“I’m only teasing you. And, no. I hate any kind of shit that tells what I can and can’t do. But, honestly. I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again. I know when no means no.” Staring at me, he extends his hand out. “Friends?”
“Why?” I ask, crossing my arms. I’m not buying his act just yet.
Arsen smiles ruefully. “You’re not going to let me live the restaurant incident down, are you?”
I purse my lips, trying not to smile because he’s right.
Chuckling, he lowers his hand and stares out the windshield. “I like you. I like that you don’t put up with my shit. Not many women are able to do that. And you’ll be seeing a lot of me at the office. Apparently, my father wants to teach me work ethics. If I don’t get my shit together, he has threatened to take my trust fund away. So I’m gonna be suckin’ it up to the old man for a while. We’ll be sort of co-workers, and for once I’d like to know someone who doesn’t let me walk all over her, and who won’t suck my dick if I tell her to...”
He grins when he sees the disbelief on my face. The ego!
“I am sure other interns and workers wouldn’t mind getting to know you.”
“Nah. They always want to fuck because they’re attracted to me, or because they want the bragging rights. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love it, but for once I’d like to be just Arsen. I don’t feel like being harassed for my cock or my money or last name while I’m trying to get in father’s good graces. Kinda would backfire if daddy dear walked in on me fucking his executive assistant. However, I know you can’t stand me and hate my guts. Plus, you’re married. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll be a good boy.”
“How do I know you won’t try to pull another one of your theatrics?”
“I told you…I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. This…” he touches himself, “only goes where he’s welcomed, and it’s obvious that we aren’t welcomed by you. I have moved on. Trust me.”
“Okay.” I want to smack him, really, but he is kind of funny when he’s not hitting on me. I can’t fault him for being honest. I like straight-shooters.
I extend my hand, saying, “Okay. Peace offering accepted.”
Arsen accepts my handshake as we smile at each other. I feel a little like I’m making a pact with the devil.
I still don’t fully trust him.
Ben: It cannot be healthy, the way I constantly dream of you.
18 dates.
63 phone calls.
1000+ texts.
4 weeks’ worth of Ben.
The best four weeks of my life.
Falling in love with the wrong person is easy. Falling in love with the right person is easier. But falling in love with your soul mate is easiest.
It’s meant to be.
I don’t think falling is the right word when referring to my feelings for Ben, though. How about soaring? Every time I’m with him I feel like I can fly. I feel weightless.
I feel free.
It’s not like I haven’t felt the butterflies in my stomach before; the loss of sleep because you can’t stop thinking about someone, the crazy high of making out; I’ve felt them all. But with Ben, butterflies don’t just flutter inside me. They ricochet like flying bullets. Falling asleep under a pink and purple sky after a night spent with him is my new normal.
When he whispers between kisses how beautiful I am, how much he loves the way I smell, and how much he wants me, I feel high. And when I feel the scratch of his rough hands touch my body intimately, gently, roughly, but always with need, I am delirious.
Sitting on the steps of my front porch, I watch the falling rain wetting the asphalt. My skin pebbles with goosebumps when the cool autumn air sneaks in between my clothes, touching my body. The chilly air helps to cool down my hot cheeks, a physical reaction that appears every time I think about Ben and what this weekend could mean in our relationship.
Slutty Cathy screams in the back of my mind: It better mean some freaking sex, like, hello! Penis, meet my vagina.
“What’s so funny?” my dad asks, scratching his head when I laugh out loud. He’s sitting next to me while I wait for Ben to arrive.
I shouldn’t be laughing when my worried father is so close to changing his mind about this weekend. Honestly, I was even surprised that my dad allowed it since this will be the first time in my entire life that I’m traveling with a sort of boyfriend, sort of seeing, guy. A guy he knows I’ll probably be having sex with if I haven’t already, on said vacation.
I turn to look at my dad, trying to control my laughter as he watches me with those wise green eyes of his. They are so knowing; they seem to hold the key to the secrets of life.
“Nothing, Daddy. Just something funny that happened during class.”
“I don’t believe you one bit, Missy, but I’m letting it go.”
Sitting so close to him, his familiar scent wafting through my nose, I can see the years’ worth of laugh lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. It reminds me how hard he’s worked to make my life a happy one.
“Daddy, it’s nothing,” I say as I stare at him. “Do you remember when I was eight years old and I cried for an entire week because my best friend, Lisa, was going to Disney and I couldn’t go with her?”
He chuckles. “Of course, how could I not? I tried to reason with you that we couldn’t afford a Disney vacation, but how much logic can you instill in an eight year old?”
I can’t help giggling. “I was quite stubborn…”
“No, you were my angel, and it was my fault.” He takes my hand in his. “I couldn’t take off work and be able to pay for it. But I remember seeing how heartbroken you were.’
“So, you bought me a princess dress instead and pretended to be a dragon,” I state as I watch the man who I love the most in my life. My daddy.
His eyes crinkle as he smiles, remembering that time. “Yes, I took you to the nearest toy store and bought you a princess dress, then took you to Juniper Park where I chased you across the park.”
“Hey! It was an enchanted garden!” I exclaim.
“Those were the days. Now my little girl is making someone else chase after her.”
“Daddy!”
We look at each other and laugh.
My dad is perfect and means the world to me. Maybe one day I’ll get lucky and meet a man like him and marry him.
My mind automatically goes to a pair of brown eyes, but I shut the image out. Really, Cathy?
Watching as the concern written on his face grows, I feel a pang of guilt for not telling him what has been going on between Ben and I, but seriously? How could I? Where would I even begin? Should I tell him that I’m falling so hard for Ben that just the thought of hearing his voice makes my body go hot and cold, sending shivers down my spine? That we can talk on the phone for hours about everything and nothing at all, and most importantly that he makes me giggle like a thirteen year old?
Should I tell him that I’ve waited this long to have sex with Ben because I’m not completely sure he’s over his ex? And that if he were to get back together with her, ending whatever we have going on right now, it would cause some serious damage within me. The kind that makes it hard to breathe.
Should I also tell him that well, even though we “technically” haven’t had sex, we’ve done pretty much everything you can do with two sets of very willing hands and mouths? And that each time we’ve been together, we push the physical boundaries further and further?
As understanding as I think my father is, if he knew exactly what was going on in my mind, I think he’d completely lose it. However, he knows I’m not a virgin anymore. He almost killed Jack, and his father when he found the condom wrapper under my bed.
Talk about awkward.
I reach for my dad and one arm hug him. Pushing my body closer to his, I nuzzle the edge of his sweater clad shoulder, breathing in the smell of rain, musty cotton and his ever familiar cologne. “The boy who happens to be chasing after me is a good guy.” I try to reassure him. But I don’t think he believes me by the look on his face. He knows I’m not telling him the whole story.