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“That was incredibly hot.” Dakota wipes her mouth and climbs on top of me to kiss me softly. “Do you need a minute?” she teases.
“Yes, Yes I do.” I lean into her chest, letting her wrap her arms around me.
As I lay in her arms, breathless, I try not to let my mind wander again. Instead I let myself stay in this moment with her. The one where she fucks me tirelessly and holds me close. As I gain the energy to return the favor and make our last night together count.
Dakota
I am neverone to get weepy in an airport. Maybe because most of the time, I am flying by myself, from one job to another. It is a normal pattern in my life. Check bags in Atlanta, red-eye to Newark, do a six hour swimsuit photoshoot, guzzle a venti iced mocha with three pumps hazelnut, make out with one of the models if I am feeling frisky, crash in a shitty hotel for a night, and then start all over again with another city.
There are times where I don’t even see my apartment for a month.
So this is normal. No big deal.
Right?
Wrong.
This is excruciating uncharted territory. We met days ago. What started as an insignificant hotel mess up leading to only one bed for two strangers is now invading my every thought.
Violet was with Grant, still unsure of her true sexuality. I was fresh out of another string of one-night stands.
Neither of us were looking for a girlfriend.
Neither of us were expecting to leave here, feeling empty, unsure of what was coming. And I can’t. I have to talk to her. I have to see where Violet is with us.
Is there even an us?
Is there even a chance we could be something?
Every kiss we’ve shared sure felt like so much more, but maybe it was the excitement of the city. Maybe it was Violet’s awakening and the power I felt being the one who got her there. It’s easy to get caught up in emotions when they’re as intense and visceral as we’ve been.
I am terrified it is too much all at once. We gave it our all and now we’ll have to go our separate ways.
Or, maybe there is more. By the look in her eyes, I see a chance. Anyone else looking at her wouldn’t see the slight curvature of her lips, the way her eyes slowly open and close, and the gentle lift of her chest with each breath.
But I see all of it.
“Hey, can we talk?” I whisper in her ear, gently gripping her elbow.
“Yeah, I think there’s some empty seats over there?” Violet nods to the terminal next to ours. It has just cleared out, leaving nearly the entire space to us.
I focus on every step I take, hoping my nerves won’t take my feet out from under me. I let Violet pick the seats, next to the window staring onto the tarmac. Planes coming in and leaving as they always do. Employees unloading one plane while another set loads another plane. Reflections in the windows of people passing by, some scurrying to their terminal and others dragging along, obviously wiped of all energy. I hear the music of the clusters of slot machines, echoing when someone hit abig win—more than likely something like forty dollars.
I let myself absorb the sounds around me, trying to ground myself. Trying to figure out how—and what—I want to say to Violet. Trying not to psych myself out of fear she won’t feel the same. That she’ll look at this like a fun little “when in Vegas” adventure.
I build myself just enough of a protective barrier to shield myself in case this doesn’t go how I want it to. I have to protect myself, right?
People always warn others to be careful in Sin City. Be careful not to lose everything at the slots. Not to get lost in the city. But they don’t know Violet. They don’t know what it is to be lost in her. That I was addicted to her the moment I saw her.
So with one final deep breath, I open my mouth and my heart. “I have to ask.”
Violet slowly nods, like she knows where I am going.
“But I’m not sure how to ask. This is new territory for me. This isn’t anything I’m used to. I’m used to just boarding a plane and moving on. But this feels…” I trail off. I am beginning to ramble. I pick at my thumbnail, trying to regroup my thoughts.
I am never the unnerved one.
Violet reaches out, laying her hand on mine to still my fidgeting. “I know.”
