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This morning I was a man looking to break the routine of having nothing to do. I was lonely, more than lonely.
I was desperate.
Now?
Within a few hours I know I’ve found the one I’ve waited for all along.
Can she see it? Does she feel the same way I do?
I know it’s sudden, but that proves it. Doesn’t it?
I force myself to slow down in my mind, but my body only wants one thing.
Hers.
I can even feel my seed rising up, feeling like it’ll boil over if I don’t claim her and soon.
“Your dare was a little risky,” I growl. Still trying to come to terms with it.
Already cherishing the moment our lips met for the first time.
She reddens, and looking down reminds me that it was her friend Suzanna’s idea. The dare.
“She probably thought it would be hilarious,” she says, making me cock a quizzical brow in reply as she looks up.
“When the dashing, handsome man laughed in my face or told me to beat it,” she adds, completing the picture of the scenario she must’ve had in her mind.
“But I did kiss you, and I will again,” I remind her, another low animalistic growl sounding, for the second time in as many minutes.
Slowly it’s dawning on me that the sound is coming from inside me.
It is me. What she does to me.
“I guess I’m just as surprised as the others,” she murmurs, looking away shyly.
I reach out for her hand, glad when she lets me take it in mine.
“I’ll try to control myself,” I tell her. “But I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”
She flushes so hard I wonder if she’s ill, but her trembling hand and rapid pulse as it thumps against my own tells me she’s just as excited as I am.
Maybe just not sure how to show it.
“You’re not married?” she asks suddenly, looking up again.
I shake my head quickly, frowning. Biting down on the words ‘not yet’ that play automatically in my mind.
It’s way too soon for that, even though I picture her in white every time she says the word marriage or brings it up.
I can feel myself growing hot in the face, but not from shame or embarrassment.
Far from it.
“And you don’t have anyone?” I ask her again. Only because I can’t believe it.
A perfect ten like her walking around in the world. People must be blind.
But it doesn’t matter. I’ve found her.
Mine.
She clicks her tongue and sighs, looking out the window at my question.
Still unconvinced that what I’m telling her is true.
She’s shy, sure. But she’s also cautious. Slightly guarded with strangers when it comes to matters of the heart.
Like she should be.
But I don’t want to be a stranger. I want her to be mine and I hers.
I guess it is kinda crazy to expect anyone to just go along with that within minutes of actually meeting.
“I overheard your mom saying she’s not traveling through to the end of your trip?” I ask, changing the subject for her benefit.
“Yeah, she’s gonna stay with my dad,” she says, awkward suddenly. “…They’re trying to patch things up after a long break,” she adds, twisting her mouth and going quiet.
Then it hits me, and not because of anything she’s just said. It’s just a fact.
I’m forty-three.
Old enough to be her father, and here I am acting like a teenager.
“How old are you?” I ask her. I have to know, otherwise, it’ll only eat away at me.
“I’m thr-” she says, but changes her mind. “I’m twenty-one,” she says softly, almost a mumble. Her expression grows vacant, all the passion and excitement from the kisses seeming to evaporate.
As if me asking her age is the nail in the coffin for everything and anything that might or might not happen between us.
But it’s not.
Far from it.
There’s a lengthy pause until her own curiosity gets to her, I can see it.
“And you?” she asks, trying not to smile suddenly as she clearly has a number in mind.
“Guess,” I tell her, leaning back a little. Finally letting myself relax.
Knowing somehow that she’s not gonna run away again.
If I just take it easy, get to know her. Everything will fall into place like it has so far.
“Mmmm. Thirty-three,” she says, making my brow lift in surprise.
I’m flattered. And I’m almost inclined to accept her guess but I won’t lie to her.
Not now, and not ever. Not about anything.
“Close.” I let her know with a grin.
She looks concerned, as if she might’ve guessed too high a number, so I’m obliged to tell her.
“I’m forty-three.”
Watching as she does the simple math, I’m almost expecting her eyes to move to the door. To figure out an excuse to leave, but her eyes only get a dreamy faraway look.
“Mature,” she murmurs to herself, taking in a breath and humming with satisfaction before she comes back to earth.
