And while the sex was great, as soon as it was over, I could see the regret in his dark eyes when he was looking down at me. I thought for sure he would freak out, say we made a huge mistake, and tell me to go home and forget anything happened.
But he didn’t.
Winston asked me to come back to his place with him.
I was so shocked and overwhelmed I barely remember putting on my dirty dress, the ride on his motorcycle to get to his apartment, or the shower we took together where he scrubbed me raw with his woodsy-scented body wash before wrapping me in a towel and carrying me into his unmade bed.
The moon is the only light in the room when Winston climbs in beside me and pulls the covers over us, but I can see his profile and know he’s lying on his back, eyes open, staring up at the ceiling.
“Is this what you do with all your dates? Fuck them, wash them, and tuck them into bed?”
“Pretty much,” he answers, with as few words as possible. Which sucks because I thought he was finally starting to open up to me when he basically admitted he was jealous of the other guys I’ve been with.
Not that I’ve been all the way with any of them. Sure, I’ve fooled around here and there with the guys I’ve dated, but Winston was my first. If I had told him I was a virgin, he would’ve put a stop to what we were doing, what I’ve wanted for so long from the beautiful, grumpy man—for him to finally see me as more than a kid.
Now that I’m in his bed, I plan to make the most of it. Rolling onto my side to face him, I let my fingertips trail over the swell of his biceps, back and forth over his warm, smooth skin, just because I can. Eventually, I hear Winston release a heavy exhale. I brace myself for him to tell me to stop touching him and go to sleep, but instead, he throws his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him so I can rest my cheek on his chest with him holding me to his side. Then it’s his fingers that are gliding up and down my upper arm soothingly while mine explore the dips and hills of his hard abs.
There are so many questions in my head, like what happens now that we’ve slept together, what does it mean, does Winston regret it. But instead of delving into any of those deep questions, I simply ask, “Do you always sleep naked?”
“Yes.”
“Even when you lived at home?”
“That’s why I kept my door locked at night,” he says, finally giving me more than a one syllable answer. “Didn’t want you or Mom barging in and seeing my ass or cock hanging out of the covers.”
“Or my dad,” I add with a grin as I imagine him walking in on Winston naked.
“Martin was smart enough to never bust in without knocking first. You and Mom never would, no matter how many times I asked.”
“True,” I agree since that’s a fair assessment. I think I did it in the hope of catching him without clothes on. It sucked when he moved out two years ago. The house was somehow colder without him there to tease and annoy all the time. He would come over to visit his mom some on the weekend, but never stayed very long before leaving again. He always claimed he had some car or motorcycle to work on.
As my fingernails trace up and down his treasure trail, I listen to the steady rhythm of Winston’s heart beating under my ear. It’s so soothing that I know it’ll put me to sleep soon but I’m not ready for this night to end. Since I’m too sore to have him inside of me again, I try to get him to keep talking.
“Why do you like working on cars?” I ask since he spends all his free time in the garage. It’s more than a job to him, it’s like his passion.
“Because I like helping people and I’m good at it,” Winston replies. “No matter what the problem is, I can always figure it out and fix it eventually.”
“So, it’s rewarding?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And you wouldn’t rather be doing anything else?” I ask.
“No,” he says immediately before adding, “Well, if I could do anything, I would race cars, but I’m too fucking big to fit in a Formula One.”
“Really?” I say in surprise. I knew he loved driving like a maniac, but I didn’t think he actually wished he could be a race car driver.
“Yeah. I’m almost six foot four. Most drivers are less than six feet. If they make the car any bigger, it’ll be heavier and slower, so I guess I’m stuck fixing cars.”
“You could work on the pit crew,” I offer.
“Nah. It would be too fucking sad to be right there in all the action and not be a driver.”
“Fair enough,” I say with a smile. “I guess I wouldn’t ever want to be a clothing designer if I can’t make it as a model because it wouldn’t be the same as being in the spotlight.”
“You’ll make it,” Winston says with a squeeze to my shoulder. “In a few years, your face will be all over magazine covers and you’ll be famous.”
“I hope so,” I agree with a sigh. “And maybe in a few years you’ll have your own garage?”
“That would be sick,” he agrees. “Working for myself instead of someone else calling all the shots. I could hire a few mechanics so I could take days off whenever I fucking feel like it.”
“Like you would ever take days off,” I scoff. “You worked tonight just to avoid my party!”
“I should’ve been there,” he mutters.
“Why weren’t you?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond after several long moments. In fact, I can feel him slipping away from me even though he hasn’t physically moved an inch. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m glad you didn’t come because if you had, I doubt I would’ve ended up in your bed tonight.”
“Let’s not make a big deal about it,” Winston grumbles. “And it’s late. We should get some sleep.”
“Yeah,” I agree, disappointed it’s not a big deal to him. It’s huge for me, an incredible night I know I’ll never forget.
In fact, one night with Winston isn’t enough for me, and as I close my eyes, before I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but wonder if maybe it could be more…
“Wake up, Zo,” Winston says with a shake to my shoulder that pulls me out of a deep slumber. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I sit up slowly and watch through the sunlight coming through the blinds of his bedroom window as Winston walks around the room in just his unbuttoned jeans, picking up dirty clothes and tidying up.
I still can’t believe I’m waking up in his apartment, naked in his bed. His place, especially his bedroom, is a classic bachelor pad with no photos hanging on the walls, just the basic furniture—a black king-size bed and matching dresser with pieces of clothing hanging out of each drawer. A box of condoms and a few beer bottles are the only decorations, which of course remind me of last night. It’s hard to believe we were both completely sober when we had sex without protection. And while it felt amazing, we should probably not make that mistake again the next time.
Oh, I can’t wait for the next time, when it hopefully won’t hurt as bad at first and only feel good.
Is that why Winston woke me up?
“You need to get going or you’re gonna miss your plane,” he says.