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I have a date to crash.
Thirteen
Lee
The Hound House sucks.
Who names a restaurant after a dog? Well, besides Blake Shelton, but I imagine he can get away with it. As I look around the room, I try to imagine what table Eugene—Travis—Whoever sat in with his date. I can’t concentrate on anything but that and it makes me that much angrier at him. I can’t believe he thought he could forbid me to do anything.
Did he hold her hand through dinner? Did they kiss? Did she play footsie with him under the table?
These are the damn questions that are haunting me while my date, on the other side of the table, is talking on and on—clueless to the fact that I’ve mentally checked out of this date.
Instead of being excited about my date—who is a nice-looking guy and I’d normally be attracted to—I’m worrying that Travis is moving out of my place. I don’t honestly want him to. I’ve come to love taking him coffee in the morning and seeing his bedhead, cuddling up and watching movies together on my couch while he picks them apart. Although I’d still like to hear what he says about me catching him in the act with her. I’d over exaggerated a bit with the whole making-out comment, but still, I want him to be just as mad at me going out as I was seeing him with her. I chastise myself for being so petty.
I mentally shake myself and try to keep listening to Ben drone on about his job. While he’s a successful doctor, and that’s a rather neat profession, I’m completely bored out of my mind. I’ve started watching the clock on the back wall, somewhat counting down the time until I can go home.
Will it be empty when I get there?
Ben’s perfect, checking all the boxes of what I thought I wanted in someone. He’s handsome with a perfect smile, well-spoken, and stable. Yet, something is definitely missing. There isn’t even a hint of the tiniest of sparks. Not when he brushed his lips across my cheek when we arrived and not during any of the time that he’s been talking. He’s polite and keeps the conversation going. I try to pretend to be engrossed in his story about a surgery he was in yesterday, but at the same time, I start to go through excuses in my mind, so I can leave early. I know I won’t make it through the whole night. My heart just isn’t in it. Suddenly someone is standing over the table and when I look up, my heart jumps into my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, shocked when I look up into Eugene’s—Travis’s—face. Before he replies, he leans in and kisses me, caging me to the chair with his strong arms. It’s not a short and sweet hello kiss. Not a small, out in public kiss, either.
It’s an entire soul-consuming one that robs me of my breath and my brain. His tongue invades my mouth like a Viking warrior, prodding, plundering, claiming me in ways that make me feel as if my whole body is on fire. His tongue fights a war with mine, demanding not only acceptance, but total and utter surrender. When we pull back from each other breathless, Ben’s eyes are as big as saucers, his mouth agape and I’m mortified. I don’t know what to say. I can’t think. My body is so heated, my breathing ragged and my lips feel as if they’ve been branded. When I tear my gaze from Ben to look up at Travis, I feel a gush of desire painting the inside of my thighs, as he licks his lips as if he can still taste me there.
It’s all I can do to keep from moaning.
“What’s going on here?” Ben asks, holding his hands up. He looks completely uncomfortable, leaning as far from Travis as possible. He’s being a gentleman by not freaking out–while I'm at a loss for words.
Before I can even try to explain, Travis pulls out the seat between us, plopping into it and pulling Ben’s hand into a firm shake. Ben grimaces and I gasp.
“Hey man, nice to meet you. I’m Travis, Lee’s husband. Sorry, I’m a little late; I just got released from jail. That’s a funny story though, we got caught having sex on the city bus.” He pauses and holds his hand up for a high five, but Ben just stares at him. Travis reaches for the bread on the table and starts ripping it up, using Ben’s utensils to get most of the butter on one bite, taking his time chewing it. He holds up a finger telling him to wait a minute like Ben is anxiously waiting to hear more. I feel like I’m stuck at a tennis match, looking between the two as it unfolds.
