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“So, spill it,” she says as I enter. “Right now. Did you take him home?”
I nod and grin.
“You go, girl!” she whoops and claps her hands and almost knocks over the nail polish bottle she was working with.
“What’s got you so excited?” I ask in my most innocent voice, grinning wider.
“You finally having some fun with a guy again.” She screws the top onto the nail polish bottle, leans back in her chair, pulls her legs up, and gives me her undivided attention. “You did have fun, right?”
I can’t help smiling as memories of last night flood my mind once again. “Oh, yes, I had the best time. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a guy . . . and to be honest, no one’s ever, you know, satisfied me the way Brennon did.” I lost count at seven orgasms last night. I’m sure there were more, but damn, it feels like a dream.
I feel myself blush even harder as I tell her that. I have no secrets from Stacey, and she’s known everything about my life since we were like six years old, so I have nothing to blush about. But still.
“Brennon, huh?” she says. “Who knew?”
She’s known him as long as I have since we were all in the same year back in school, but they were never the kind of friends we were.
“Yeah, if I’d known sooner, I wouldn’t have waited this long,” I say.
“And the best part is, this morning wasn’t awkward at all,” I add. “You know how it is the morning after. You kind of don’t know what to say to the guy?”
She nods.
“Well, there was none of that with Brennon.”
I also told her how he waited for me to wake up before leaving so he could say goodbye in person.
“Wow, he sounds like the real deal,” she says. “So, what’s next?”
“Lunch at two,” I tell her.
She gives me an approving nod. “Sounds very promising.”
Stacey and I have been through thick and thin together over the years, and I know how keenly she feels my pain over being the target of a stalker and not being able to trust guys anymore because of it. She really wants me to have a normal life again. And I know that’s what she sees when I talk about Brennon. Too bad I have to squash her hope.
“He’s going back to LA tonight,” I say. “It sounds like he’s pretty busy down there, so I don’t know when I’ll see him again anytime soon.”
As I predicted, the happiness and excitement drain from her face.
We talk some more about what he does, and I have to be honest with her that he didn’t tell me a whole lot about it. I just know he’s in a biker club and that he has quite an important function in it.
“Mostly, we just reminisced about high school and told each other how great it is that we got to reconnect,” I say. “I must’ve told him that at least five times, and so did he.”
She insisted on washing and styling my hair and doing my makeup and nails too.
“Might as well look your best for your lunch date,” were her words. “Then maybe he won’t have to leave for LA so soon.”
But I was thinking that all that effort might be enough to make him stay one more night, but no more than that. Unfortunately. What a bummer!
* * *
Brennon couldn’t hide the fact that he liked what he saw when he picked me up for our lunch date. With the hair and makeup and the flowing black summer dress that’s tight in all the right places—and loose in the right places too—he couldn’t not. I also put on high—heeled sandals for the first time in ages.
We’ve long since finished our lunch—Caesars salad for me and a pizza for him—and now we’re just sitting here, talking. It’s almost four-thirty. The time just flew by. And we haven’t run out of things to say yet.
“Remember that time Joanie brought all those rabbits to class in a big box?” he says, already chuckling at the rest of the story. “We were like in the fourth grade or something, and she wanted us to adopt some of them.”
“Yeah, I remember. They were white Flemish giants,” I interject.
