Page 8 of XOXO

I sighed, getting a little tired of the same conversation starter. I responded with generic things and as I was typing, another message came through.

Slick3000–Damn, baby you are beautiful.

Baby? Why was that an instant ick?

I sent Manchester dude his message, debating if I wanted to respond to Slick3000. I appreciated the compliment, but I was too tired to deal with a man who chose his username Slick3000. Shutting off my phone for the night, I slid into a peaceful sleep until I woke up in the middle of the night from the same dream that had been haunting me since I had run away. Lorenzo finding me and dragging me back to get married.

ManchesterU1996, whose name was Isaac, was kind of cool. After talking about football for thirty minutes, we finally moved on to a better topics like work and different hobbies. He spoke Spanish perfectly—his English accent threw me off, but his Spanish sounded like home in Mexico—it was so sexy, I talked in Spanish and English because it was so cool to hear his different accents. I gave him a glossy version of my life saying I was doing this trip because I needed some me time. His mischievous smile told me he got my innuendo.

After drinks and dinner, where I was pretty sure he drank way too much, he invited me to his loft. We made out as he opened the door, a talent I was impressed with as we didn’t fall and he continued kissing me. He walked me up the stairs, stripping with a hungry look in his eyes.

As soon as I stepped into the loft, he grabbed me, kissing me stupidly. It was a little aggressive, but I enjoyed him taking the lead. I moaned into the kiss while I attempted to undress, his hands exploring my body, grabbing my breasts and then my ass.

“Bloody hell, Vi, your ass is delicious,” he said, his accent making it sound even sexier.

He backed us onto the bed in only our underwear, letting me lie down as he laid next to me, leaning over to kiss me again. His hands roamed my body, teasing me, touching me everywhere except where I wanted him to. I rolled my hip up, hoping he would get the hint and touch me, but he kept missing the mark.

“Touch me,” I pleaded, skimming his chest lightly and then over his cock.

He was half hard, a little disappointing since he was turning me on.

“Hold on, give me a minute,” he rolled away from me, throwing his arm over his face.

I froze, wondering what the hell happened. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I think I need a glass of water.” He got up without looking at me. “You want one too?”

I shook my head. He left the bed quickly as I thought back, wondering if I did something wrong. I adjusted myself on his bed, propping up my boobs, so they looked better, laying in what I thought might be a sexy position. A few minutes turned into ten minutes until I was worried maybe something had happened to him or worse he left his own apartment because of me.

My heart sank as another few minutes passed. I got up off the bed peeking over to see if I could see him, but he was nowhere near. Grabbing my jeans and shirt, I put them on as I went down the stairs.

“Isaac?” I called out, but there was no response.

Rounding the corner, there he was asleep, in a chair by the kitchen that I couldn’t see from above.

“Seriously?” I sighed.

A glass of water was in his lap, held by one hand, and his head slumped forward.

“Isaac,” I called out again.

He didn’t flinch. Fuck, did he die? That would be my luck that he died right before we had sex. I guess it was good he came down here and didn’t die on me. I shivered at the gross and morbid thought.

“Hey, are you ok?” I walked up to the possibly dead man. “Isaac.”

I hesitated before touching his shoulder. He didn’t move, but I think he was still warm.

“Hey,” I said, shoving him more forcefully.

His head swayed from side to side. My stomach dropped when I shook him again and he didn’t wake up.

No, this was not happening to me while I was trying to get laid.

“Fuck,” I said, the panic almost overwhelming.

I put my finger under his nose when he snorted loudly, rolling his head to the side and smacking his lip.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I groaned. “You fell asleep on me?”