by Kylie Keene
“No. I was just checking in on his mom. Brad said she might need help with some things so I gave her my phone number.”
“I see.” He grins. “Well, it was nice of you to offer.” Thankfully, he leaves it at that and doesn’t question my motives any further. “Now can we get to work on the basement? It’s a mess down there.”
“Sure, Dad.” As we pack stuff up, I realize how much I’m going to miss my dad. It’ll be so strange not having him here anymore.
***
Friday night, Grant and I are finally able to go out. As promised, I take him to the diner I love in Saint Paul. Maxine’s Diner. It’s filled with artsy types, but not Grant’s version of artsy types. It’s the type with nose rings and tattoos, not high-fashion dresses and diamonds.
“It’s an interesting place.” As Grant says it, a guy walks by our table wearing a kilt, combat boots, and a black leather jacket.
“I don’t come here for the atmosphere. I come here for the burgers and fries, which are the absolute best.”
He flips through the menu. “Have you had the turkey burger? Or the veggie burger?”
“No, I just get the regular burger. You should get the cheeseburger. It’s really good.”
“I don’t eat much red meat. My family has a history of high cholesterol. I stay away from eggs, too. Whole eggs, not the whites. I make a great egg white, spinach, and feta omelet. I’ll make you one sometime.”
I don’t tell him, but I’m not an egg white girl. I like the whole egg. I’ve never had a problem with my weight, so I pretty much eat whatever I want. I’m sure that will change when I’m older, but for now I don’t worry about it.
“You should try a milkshake. They’re famous for their milkshakes.”
“I think I’ll just get the turkey burger and sweet potato fries. How about you?”
“Burger, fries, and a milkshake. My usual.” I feel like a total pig now. No wonder Grant’s so thin. He eats less than I do.
Fifties music plays in the background and Grant keeps looking up at the speakers like he wishes they’d stop spitting out Elvis songs.
I start laughing. “You hate this place, don’t you?”
He looks around at the funky decor and people. “It’s fine. It has character.”
“Hey, I went to that sushi place. You owe me.”
He smiles and reaches over to hold my hand. “I never would’ve suggested it if you’d told me you hated sushi. So what movie did you pick for tonight?”
“Madison Place. It’s that new comedy. It’s supposed to be really funny. But we can see something else if you want.”
“I told you it’s your choice. If you want to see Madison Place, that’s what we’ll see. Next time it’ll be my choice and I’ve already got the movie picked.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a new French film that just came out. It’s a documentary about the history of champagne.”
“Really?” I scrunch up my face. “Does it have subtitles?”
“Yeah, and it’s three hours long.”
“Um, okay. I’m sure it’ll be very interesting.” I try to show some enthusiasm but I’m already dreading having to watch it.
He laughs. “I’m kidding. That’s not even a real movie. I just made it up.”
I’m so relieved. He’s a great actor. He really had me believing it was an actual film.
Our food arrives, served in red plastic baskets lined with parchment paper.
“Do you want to try my milkshake?” I take my spoon and scoop up the chocolatey mixture. It’s so thick you can’t drink it from a straw.
Grant takes a spoonful. “It’s good.” He takes another spoonful.
“Let’s split it. I’ll get another glass.”
I finally found something we both like. I knew I would. I get a glass from the waitress and pour some of my milkshake in it.
We finish dinner and head to the movie. Afterward, we go to Grant’s apartment. He pours us some wine and we take our glasses over to the couch. He doesn’t bother with the music this time.
“Did I do a better job with our date tonight?” he kids.
“Grant, it’s not like I had a horrible time last weekend. I appreciate that you planned all that stuff. I was just tired from the conference. It took me days to recover.”
“Well, I hope you’re not tired now, because the night’s not over and I don’t want you to leave.” He sets my wine down and starts kissing me. Like really kissing me and it takes me by surprise.
Soon we’re lying on the couch and his hand is working its way under my shirt, unhooking my bra. Shit! Are we having sex? Tonight? I’m not ready. I didn’t expect this at all. Where were the signs? Did I somehow miss them? We had burgers and went to a movie. He held my hand in the movie, but who goes from hand-holding to sex?
I try to relax as his hand moves over my breast and we continue to kiss. I like what he’s doing and I want him to continue, but I’m too worried about whatever’s coming next. If we could just stay where we’re at the rest of the night, I’d be fine. But we’re not teenagers which means hanging out at second base isn’t an option.
I sit up. “I should probably go. I have to get up early tomorrow to help my dad.” There’s nothing like mentioning your dad to kill the mood.
He moves off me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking that it’s getting late.”
“It’s only 11.”
“I know, but I told my dad I’d be over there at 8.” I reach behind my back and hook my bra, then adjust my shirt. I start to stand up but he holds my arm.
“Morgan, if I did something you didn’t like, or aren’t comfortable doing, just tell me.”
“It’s nothing like that. I just need to get up early. That’s all.”
“Let me grab your coat and we’ll go.”
When we get to my place, he walks me to the door. “Are you still okay with us staying in tomorrow night? Because if you’d rather go out, I’m sure I could get us reservations somewhere.”
