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Standing in front of the display at the convenience store, all I could do was stare, my vision blurring as I took in the sizes and brands. Something felt off that night. Now I know why.
He ran out of condoms because he was screwing someone else on the side.
I never made it to his place that night. Instead, I went back to the house and sat on the edge of my bed, trying to figure out why I couldn’t make the purchase.
It took me almost a week to try again, wanting to make sure we had one, but I didn’t want to buy them. Instead, I went to Mya’s room and was caught red-handed attempting to steal one from her.
Mya’s right. I need to find someone who cares about me. Someone who revs my engine the same way Brady’s does hers.
There’s only one man who’s ever made me feel anything even remotely close to what she described.
The only problem is, aside from kissing me anytime the mood strikes him, we don’t really know each other. The chemistry’s there, which is more than I can say for Timmy. The attraction is palpable.
But I don’t know what he wants out of life.
What he enjoys doing in his downtime.
Or if he’s just an impulsive man who goes around kissing any girl who will let him.
It’s not like there’s a shortage of women falling at his feet. I’ve been to plenty of his concerts. There’s always a crowd center stage, vying for his attention. Scantily dressed.
Those same women wait for the band after their set. Cling to his arm. Openly flirt with him, some going as far as propositioning him.
I’ve tried to look away, but I can’t seem to help myself. Whenever he’s in the room, my eyes are drawn to him. He’s all I can think about. I’m consumed with memories of that night.
As much as I wish it meant nothing, I felt something. And I’ve held onto that feeling all these years. Probably because I’ve never felt that way since.
Kissing Timmy was nice.
Kissing Colt is an all-consuming experience.
I never got over the first time he kissed me. Now that it’s happened again, I have a feeling I may never move on. Not that I want to. Kissing Colt is something I’d love to do all day, every day.
“Someone’s thinking really hard about something.” When I look up, Cleo’s leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest. “How did the meeting with Max go?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be back home already? Isn’t that part of why you couldn’t go yourself?”
Not that I bought that excuse. When it comes to Max, Cleo will do anything to a) avoid him or b) destroy him. She can’t do both at the same time, so she tricks the rest of us into helping her with one or the other.
“I’m letting my car warm up, and then I’m hitting the road. I wanted to check in with you before I left, though. I thought you were out with Timmy.”
“It went fine, and I was.”
“You don’t look fine,” she counters, pushing upright and taking a step inside my room.
Cleo’s a neat freak. Everything has its place. She demands that the rest of us keep our rooms tidy. Normally, that’s not a problem for me, but I started to pack my bags before Timmy picked me up and left things scattered. She’s currently judging the mess, her eyes scanning the contents of my open suitcase, the pile of dirty clothes lying next to it, and finally landing on the stack of presents I still need to wrap. One of which is for her, but she doesn’t know it.
“Just a long day.”
“Want to talk about it before I leave?”
“Not really. I think I’ve done enough talking for one day.”
“I have a three-hour drive home if you change your mind. You can always call me.”
Yes, I could. I could also grab a pint of ice cream from the freezer and binge eat while I finish packing. I’m hitting the road first thing in the morning. There’s no use leaving tonight considering my parents won’t be home when I get there. They flew to the Bahamas for a last-minute getaway and won’t return until tomorrow afternoon.
“I appreciate it. You better get on the road. I heard we’re getting snow tonight.”
