“Go back to sleep,” I whisper hoarsely.
She doesn’t respond, she just stares at me for a silent beat. Eyes holding mine she slides inches higher on my body, the feel of her brushing against me robs me of my next breath. She’s an inch closer, numbing me with anticipation. And an inch closer. My heart is denting my ribcage with its thunderous drumming.
An inch closer and . . . the inevitable happens.
At first, it’s just a hesitant brush of her lips on mine. Feathery and electrifying, followed by her hand sliding gently to my stubbled cheek. Her fingers explore my neck, reaching up to my hair while her lips explore mine.
And I’m fucking gone.
With an incoherent growl that bubbles up from deep inside my throat, I press my lips to hers, tasting her. She inches closer and I send my hand to cup her butt and press her tighter against me. The feeling of her pressed so closely against me sends my eyes to roll back inside my head and for a lustful heat to take over me. We’re in a blur of limbs, lips, tongues, breathy gasps, urgent needy touches as if all the barriers have been broken and our desires are out to conquer. When my alarm sounds again and rips the silence of the room that was otherwise colored by sporadic breathy, needy sounds, there’s barely a sliver of space between us. We’re tangled together, my fingers grazing over Anna’s ribcage while hers rake through my hair, our mouths inches apart.
The shrill sound persists, sobering us up.
Anna burrows her face in my neck, and I raise my eyes to the ceiling as we both catch our breaths. I run my hand up and down her back. “I have to go.” My words come out graveled. My head spins with a million thoughts as I unpeel myself from her and shrug on my jeans.
What was I thinking? I clearly wasn’t.
Putting us in an intimate situation, no brainer, only a matter of time before a fire breaks out. I sit on the bed to put my socks and shoes on. As I lace one shoe, I throw Anna a look over my shoulder. She watches me quietly, hugging the comforter to her chest. When ramifications of what just happened start building up in my head, it overwhelms me. I need to talk to her. I’ll do it over dinner tonight. I must.
Ready to leave, I turn to her and press a kiss to her forehead. “See you tonight.” And I head out of the room, afraid that if I stay even a second more, I’d either say something I’d regret or send everything to fucking hell and dive back into bed with her.
Surround Yourself with Tacos and Not Negativity
“Take a deep breath in,” I inhale, close my eyes and bam an image of Liam with eyes hooded slamming his lips on mine flashes before my eyes. A hot wave washes over me. And the feel of him conjures as if he’s touching me right now while I’m lying on a mat trying to bring these people to rhythmic yoga breathing. I can hardly bring a single breath into my own lungs without reliving the hottest makeout sessions in the history of makeout sessions.
I inwardly shake off any thoughts of Liam and try to focus on the class I’m teaching. “Bring your hand to your ribcage and feel the breath.” Hand on ribcage, Liam’s hand on my ribcage. Bam, an image of him with his hair tousled as he looked at me like he’s seconds from ravishing me. Every point in my body remembers last night, and they all congregate to vehemently protest, we want more, we want more.
I honestly don’t know how I managed to go through a yoga class, Pilates, and four aerobics classes today, but somehow it happened and I’m closing the studio to run home, do a quick shower and a couple of beauty touches, your usual get ready for a date thing. On my way home, I contemplate attire stuff. What does one wear to a casual dinner where you hope the tacos will be as good as promised and you’ll be dessert? Simple, something pragmatic and cute. A white cotton shirt dress that looks nice and can be removed in a blink paired with a jean jacket and pink ballerina flats that can be thrown off at a moment’s notice.
I have about twenty minutes for all getting ready activities and with that in mind, I unlock the door and start shrugging my clothes off even before it’s completely shut.
I’m breathless when I lock the door on my way out twenty minutes later and go on my merry way to eat dinner and then some. I search for keys when my phone beeps with an incoming message. With the car idling, I read the message from Panda.
Pandora to CHICKENS: Okay, just shoot me. Make it quick so I won’t have to suffer anymore. I can’t do it myself, too much of a chicken shit, also having a hard time riding something as fabulous as me.
Kayla to CHICKENS: I won’t do it myself, not too keen on doing time. But I know people.
Victoria to CHICKENS: Who are you, DrummerGirl? Other Chickens who aren’t drummers and criminals in the making, there’s a background check to be had. I bet some unorthodox things are going on in the basement of DrummerGirl house.
Kayla to CHICKENS: I know where you live, businesswoman barbie.
Anna to CHICKENS: What have you done now, Pandora Violet Wallkins?
Pandora to CHICKENS: So.
Pandora to CHICKENS: I
Pandora to CHICKENS: Left
Pandora to CHICKENS: My
Pandora to CHICKENS: Diva Cup in Jonathan’s bathroom.
2 minutes later
Anna to CHICKENS: Panda?
Victoria to CHICKENS: Panda? where did she go?
Kayla to CHICKENS: ?
I start the car a moment later, and as I begin my drive my phone rings. Apparently, we’re on a conf call hosted by Panda. Next comes Panda’s voice raised and hurried. “And his parents came for a visit, the first time I meet them, can you imagine, and his dad comes out of the bathroom holding it in his hand, asking if it was a cup for mouthwash because it’s the right size and where can he get one. I almost died asking him if he happened to use it for . . . mouthwash. And then there was a whole conversation on how you use it. Not the best first conversation you want to have with your boyfriend’s parents.”
Vicky produces some lovely retching sounds. “He touched it? I’m going to gag.”
“Big deal, just plastic.” Kayla nonchalantly.
“Big deal? Really though? His dad holding it. It was in her motherloving coochie, collecting blood,” Vicky adds, her voice a couple of octaves higher.
“When you put it like that . . . ”
“Panda, I’m sorry that was your first meeting with Jona – can we call the poor guy by his given name already?” I shake my head. “But think about it,” I add. “What a memorable one it was. You’ll be able to tell your kids how grandpa almost gurgled with mommy’s menstrual cup. Okay, I got to drop the call. I’ve arrived.”
“Arrived where?” Pandora asks.
“Liam’s.”
“Oh, lil’ sis, enjoy the fuckathon,” Vicky contributes her little gem.
I chuckle and say, “Don’t mind if I do. Byeeeeeee.”
“Wait a minute, are they boning now?” I manage to hear Pandora ask before dropping the call.
All through the drive a million and seven butterflies were doing the conga in my belly, drunk on tequila, wild and excited like catholic schoolboys at their first boy-girl party. And when I’m about to knock on the door they toss the smokes and drinks in panic, running amok every which way, wreaking havoc on my insides. I just know that something’s about to happen and it’ll change everything. I just know it and it scares me and excites me in equal measures.