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and Grant offered to make me dinner. He was going to make a gourmet meal with oysters and prime rib and some kind of fancy potatoes. It would’ve taken him all day to prepare and I didn’t want him doing all that work. Besides I’d rather have a simpler meal. So we decided on homemade pizza instead.
“I still want to stay in,” I tell him. “I’m looking forward to this pizza you’re making.”
“Then I’ll pick you up at 7.”
“That’s okay. You’ll be cooking. I’ll just drive over.”
We kiss goodnight and he leaves. When I get inside my apartment I realize I was totally overreacting tonight. We barely did anything and yet I assumed it would lead to sex.
I always screw up relationships at this stage. Just when it starts to get intimate, I panic and break up with the guy or he breaks up with me. Usually I don’t care. But I like Grant, and I don’t want to end things with him. So far, he’s been the perfect boyfriend. He calls when he says he will. He shows up on time for our dates. He has good manners. He dresses well and he has excellent grooming habits.
I need to stop making such a big deal out of sex and just do it with him. If we keep dating, it’ll happen eventually. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would judge me for my lack of sexual experience. And I’m attracted to him and liked what we were doing tonight. Plus, tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, a holiday centered around love and sex. Everyone does it on Valentine’s Day. I’m sure Grant is planning on us doing it.
The decision is made. I’m losing it to Grant.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
17
The next day I go back to my dad’s house and help him pack. My mind is preoccupied with the sex I might be having with Grant tonight, which is not a good thing to have in your head when you’re hanging out with your dad. And even worse, my dad senses something’s up. He keeps having to repeat himself because my head is elsewhere, but at least he doesn’t know where.
I leave his house around 3 and race home to get ready. If this is happening tonight, I have to be prepared. That means showering, shaving, plucking, lotioning, perfuming, makeuping, and finally, dressing. It’s exhausting enough getting ready for a date but getting ready for sex is even more taxing.
I put on my sexy new underwear and bra along with dark skinny jeans and a pale pink v-neck sweater. It’s just pizza at his place. I don’t want to overdress. On the way over there, I stop and get some dark chocolate from a gourmet food shop. I felt like I should bring something since he’s making me dinner, and the dark chocolate seemed like a sexy dessert and appropriate for Valentine’s Day.
When I get there, he has popular music playing instead of that slow jazz music he had playing before.
“Hi. Come on in.” He gives me a kiss. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
He takes my coat and points to a dozen red roses sitting in a vase on the table. “Those are for you.”
I kiss him again. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
He leads me to the kitchen. “Want some wine?”
“Sure, I’ll have some.”
He pours us each a glass of merlot. “The pizza’s in the oven. It’s almost done.”
He also made a salad, which is already sitting on the table in a deep wooden bowl.
He comes around the island to where I’m standing and hands me the glass of wine. “How was the packing?”
“Good. We’re almost done. Oh, I almost forgot. I brought dessert.” I set my wine down and go back to the table where I left the chocolates and bring them over to him. “These are from a little shop by my apartment that sells all locally made foods.”
“Thanks.” He sets the box of chocolates on the counter and wraps his arms around my waist. “And I made a cheesecake so we can have both.”
“Pizza and cheesecake? I thought you were into healthy eating.”
“I figured we could splurge on the cheesecake because the pizza’s vegetarian. Just tomatoes and basil.”
“It smells really good.”
“So do you.” He dips his head down to my neck, softly kissing it.
I wore perfume tonight but I also covered my body in scented lotion so I must smell like a mix of fragrances. I guess I should’ve just picked the lotion or the perfume, not both. But Grant seems to like the combo of the two.
He holds me closer and puts his lips to mine just as the oven timer goes off. “I’ll be right back.”
I smile. “Okay.”
As he walks over to the oven, he says, “Do you cook? I don’t think you ever said.”
“No, I don’t like to cook. I know that sounds odd for a food scientist, but when you think about food all day, you don’t have any interest in cooking when you get home. I spend all day analyzing every little detail about the products I work on, so when I’m home I just try to enjoy my food and not overthink it.”
“That’s funny because I’m the opposite. When I eat, I try to notice all the different flavors and textures, the aroma, everything.”
“Maybe you should work in the food lab,” I kid.
I watch as he opens the oven door to check on the pizza. He looks really hot tonight, wearing dark jeans and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I notice his watch. It’s a big silver watch—very cool. I admit I tend to judge a man by his watch. An ugly watch is a real turn-off.
I sip my wine, then go over to him as he’s turning away from the oven. I kiss him, taking him by surprise. He puts his arms around me and kisses me back as he leans me against the kitchen island.
“Did you want to skip dinner?” he asks. “Or is this just an appetizer?”
“Just an appetizer.” I run my hand through his thick wavy hair.
“Are you sure?” His lips brush against mine as he says it.
“Yeah. I really want to try the pizza.”
“It needs a few more minutes.” He smiles. “Let’s get back to the appetizer.”
We kiss until the oven beeps again. “You should probably get that.” I pull away from him and go back over to my wine.
