think he is?
Me: Is that some sort of insult?
I take a bite of my food and wait impatiently for him to respond.
Unknown: No. Believe me, I’m going to enjoy stuffing something in your smart mouth to keep it quiet. I’m counting on you to keep the smart-ass comments coming, so I have more reasons to keep your mouth full, while I keep my hands full.
I drop my fork to my plate with a clatter, completely floored by his comments. I don’t know if I should be pissed he would be so brazen and disrespectful, or turned on from the visual he just gave me. I may not know who this man is or what he looks like. He could be a serial killer for all I know, or a pimply faced teenager. It doesn’t matter, though. I can’t help the quiver I feel inside my stomach. I’m an idiot, and I damn sure know it.
Me: I can’t believe you just said that to me.
Unknown: I only speak the truth.
Me: You’re definitely not helping your case. Who says that to a complete stranger? And why the hell would you think I’d ever let you touch me, in any way.
Unknown: You will in good time, Poppy. And when you do, believe me, you’ll want me stuffing every part of you.
Holy hell. This man knows no bounds. He’s really starting to piss me off, making such sick and ridiculous assumptions.
Unknown: Besides, you’re no stranger to me. There’s a lot I know about you, Beautiful.
But I don’t know dick about you, asshole, but it’s something I desperately want to rectify. As frustrating and cocky as he is, I really want to know him, consequences be damned.
Me: What do you know about me?
Unknown: That will be a conversation for another day.
I give up on eating. There’s no way I can stomach food now. I set my plate on the table and down some of my water.
Me: Tell me your name.
Unknown: How about I give you another letter instead?
Seriously? Are we in middle school or something?
Me: Don’t bother. I want a name.
Unknown: E.
Me: So, what? Am I supposed to call you Mr. AE?
Unknown: Again with the smart-mouth. I have so many plans for that mouth when we meet.
I roll my eyes, but can’t keep the small smile from my face.
Me: Keep talking like that and we won’t.
I take my plate to the kitchen, dump the microwave container in the trash and put the plate in the dishwasher. I walk to the bedroom and set the phone on the dresser as I start removing my jewelry so I can take a shower. My phone pings as I’m closing my jewelry box.
Unknown: Oh, we’re definitely going to meet. It’s inevitable.
Me: And how can you be so sure? You seem rather cocky and too self-assured for my taste.
Unknown: Because you’re mine.
I just make it to the sink in the bathroom when I freeze. What? I have to read the message two more times before I realize my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, and I’m actually seeing what I thought I saw. I don’t even know how to process his last message. I know nothing of this man, and he’s already laying claim to me? Someone he’s never even met? Who does that? I read romance novels, and the whole alpha male persona has always been my favorite. But do men really do that in real life? And would I want a man to lay claim to me, especially this one?
Warning bells start going off in my head. This could turn out either way. With my abused body chopped up dead somewhere in the woods, or me with the type of man I’ve read about. A man that every girl secretly wishes she had. Am I stupid for even entertaining the thought that this could be a good thing? Again, I berate myself for letting a complete stranger get to me.
I continue to stand frozen on the spot, trying to form a reply. I must have been standing there several minutes because my phone alerts me of a new message.
Unknown: Have I scared you?
Pulling in a deep breath, I answer honestly.
Me: Quite frankly, yes.
Unknown: Don’t be scared, Poppy. Being mine is something you’ll find very enjoyable.
Me: How in the hell am I supposed to know that? And who claims a complete stranger? We don’t live in the dark ages anymore.
Unknown: You’ll see soon enough how pleasurable it can be. And to answer your other question, I do. The very second my eyes first landed on you.
Me: You’re certifiably crazy. Wait. Do you live in the crazy house? Did you steal one of the orderly’s phones?
I’m only half-joking at this point.
Unknown: Not very funny. I can assure you, I am very sound of mind.
“That’s debatable,” I mutter to myself.
I ask him one question I’ve been curious about since this morning.
Me: Why now?
There’s no need to elaborate. He knows what I’m asking, and he proves me right with his answer.
Unknown: Because my control is wearing thin. I’ve waited long enough, and the time has finally come to make my intentions known.
Once again, his words knock the wind out of me. How in the hell can a virtual stranger cause my body to go haywire? This man has me on my toes. I have no clue what he’ll say next, or what effect his words will have on my body. I accused him of being the crazy one, but now it appears that I am. This stranger has me so intrigued, I’m completely disregarding every single warning I should take into consideration.
Unknown: Enjoy your shower. Have a good night, beautiful Poppy. Sweet dreams.
I drop my phone on the sink, my mind reeling with too many thoughts. With my hands resting on the basin, I pick my head up and look in the mirror. I’m not surprised to see my face is flushed. This unknown man, in an extremely short amount of time, has me feeling things I never would have thought I could feel… from a stranger, no less. I’m not sure I like it, but it’s also not something I can ignore. The thought c
rosses my mind that I could stop all this. I could tell him… shit, I don’t even know what to call him. I could tell Mr. AE that I don’t want to have anything to do with him. Call this whole thing off and put him from my mind. I could refuse the flower deliveries and ignore his texts. However, I don’t take him for the type to simply give up.
I release my grip on the sink and walk back out to my bedroom when a thought enters my head, causing my body to seize.
How in the hell did he know I was taking a shower?
Chapter Five
Poppy
Last night was not a good night for me. I tossed and turned, being haunted by a faceless man. I dreamed. I know I did. But the only parts I remember are of a man standing in front of me, about ten feet away. It was dark out and he wore a black jacket. The hood was pulled over his head, rendering his face in dark shadows. My heart beat erratically and my body shook with excited energy when he slowly reached up to his hood, only for my treacherous body to wake up before his face was revealed.
I bolted up in bed, covered in sweat, with the sheets tangled around my legs and my breathing coming in loud huffs. After several seconds, I flopped back on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling until I drifted back to sleep, only to be woken again with the same dream. This happened four times before I gave up on sleep.
I crawled from my bed and did what I always did when I was stressed or worried—I cleaned. At four in the morning I was on my hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. Once that was done, I removed everything from my cabinets, cleaned the shelves, and rearranged everything before putting it all back. Next was washing every window in my house. Cleaning always helped me clear my mind; I got that trait from my mom. There were many times you’d catch us both cleaning the house from top to bottom. There was no need for spring cleaning in our house because it never got to the point where we needed to. Everything was already done.
As hard as I scrubbed the floor and windows, my thoughts kept going to Sterling, a name I dubbed my mystery man last night. I mean, I can’t very well keep referring to him as my mystery man, even though that’s what he is. I figured Sterling was a perfect match because of the roses he sends.