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“Uh-huh, and what was your first word?”
He laughed at this. “Are you okay?”
“Just this one and one more,” I said. “I promise.”
“‘Baba,’” he said. “For my bottle.”
“Great, and what were you for Halloween when you were nine years old?”
That caused him to think a bit. “My friends and I went as SpongeBob Characters. I was Patrick.”
I took the last bite of the egg roll and finished off the rice. “Okay,” I said and went to grab my laptop from the living room. The initial plan was to bring it back to the bedroom, but then my shyness got the better of me. Sure, I could have shown him the website and plugged his answers in front of him, but I wanted to see the results for myself before letting him take a look.
“I’ve got to get up early tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What?” he asked.
“Good night!”
My excitement prevented me from seeing how strange I was acting, but I didn’t care. I needed to see the answer. After running back into my apartment and plugging the laptop in, I pulled up the sandbox website and plugged in my answers, along with Leo’s, then pressed the submit button.
After a few seconds of loading, the results popped up:
You and your potential partner have a .5% compatibility rating. There is an extremely low chance of compatibility between the two of you.
My initial thought was that the website must be wrong, but then I reminded myself that I was pitting science against my gut reaction, and that rarely worked out in favor of the latter.
Que sera, sera, I thought as I closed my laptop. Maybe it was the fact that I just ate, or maybe it was pure disappointment, but I suddenly felt very tired. I gave myself my nightly hormone injection and went to bed. My own bed.
As I drifted off to sleep, I reminded myself not to get distracted by men when there was a future baby waiting for my love who would be infinitely more deserving.
CHAPTER12
***LEO***
Anight with Mila was enough to remind me of both what I’d been missing from my relationship with Hannah and why I needed to remain single for as long as possible. On the one hand, the sex was just amazing, next-level stuff. Just thinking of her body up against mine as she made those unbearably sexy sounds was enough to give me an instant hard-on.
At the same time, it was too stressful to try to read her mind and wonder what she was thinking all the time. In this case, she asked a series of bizarre questions, one right after the other, without an explanation before hightailing it out of Kiefer’s apartment without even giving me a proper goodbye.
I’d always thought that the stereotype was that men were the ones that fuck and run, but she seemed to do nothing but run, and with absolutely zero warning. Was this what I was signing up for? Would this just be our relationship forever and ever, amen? We'd hook up, and then she'd vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving me to my thoughts, wondering if I’d done something wrong?
Because, if so, it wasn't worth it.
Okay, that was a lie. For the enthusiasm that she had in bed and the orgasm of a lifetime — it was like getting struck by two lightning bolts at once — I'd be willing to put up with more than my fair share of this kind of shit. I was just hoping that, after leaving one bad relationship, I wouldn't end up in bed with someone else who was just as strange.
That was the thing about abuse. It doesn’t start as abuse. It starts as little oddities that pile up like grains of sand into controlling behavior. Sure, right now, she wasn’t nearly as bad as Hannah was, but we’d only known each other for a few days. And she had a dangerous amount of power over me. With a single phone call, she could ruin my career. Eight years of medical school down the drain, just because I had to have her.
And, of course, that wasn't her fault. I should know better. I should, at 35, have been strong-willed enough to know where to put my dick to keep it out of trouble. Nearly all the women in the world were not my patients and I could fuck them with impunity and no consequences. And, yet, when I was in Mila’s company, I forgot all about them and couldn't help myself. There was something about her that just drove me wild and turned me into an animal with much more lust and desire than control.
Even with my concerns, I managed to get myself to sleep pretty easily. The stress of what was going on in her head couldn’t compete with the sense of calm and pure satisfaction that came from unbelievable sex. It was such a deep sleep that I missed my alarm, and when I awoke I had to scurry to get out of the apartment on time. I was hoping to catch her on the way out and even knocked on her door, but only got a moment's conversation with her.
"Don't worry,” she told me from behind the chain, "I'll be right over to check on Bagel. I'll be fine."
As if that was the only thing on my mind. No, I wanted to talk to her about what had happened and at least get an inkling of what she was thinking so I could be sure that I’d arrive at my office and still have my license to practice medicine. She refused to give me that reassurance and, instead, slammed the door in my face. There wasn’t enough time to try and get an answer out of her, so I just left for work, pulling into the lot only a few minutes in advance of my first appointment of the day.
I was good enough at my job to work through the day and see my patients without being too distracted by thoughts of her, but I still was thinking of her and worrying that I could get a phone call at any minute from the medical board about a patient who had filed a very serious complaint.
The end of the day arrived, and that call never came. And when I went back to the apartment, Bagel greeted me with Mila sitting there, against the wall, on her laptop.