He takes the pizza out of the oven and puts it on the counter. It looks like something from a restaurant. It has a rustic, cornmeal-dusted crust and bubbly golden-brown cheese on top with thin slices of tomatoes peeking through.
“That looks amazing, Grant. You’re really talented in the kitchen.”
He gives me a flirtatious smile. “I have other talents I’ll show you later.”
He’s definitely expecting sex tonight. Good thing I’m prepared. Well, I kind of am. Part of me still doesn’t feel ready, but I think that’s just nerves. I’m sure once we get into it, I’ll be fine.
We eat dinner and the pizza is delicious. The salad’s good, too. Grant even made his own dressing. What girl doesn’t love a guy who can cook? I bet he’s used this homemade meal trick to get a woman in bed many times before.
I try not to overeat, knowing what’s coming later. I have just a small sliver of cheesecake and one piece of chocolate for dessert.
“That was delicious,” I say as I help him clear the table. “I know you like going out, but to me, this was perfect.”
“I don’t mind staying in sometimes, especially when it’s with you.” He leans down and kisses me, taking the plate from my hand and setting it on the counter.
“Shouldn’t we clean up first?”
“I’ll do it later. Let’s go sit down.”
I guess he’s not waiting. We’re doing this now and I’m still not 100% ready. Why am I not ready? Why can’t I just do this?
As he leads me to the couch, my cell phone rings. “Hold on. I’ll turn it off.” I go over to my purse and search for my phone. It’s buried at the very bottom and as I’m fumbling to get it, a slip of paper comes flying out.
“I think you dropped something.” Grant points to the floor.
I turn my phone off and reach down to pick up the piece of paper. It’s the one Brad’s mom gave me with his phone number written on it. I can hear Paige in my head telling me the paper flying out of my purse is a sign. Fate telling me I shouldn’t be doing what I’m about to do. I stare at Brad’s number for just a moment, then stash it back in my purse.
“Are you coming back?” I glance over and see Grant smiling at me.
I meet him on the couch and we continue where we left off. Except now, as I’m kissing Grant, images of Brad keep popping up in my head. His smile. His touch. His voice. Even the scent of his cologne is in my head.
I get this nagging feeling telling me not to go through with this. It’s telling me to wait, but I don’t know what for. Why would I wait?
I shake Brad from my thoughts and try to focus on Grant. He’s practically the perfect man. I’m nervous about having sex with him, but I’m sure I’d be nervous with any guy.
I can’t keep putting this off. It’s happening tonight and it’s happening with Grant.
We’ve been kissing for several minutes now and his hand moves to my breast. Unlike his kisses, his touch causes some heat to build inside me. He lifts my sweater over my head, then kisses my neck as I unbutton his shirt. He takes it off and I check out his smooth, lean chest, noticing the defined outline of his abs. It totally turns me on. I lie back on the couch and he follows, his mouth covering mine, his tongue going past my lips. After a few minutes, he reaches down and unbuttons my jeans.
I’m feeling anxious and nervous again. I need to get this moving along before I chicken out.
“Should we go to the bedroom?” I whisper.
He stops suddenly. “Um, yeah, we can.”
He’s acting strange. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to go to the bedroom. Does he prefer couch sex? I don’t want my first time to be on his couch. It’s uncomfortable, plus other people will be sitting on it, which is gross. I’m surprised he would even do that given his need to have everything clean.
“You don’t want to go in there?” I try to re
ad his expression.
He gets off me, sitting back on the couch. “I do. But I should tell you something first.”
Oh, great. Here it comes. I knew he was too perfect. He’s hiding some deep dark secret that I’m sure I don’t want to know. Does he have a girlfriend back in Omaha? Is he married? Does he have an STD? Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. What is it?”
“I’m a virgin.”
“You’re a what?” I try not to act shocked. But I’m completely shocked! “Did you just say you’re a virgin?”
“I’m not a virgin in the traditional definition. I’ve had sex before, back in college. But since then I’ve been a born-again virgin.”
I stare at him, trying to figure this out. A born-again virgin? Is that a Christian virgin? Is there some ritual involved? He never mentioned belonging to a church.
“Is this something that has to do with your religion?”
“It has nothing to do with religion, at least it doesn’t for me. It basically means you’ve had sex before, but then you decide to abstain until marriage or until you’re engaged.”
“Oh. So how long have you been a born-again virgin?”
“Almost 3 years.”
“Was there a reason you did this? Or if you don’t want to say, that’s fine.”
“I just got tired of sleeping around. I know I’m probably the only guy in history to say that. But the thing is, I was with a lot of girls in college. Not in law school but as an undergrad. And it was fun for a while.” He smiles. “Believe me, I had a good time. It just got old. Going to bars every night. Hooking up on the first or second date. You don’t get a chance to know someone. And no offense if you do that. I’m not judging. I’m just looking for more than that.”
“But what if you’ve been dating a girl for months? You still won’t have sex with her?”
“If she’s the right person for me and I see us having a future together, then maybe. But since starting this, I haven’t dated anyone for that long so I don’t know.”
I take a moment to think about this. So I’m finally ready to have sex with a guy and he turns out to be a born-again virgin? I can’t believe this.