“I just want to make sure you’re prepared.” Sylvia is perched at the foot of my bed, her red toenails swinging back and forth while she aimlessly picks at her cuticles. I watch her through the reflection in my full-length mirror, her unsolicited inquiry interrupting my once-over. I opted for a dress, spaghetti strap with a sweetheart neckline. And not that it’s any of Sylvia’s business, I’m wearing lace underwear, labeled “cheeky” and “seamless” on the display fixture at the lingerie store. It makes my ass look amazing. Just in case.
“That’s a personal question.”
“Please,” she scoffs, her tone flat and dismissive. “I’ve seen you piss in the bushes at an IHOP parking lot.” After a pregnant pause, she adds, “So where is James taking you?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her with a shrug. “He just said dinner, so I’m wearing…something nice.”
“And like,reallyslutty underwear too, right?” She’s really not letting this go.
“Why are you here?” I ask in lieu of an answer, accusation heavy in my annoyed voice.
“I need to witness firsthand my handiwork. You know, triangulation or whatnot.”
“So, if this goes south, I have you to blame?”
“This isn’t going to go south,” she argues. “Not with those heart-eyes you gave me when you were talking about kissing him.”
The kiss. I still feel it on my lips, like a yellowing bruise. Something settled into my muscles, seeping into my bones with want. The squealy yelps of children cleaved us apart, along with the reminder that a hot make-out session in the sand would lead to chafing. Alotof chafing.
After our kiss, we continued to stroll through the wet sand, our fingers linked together with the day fading away into dusk. His eyes kept roaming over my face as I told him about my life back home, my mom and her husband of almost a year who enjoy antique shopping on weekends and recently built a chicken coop in their backyard. I watched his smile grow softer, less entertained and more absorbed, like he was hanging onto my every word. He told me about his family. All of whom are within a twenty-minute drive from each other. We compared our respective lived experiences. His, a home filled with noise and numerous siblings. Mine, quiet with just myself and my mom, sans chickens.
Against my better judgment, we kept our flirty banter going and extended the “getting to know each other” stage into chapter two. And all the subsequent chapters leading up to tonight. A request for something more formal, more sacramental than a cup of coffee and a walk on a beach like a check mark on a personal ad. I don’t tell Sylvia I got a wax too. Again, against my better judgment. Just in case.
I’m about to tell her there’s nothing to see, even remind her I’m not looking for something serious at the moment, when a knock interrupts us. Sylvia hops to her feet and starts fawningover me, flicking away a few wayward strands of my hair. She’s about to cup the underside of my boobs and give them a supportive lift when I slap her hands away.
“Hey,” I warn.
“Now remember,” she says, ignoring my objection, “just because he’s charming doesn’t mean you have to put out.”
Her change in attitude is giving me whiplash. “I thought that’s what you wanted?” Not that I planned on it, regardless of my bald pussy.
She shakes her head.
“Then what’s with the underwear investigation?”
“Tease,” she emphasizes, baring her teeth. “Doesn’t mean you have to give away the whole farm.”
I shift my focus. She’s right. This is so silly. I shouldn’t get so worked up over a date anyway. It’ll probably amount to nothing, just an excuse to get dolled up and enjoy some dinner company. But then I start to think about wet sand and late afternoon sunsets. And tectonic, life-altering kisses. How I was already planning our future, weekend soccer practice and white picket fences.Thisis why I need to pump the brakes. Leave sex completely off the table. Place it in a cupboard with a stack of canned foods and expired salad dressing, forgotten and unused.
I nod, game face on. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to fucking chill.”
All the flippant remarks that this wasn’t serious turn sour, reminding me of my intent to ward off any future prospects for a relationship. This is just dinner. Dinner with someone I’d really like to sleep with.
Another knock echoes through my apartment, and Sylvia rushes to answer it.
“Well, hello there,friend.” Her voice sounds accusatory, admonishing. Even from my room.
I round the corner blocking my view just as James’s eyes catch mine. Whatever confusion lining his forehead vanishes. And it’s like Sylvia no longer exists.
“Hi,” I call, my greeting floated into the air like a sigh.
“Hi.”
Sylvia steps aside, taking the moment to slip away into my kitchen. I look down at his hand to see a small, dainty bouquet of flowers.
“I will see you two later,” Sylvia announces, hooking her purse over her shoulder. She turns to James with a stern glare. “Treat her like a lady.” She turns to leave before adding over her shoulder, “And make sure to have her home by ten.”
I giggle, and James answers, “Yes, Mom.”
