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I didn’t want to leave her, but I didn’t want to do something rash because my dick demanded instant gratification.
“I’ll call you,” I said simply. Complex words weren’t possible.
She nodded, and I smiled at the thought that maybe, for her, words weren’t possible at all.
“Goodnight, Gemma.”
“Goodnight, Leo.”
I’ll see you soon.
I was high as a kite once I stepped inside my apartment.
With the door a silent click behind me, I rested my back against the wall, and the girliest little sigh left my lungs.
Leo kissed me.
He. Kissed. Me.
And, holy leprechauns, it was a “Lucky Charms in kiss form” kind of magically delicious kiss.
That kiss started out with a gentle press of Leo’s lips to mine, but it hadn’t ended there.
No way, Jose. That sucker traveled straight into my chest, down to my belly, and landed in my fucking toes.
I felt like Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts and Reese Witherspoon and Kate Winslet all wrapped up into one real-life, swoony as fuck, this feels like a fucking movie kind of moment.
That kiss made my eyes cross and my foot pop up as if it’d been yanked by a marionette’s string.
I was still dizzy just thinking about it.
What a glorious fucking night.
I sighed into the silence of my apartment, and to my surprise, Abby didn’t pop up from the couch to scare the ever-living crap out of me.
“Abby?” I called out, but even after a few seconds, got nothing in return.
It seemed as though my pseudo-roommate was MIA for the evening.
For the first time in a long time, I was kind of disappointed by that reality.
I needed to gab and recount the night’s events. I needed to tell someone about my drag show singing escapades. I needed to make puppy eyes over the memories of Leo. And I needed to turn into a real-life heart eyes emoji as I told someone, any-fucking-one, about that kiss.
But it seemed the only company I had for the rest of the night was me, myself, and I.
Accepting my silent fate, I pushed myself off the wall and headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed.
Surely, I could fill the duration of my evening with funny pet videos on Instagram before sleep took over.
I did the normal nightly routine—wash my face, brush my teeth, and pee—and by the time I crawled into my bed, my face was clear of makeup, my hair was tossed up into a messy bun, and my coziest pajamas cradled my body.
I had no idea how I would get any sleep with the way my brain was so damn fixated on everything that was Leo, but I was really hoping cute videos of furbabies would be enough to take my mind off of him so sleep would be an option.
Under the covers and well into my fourth video—this one, a sleepy golden retriever puppy dressed in duck pajamas—I couldn’t stop myself from replaying the evening in my head.
The drag show.
Leo’s smile.
Dinner.
Leo’s eyes.
Singing onstage.
Leo’s kiss.
And by the time I’d replayed the whole date a good five or six times in my head, I started to worry that maybe I was jumping the gun a bit. I mean, this wasn’t Joe Schmo working at the deli up the street I was thinking about here.
It was Leo Fucking Landry, a professional football god for the New York Mavericks.
He was insanely handsome, incredibly successful, and no doubt had millions of other girls vying for his attention.
And me? Well, I was a clumsy and quirky girl who had no real career prospects in sight.
I had no degree.
I quit college during my senior year.
And I was currently the girl who packed up his great-aunt’s sex toys.
Did those things equate to a match made in heaven? I wasn’t exactly convinced.
But I refused to be so flipping negative.
Leo said he’d call me. And, well, if he was truly interested, he’d call.
Other than that, it was out of my control.
Just focus on that alpaca with the hat on and stop worrying over it, Gem, I coached myself.
Luckily, it worked.
Another few videos in and after a quick status check on Ariana Grande’s recent Instagram posts, my blinks turned longer and eventually my eyes started to fall closed.
Ah, yes, the glorious angel named sleep. I sure do love when she visits.
I was just on the brink of being lights-out, but my heart damn near jumped out of my throat when my phone started ringing and vibrating in my lap.
My eyes popped open, and I squinted as I tried to look at the far too bright screen.
Incoming Call: Leo.
I blinked three times just to make sure it was really him.
Spoiler alert: It was.
He’d dropped me off at my apartment not even two hours ago, and he was already calling me?
Maybe it’s an accidental butt dial? I thought to myself, just before I answered on the fourth ring.
