I can’t believe I experienced this and waited the better half of a week before indulging myself again. We fit together perfectly.
When the kiss breaks and I back up a step, with people still streaming around us, I watch Karli’s face, her slightly pink-tinged cheeks, the way she smiles. There’s a radiant glow that wasn’t there moments ago.
I did that to her.
“Gotta get going.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder, then start to turn, grinning like the devil as I do it.
Her words hit me right in the back. “Where are you taking me Saturday?”
“Dominic and Mary’s wedding.” I’m already walking away as I say it. “You’ll need a dress.”
I tell myself not to look back. That the moment is perfect as it is right now; leave everything to the imagination for dramatic effect.
But she makes me so weak I can’t help it.
When I’m about fifteen feet away, I sneak a glance back at her.
Her mouth is still open, like she has no idea what just happened. Like she’s processing a million things right now.
Doesn’t matter.
She’s going with me.
Because she’s mine.
5
Karli
What the hell am I doing? This is completely absurd.
Enjoy it! You just took your last final this week and this is a great way to celebrate!
No matter how bad I want that to be the case, I can’t get my brain on board. Everyone I now work with, every person in management, is going to be there. I’m going to just walk in with Matthew? In front of all of them?
Shit, I look ridiculously good in this dress.
I do a little spin in front of the floor-length mirror attached to my closet door. Then, I glance over at my phone.
Fuck me.
You can only hope.
He’s going to be here any minute. I had all week to tell him no, send him an email. I even wrote the whole thing out and it’s been sitting in my draft folder, waiting for me to have the courage to send it. I never did. My finger hovered over the key relentlessly, but I never pushed it.
So, why didn’t I?
Because you like him, a lot.
He eats up so much of my valuable brain space. I’m here to work, further my career, not daydream about Matthew all the time. I reach up to touch my hair then stop myself, because I spent two hundred bucks I didn’t have earlier getting it done.
Another glance at my phone tells me I have about five minutes before he gets here. I pick up my phone and swipe the screen, then go straight to the text earlier.
It didn’t ask if I was going to go, or if I was having second thoughts, or anything like that.
All it said was, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”
That’s it. The second it came through, this shudder crept up my spine. Not a bad shudder. Oh no, a delicious one that made me feel more alive than I’ve ever really felt. Why? It makes no sense.
I’ve never had a thing for jerks or pushy guys. I despise assholes.
Sure seems like it.
I wish I could shut my brain off for just ten seconds sometimes. Even if it’s trying to smack me in the face with the truth.
Is Matthew an asshole, though?
He comes off as one, sure. But that night in the bar, our first date… He gave me glimpses of the real him. Sometimes, it feels like this thing is just an act, just to push my buttons, and he walks it like a tightrope. Or maybe it’s just for his professional life. I’ve noticed you do have to be pushy and assert yourself. Nice people get run over in this world.
There’s something so hot about him being so demanding too. It makes me want to punch him in the face and wrap my legs around him at the same time. I walk over and sit down on my bed and let out a long, frustrated sigh. Butterflies swarm my stomach. None of this is how I saw this internship going.
Right when my mind starts to analyze every single thing I’m doing wrong tonight, what I’ve been doing wrong for nearly two weeks, the doorbell rings.
I jolt and fumble my phone around in my hands before I catch it.
What the hell? It’s only six fifty-seven!
Doesn’t he know that I needed that final three minutes to myself? Is it even him? Or someone else? Maybe they have the wrong apartment. Maybe it’s a friend dropping by unexpectedly.
It’s him, you idiot. He’s just trying to be punctual.
No excuse.
I stand up and walk slowly down the hallway, each step a monumental effort. I can’t even describe the intense feelings swirling through my body as I get closer. It’s a potent cocktail of fear, excitement, and let’s be honest, pure horniness. Is horniness a word? It should be, because damn, I really do need to get laid.
Something tells me sex with Matthew will be phenomenal, and I’m quickly reminded I would already know if it weren’t for his stupid phone cock blocking me after the bar. I also take notice that I didn’t think to myself sex “would be phenomenal” as if it’s some far-off possibility. No, I thought sex “will be phenomenal” as though it’s guaranteed to happen. Truth be told, I breathed a sigh of relief when they reassigned me to Blake. Thought I dodged a bullet. Now, it only seems to have made things worse, or more intense, like it’s okay since he’s not officially my boss.
By the time I get to the door, it feels like I’m outside of my body, viewing the scene from the corner of the room. I watch my hand moving to turn the doorknob, and it’s like I’m not even controlling it, like I have zero autonomy.
The second I open the door, though, my consciousness slams back into my body, Doctor Strange-style, and I’m thrust in front of the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.
Holy. Shit.
He’s in a tux and it looks tailored to perfection. All black, classic, like something James Bond would wear. When my eyes roam up to his face, he’s smiling, and his hair is perfectly slicked back. My pulse speeds up, until I can feel it pounding in my ears.
To be fair, it looks like he’s feeling the exact same thing. His face may even be a slightly paler shade than usual. This tiny exhale, barely audible, comes from his throat, like the air just sucked out of his lungs.
Then, for the first time since I met him, Matthew appears speechless. His lips start to move multiple times, but then they stop. I’ve never seen him look like this.
It feels like it lasts for an hour, but it can’t be more than a second. That’s how it is with us—time just slows down when we’re together, like we form a singularity that can’t be described mathematically.
Eventually, he blinks once and says, “You look—just, wow. You’re beautiful.”
I know this is the reaction in my brain to everything about this man, but…
Shit!
Shit! Shit! Shit!
It’s not even the words he says, it’s how he says them. I want to melt.
“You look great too.” Holy fuck, Karli. Way to reciprocate. I get I shouldn’t tell him I want to drag him to my room, rip that tux off him, and ride his dick so hard I can’t walk the next day, but, “You look great too,” is a wonderful substitute.
That sly smirk forms on his face again, the one that says he’s about to fuck with me. “Thanks, that’s what I was going for.”
Immediately, it’s like I return to my normal self, and I’m pretty sure it’s the entire reason he just said what he did. “You just can’t help it, can you?”