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19 - Jessica
Isat nicely with Gregthrough the first half of our “date” for the sake of appearances. But with dinner finished, and an Uber on the way, I absolutely relished giving him a piece of my mind. He’d been laughably unpleasant, but I’d expected nothing less. Mom had always loved pairing me up with assholes.
“And another thing! The next time you go on a date, ask the woman yourself instead of assuming her mother gets to set up dates for her! I’m not a prized cow for her to parade around!” I yelled, right as I got into the backseat of my ride. Greg looked thoroughly pissed off, and I grinned in satisfaction. He’d spent the entire evening contradicting everything I said and only talking about himself, yet he thought I’d be a good polite girl and take it?
Hell. No.
I was a good girl for averyselect group of men, and he was not among them.
As the Uber pulled out of the parking lot, I spotted Manson’s purple Mustang pull out behind us. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me all night. And the things he’d done to me — God, they made me squirm in my seat. My body was still warm and sated, but I was on pins and needles waiting to get home. He’d promised I’d have him tonight, and after that whirlwind of pleasure at the restaurant, I wanted nothing more than to curl into bed, wrapped in his arms.
I kept a lookout for his car as we drove up to the house, but I didn’t spot it. Although I wasn’t certain what his plan was, I sent him a text as the Uber dropped me off.
His response came through as I reached the front porch.Go inside. I’ll see you soon.
Mom noticed the moment I walked in the door, of course. “Well?” she called, before the door had even closed behind me. “Isn’t he a dream?”
“More like a nightmare,” I muttered, taking off my shoes. Then, more loudly, I said, “He was a jerk the entire night, Mom, and I told him as much.” She was quickly rattling off some excuse for him as I walked into the living room, where she was watching a movie with my sister. “No more dates. No more setting me up, no more playing matchmaker. None of it.”
Turning on my heel, I went straight upstairs without giving her even a moment to start another argument. My feet were aching from the heels I’d been wearing, and I was eager to take off this tight dress and get into something more comfortable.
The moment I stepped into my room, I gasped and hurriedly shut the door behind me, mouth agape at the sight in front of me.
There was a bouquet of flowers on my bed; pale pink roses the same color as my dress. Beside it was a bottle of wine — the same white wine I’d wanted to order at the restaurant. My closet was open, and I locked my bedroom door before walking to the end of my bed.
Manson was sitting cross-legged on the floor, illuminated only by the subtle light of my desk lamp. He’d cleared a space in my closet for us to sit, using an old chess board as a makeshift table. Two wine glasses sat on top of it, beside a to-go box from the restaurant.
“How did you get in here?” I whispered. He got to his feet, the smirk on his face setting loose a swarm of butterflies in my stomach.
He held up a little blue plastic circle attached to his keyring, and said, “Jason made an extra security fob for your house. But I came in the window so your family wouldn’t see me.”
Shaking my head at the audacity, I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him.
“You remembered the wine,” I said as he picked up the bottle and produced a corkscrew from his pocket. “I can’t believe you could hear me from the bar.”
“I have pretty sharp hearing,” he said. “Especially when I’m focused.” He pulled the cork with a satisfying pop and poured generously for both of us.
We sat on opposite sides of our makeshift table in the closet. I turned on the twinkle lights that hung around the doorframe, giving us more light. It felt like our own little fort, a fantastical place hidden away where we could be alone. We clinked our glasses together, and as I took a sip, I found it to be just as delicious as I’d hoped.
