I used to devour Sweet Valley High books, borrowing them from the library. But every time that my dad saw the covers, he just made fun of me, saying that they were stupid, pointless, girly trash.
After that, I would hide them in my backpack. I would always hide them under more important books that were supposedly a better representation of me as a person. But the truth is that he was the one who was an asshole.
There are no right or wrong books; they’re just right or wrong novels for you. There are no such things as guilty pleasures; there are just pleasures. It’s okay to like anything you like and no one should tell you otherwise.
The truth is that people who make fun of popular books and the writers who write them are the ones who've never written a book themselves and don’t know how hard it is to write one.
I wait for Dante, the serious corporate Master of the Universe type, to tell me that romance novels are stupid. But he surprises me.
“I’ve read these two and I think you’ll like them. They’re really good. As far as this one goes, let me know how it is. It seems really hot.”
He smiles at the corner of his lips, holding the romance.
"You know, you're full of surprises," I say to him after a long pause.
"I am?" he asks.
"Yeah. I mean, if I hadn't called some other guy back a million times, I don't think he'd be sitting here talking to me about books."
"I can leave," Dante says, pointing to the door. "I mean, you pretty much told me to fuck off in not so many words, and maybe I should have listened.”
"No, I'd like you to stay. I got some Denny’s,” I say after thinking about it for a moment.
"I don't want to eat your dinner."
"I got two orders," I say, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the hook near the front door.
"You did?" he asks.
I nod. "I didn't want to order more in a few hours or in the morning when I got hungry, so I figured I'd just get another order and warm it up."
"Well, if you don't mind, I'd love to join you."
Dante takes off his jacket, hanging it next to mine. He slips out of his dress shoes and places them neatly next to my boots.
"Thank you for coming," I say and start to unpack the food.
34
Jacqueline
Dante and I have a pleasant dinner over eggs, hash browns, and pancakes. The food got cold so I warmed it up in the microwave. It shouldn’t taste great, but eating it here with him makes it the most delicious thing in the world.
We talk about nothing and everything. I tell him about Dartmouth and Allison, wanting to be a journalist, and my current status of unemployment and lack of prospects.
He tells me about his overbearing mother and University of Maine, and how much of a disappointment it was that he didn't go to Yale like his brother.
"So did you not think that you were going to get in?" I ask, trying to be as tactful as possible.
"No, I was certain I would."
"Oh, well, isn't that cocky of you.” I smile.
He tosses his hair from one side to another.
"No, I'm certain I would get in because my grandfather bought them a building and wrote it into the agreement that the trust would pay for the upkeep in perpetuity as long as all of his descendants get to go there."
"Oh, wow.” I raise an eyebrow.
”Yeah, so I didn't even apply."
“Why did you choose Maine?"
"I love it there. It's beautiful, wild. People are not so pretentious."
"I can't imagine that your mom was very pleased with that decision,” I say, slathering my pancake in a generous amount of maple syrup.
"No, she wasn't, but we go through these hot and cold periods where we talk, don't talk. She's not the easiest person to have a relationship with."
When I find out that Dante got sent to boarding school at age seven, my heart goes out to him. He doesn't shy away from telling me how much he was hurt and how scared he was, and I immediately realize that he's a lot different from any other man than I have ever met.
We talk late into the night and we laugh. We talk about our favorite movies and books and shows, and we fall asleep a few times on top of the sheets.
The second time I doze off, I rouse a few minutes later and I see Dante deep asleep. His face is relaxed, eyes closed, body limp, and I watch him sleep for a little bit and wonder why he's suddenly in my life.
I've put up so many guardrails and so many obstacles, and now I wonder if maybe I did that just so that I could find him. His starched white shirt is now hopelessly wrinkled, and he lies on his side, propping his head up with his elbow, using it like a pillow.
My mouth feels parched, so I sit up on my side of the bed. I pour myself a glass of water very quietly from the tap, not wanting to make much noise.
Instead of being exhausted, I am energized. I pick up a book, the first one on top, the dark romantic suspense set in a house in the woods. I begin to read. Two chapters in, and I'm pretty certain I won't be able to sleep, but then the next thing I know is that I open my eyes and it's morning. The shades are still drawn, but a little bit of bright sunshine is peeking in from underneath.
Dante's sitting at the table in the corner, typing quietly into his laptop, the blue screen illuminating his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" he asks.
I shake my head no. The book lies open flat with the spine bent next to me.
"Saw that you made quite a dent into that one. What do you think?"
"It was so scary at first. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to get through it," I say, stretching my arms as I sit up in bed.
"Thanks for letting me stay over.” He smiles.
"Sure.” I nod.
I look at the time. In another hour, I can go see my mom.
"Last night was really nice," I say, walking over to him.
He grabs my hand and pulls me closer for a kiss, but I push him away. "No, I can't."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I misread things," he says.
I laugh. "No, I'm just ... I haven't brushed my teeth yet."
He smiles, grabs my hand, and presses his lips to mine. I don't want to open my mouth, but my body seems to take over.
His hand snakes its way underneath my T-shirt, and my nipples immediately get hard to the touch.
Suddenly, my desperate need for a shower doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
Dante kisses me harder and harder. His hands pull me closer to him. He tugs on my hair just slightly.
My whole body explodes in anticipation.
I'm dressed in a ratty T-shirt and a loose pair of pajama bottoms that somehow fall off of me with one quick tug.
He grabs my butt cheeks, squeezing tightly. I reach for his crumpled shirt and I struggle with the buttons, running my fingers up and down his hard stomach. I feel each one of the muscles flex, his tan olive skin in stark contrast to my own.
He lowers me onto the bed and pulls down my panties, tossing them onto the floor. He makes his way up my inner thighs, and I open my legs for him, arch my back, and close my eyes.
He rubs me a little, kissing just around my thighs and my belly button, but not quite going all the way. When I've had enough of the teasing, I reach down and grab onto his large cock, rubbing it hard in my hands.