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I had her.
I didn’t have to chase her anymore, which I liked. I seemed to always have my running shoes on with this woman, but over the next few weeks, I didn’t have to do that with her.
I couldn’t take her out or anything, and between her schedule and mine being tight, that did make a relationship difficult. That’d happen even without the whole keeping us a secret thing, but we made it work. When we could arrange it, she did come over to my place, stay the night. We recommenced our runs after school and work often, so that made getting together easy. Her staying at my place on occasion also made it easier for her to go to work in the morning.
And hell, if I didn’t take full advantage.
I liked waking up to her, kissing her awake until she let me inside her. The best shit was the shower sex. I couldn’t fucking get enough, and it was lucky if either of us made it on time to classes the next day.
We always did, though, and she made sure of that. My responsible ex-history professor. She stayed at my condo a few nights a week, and when she didn’t, we were texting the shit out of each other. I didn’t push for anything more outside of that since I did get to see or hear from her most days.
I was also busy, so pushing for more wasn’t really an option at the present. I was still bound by obligations with school and work, and her life was the same. Our current arrangement made it easy.
But I was still looking at the calendar.
I’d even circled the event on the date: graduation. Like her getting my ass out of the shower for class after morning sex, I planned to hold her to that date. I refused to let us lie to my mother forever.
Me: So, once I’m considered an educated adult by the prestigious standards of Pembroke University (i.e. have graduated), you know I’m going to take you out, right? Treat you?
I damn well planned on showing her off and sent her many text messages just as this. She needed a reminder. We had a deadline and all this secrecy shit would be over eventually.
She texted me back while I waited for a client, a surprise on my roster today. In fact, I’d been a little confused by the name, but more curious than anything. I had a few minutes before it yet, so took full advantage of texting my girlfriend.
My girlfriend.
We didn’t use such words, girlfriend and boyfriend. Not because I didn’t want to use them, of course. I’d shout it from the rafters that I was seeing her.
Brielle Whitman-Quintero proved to be a special case. AKA skittish as fuck. It didn’t take much for her to run. So, no, I didn’t use labels.
Bri: You’re so silly.
Me: Rude and completely disrespectful to your fellow educated adult.
Bri: You haven’t graduated yet.
Me: Burn.
Bri: LOL!
Smirking, I eased my feet off my desk and pulled up my executive chair.
Me: Anyway, you’re avoiding the initial topic of discussion. I’m treating you so I’m going to need to know your favorite places to go. We’ll go anywhere. Any place you want.
I wanted to know these things about her, and though I had learned a lot, I could stand to know more. I knew her favorite color was blue now. Her favorite food was poached eggs. Like the woman could eat eggs for days, but there were so many more things I wanted to know.
Bri: You don’t have to treat me. I can treat myself. Thank you very much.
A typical Brielle answer, and I loved that I knew that. I was getting a lot of information, understanding her. We still had a ways to go, but I felt we were getting somewhere.
Me: Make the list. And if you want, I’ll make one too. You can treat me. Show me off.
I waited for the telltale eye roll emoji or comment about me being arrogant. I was really starting to know this girl.
“Ramses, you have Mr. Johnson here to see you.”
My secretary left after I lifted a hand to her. Time to get back to business.
Me: Gotta go make that money, but I’ll get at you later.
