“At some point, you might want to figure out a way to slow down before you turn forty and realize that you’ve been spending all your life working and not enjoying it.”
He grins. “It’s not all work. There’s the occasional weekend when I go to Colorado to visit my family, hike a fourteener, and skydive.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Do we need a destination? I really don’t have anything in mind. I just wanted to catch up with you. Fifteen minutes wasn’t enough.”
“It wasn’t.”
“We could have a drink. There’s a bar close by that’s quiet.” He arches his eyebrow. “You can drink, right?”
I burst into laughter. “I’m twenty-two.”
“You’re still a kid.”
“And you’re close to reaching senior citizen status.” I shrug. “It’s the circle of life.”
“I’m not that old.”
“I’m not that young,” I argue. “I kind of understand why you freaked out, but also, you have to understand my side. After something so intense, you rejected me.”
We go down a set of stairs. He opens a door, and there’s a small bar with jazz music playing. The tables are small, and the people are older than I anticipated. I want to remark on the senior citizen joke, but I’m afraid I’ll be offending some of the customers. They aren’t that old, but they are a lot older than me.
We grab a table. He focuses his attention on me and asks, “What do you want to drink?”
“Tequila, chilled, and a glass of water.”
He comes back with a beer and two glasses. When he sits down, he says, “It wasn’t my intention to reject you. I was angry at myself, never at you. It was my responsibility to ask, ‘Hey, how old are you?’”
“You didn’t take advantage of me,” I assure him. “Except for that outburst, it was perfect. I’m one of the few women who can say my first time was great.”
His eyes open wide, his mouth too. “You’re kidding me, right?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Isn’t that something you cherish and save for… fuck, I feel like an asshole.”
I reach out for his hand. “Please, don’t feel bad. I was aware of what was happening. Having sex was something I never romanticized. Maybe it’s because my friends kept complaining about it. How bad it was, how much it hurt. I thought, this guy cares, he kisses like no one else. Perhaps it won’t be awful.”
“Was it good?”
I try not to laugh, but I do. “That’s my current problem. It was too good, and now I’m having trouble finding a guy. They don’t even know how to kiss.”
“You can thank my sister.”
“Why?”
“She once complained about how bad her first and second times were. She said if guys were less into getting immediate gratification and more into making a woman feel wanted, they’d enjoy sex a lot more.”
“You have those kinds of conversations with your sister?”
“I beg her to stop, but Persy likes to yap nonsense all the time.” He moves his hand as if it’s a puppet. “She complains about our parents, but like them, she has zero inhibitions or filters.”
“That’s something I wish I had, siblings.”
“I have three sisters. You can take one or two,” he jokes.
We talk some more about his sisters. He tells me that his parents separated last spring. Since they are teachers and have summers off, his dad took off to help Gil on an excavation.
“It’s weird to be twenty-seven and hear that your parents might divorce.”
“I don’t remember much of my parents’ marriage,” I confess. “It’d be devastating if Dad and Dan suddenly say they are separating or divorcing.”
“Because they’re soulmates?”
I nod. “Maybe your parents are growing apart, and they haven’t spent enough time to fall in love with who they are becoming.”
He snaps his fingers. “This is why I didn’t think about your age. You sound like an old soul.”
I grin. “That’s what Dan says all the time. I can be mature, but then, I can be reckless too.”
My phone rings. “Hey, Dad.”
“Just a reminder that your plane leaves at six in the morning. That means arriving at the airport at least at four. It’s midnight.”
“It can’t be midnight.” I frown.
Eros shows me his watch and shrugs. “Tell him we’re on our way back.”
“Thank you for the heads-up, Dad.”
As we make our way back to the hotel, I explain why Dad is freaking out.
“It’d be best if you stay awake until you have to go to the airport,” he suggests. “I do that all the time.”
“Are you still living at Gil’s?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nah. I could, but once I got a job, it felt wrong. It was like freeloading off of my parents. I moved into a small apartment in Brooklyn.”
When we arrive at the hotel, I want to ask him to come upstairs with me. We could talk until I have to leave, just like he suggested.
“This is it,” I mumble.
“Thank you for tonight. I forgot how nice it is to spend the evening chatting with you.”
His eyes look at me intensely. He bends over, cups my chin, and gives me a soft, gentle kiss on the lips.
“So, this is it?”
He nods. “For now. I have the feeling that I’ll see you again someday.”
“Maybe you’ll have the wife and the kids.”
“And you’ll have your shit figured out and not just ideas.”
I toss my arms around his neck and hug him. He hugs me back, and his mouth finds mine. This is something I don’t understand. Our mouths are like magnets attracting each other. His lips are so addictive. I can’t get enough of them. It’s hard to resist them. Impossible.
If things were different, maybe this could become a lot more. I wouldn’t have to be wondering if the next guy I flirt with is a good kisser or would care about me. This guy is so easy to be around. Should I move to New York?
Not for a guy. I need to let it go—let him go. He has someone, and his life is all figured out. I have a lot to do before I can even think about my future.
“Goodbye,” I say, taking a step back.
He kisses my cheek one more time. “It’s not goodbye. It’s see you around.”
Chapter Nine
Eros
Memorial Day weekend is one of my least favorite weekends of the year. Once my parents switched jobs and became teachers, they proclaimed this to be our family’s official vacation. It sounds like fun, except it’s more like a camping trip where we’re not allowed to bring any electronics. It’s just the six of us and nature.
“You should talk them into switching the location to somewhere more vacation-like and less primitive,” I complain to my sisters.
Persy grins. “Next year you should join our parentcation,” she offers.
My sisters go on vacation to some swanky resort a week before we have to spend time together in this nonsense that’s called The Vacation from Hell.