He laughs. “Eager little bunny.”
I press a hand on his torso, and push him down on the mattress. “I want you inside me.”
He reaches for the condom on the bedside table. “Willing, able, and at your service, my lady.”
Just as I’m struggling to get out of my sweats, my phone rings. The familiar ringtone assaults my ears, and makes my whole body tighten.
Ugh…
Nice timing.
“Leave it,” Oscar pleads. I quickly glance at him — he’s still hard, and not impressed. But my phone beckons. Oscar knows I’m the type of person who always picks up. I just don’t like brushing people off. When I call someone, I appreciate it when they answer promptly. I just like to give others the same consideration. I lunge off the bed, and reach for my purse. I quickly fish out my phone.
“Hello,” I say, breathless.
“Why, darling… you sound absolutely winded. What are you up to? Are you in the middle of one of your classes?”
Great. It’s my mother. Florence Wilson has the most impeccable timing. This is the same woman who walked in on my first boyfriend and I, to show me the new pink shoes she’d just bought. Ryan, was just lying there under the sheets, naked and sporting a huge hard-on, and the woman had no clue.
“I was… yes, it’s fine. Just working out.” I’m definitely not telling my mother that I’m actually in the middle of sex. She’d probably ask me to say hi to Oscar. Oscar shoots me a death stare, and his erection wilts right in front of my eyes.
I sigh.
“So darling, I have some wonderful news to share with you,” she says and pauses for effect.
“What?” I ask her, curious. “What is it?” I really don’t know why my mother always insists on playing games — she’s so dramatic.
“Well, you’re probably not going to believe it when I tell you…”
“What?!” I ask again.
“I’m so excited, I can barely breathe,” she goes on.
I press my hand on the microphone. “I want to kill my mother,” I whisper to Oscar.
He smiles. “Again?”
“We’ll need to go shopping,” she says, excited. “We’re going to have to buy a few new dresses.”
“For the love of God, woman,” I scoff. “Tell me.”
“Mark asked me to marry him,” she finally announces. “I said yes!”
My heart skips a beat. I’m shocked. Well, sort of. My mother and Mark have been seeing each other for just about six months. Seems quick. Oscar and I, on the other hand, have been friends-with-benefits for over three years and I have no plans to marry him anytime soon. Or ever. Or marry anyone, for that matter.
“Wow, that’s great,” I say, but the lack of genuine excitement in my voice betrays my words. “I’m a bit surprised.”
“I know we haven’t been together that long,” she says. “But when it’s right, it’s right, you know? Mark is such a wonderful man; handsome, successful, and treats me like a princess. He’s quite the catch.”
“Yes, quite the catch,” I echo. I’ve only met Mark a handful of times, a few of which were very brief. My impression: handsome, yes, well-dressed, yes, successful, obviously. Too polite. Uptight. And slightly controlling. I try not judge people on appearances so I’m determined to give him a chance. Although, my intuition tells me he’s not as great as my mother thinks he is.
Oscar twiddles his thumbs, and eyes me with wide curious eyes — he wants to know what’s going on. “My mom is getting married,” I tell him.
His eyes grow wider.
“And there’s more,” Mom says, her words full of fire. “We’re getting married in Paris!”
“Paris!!” I blurt out. Paris.
