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“I know,” I reply. “But you guys have fun.”
“Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be there.” She gets up and winks at me, then walks out.
I rub the back of my neck. She’s a pretty girl—blonde, big tits, nice ass—but way too forward. Someone should tell her she doesn’t have to try so hard. I have no doubt she gets hit on often, probably trying to land herself a doctor. And I bet she will. Maybe I’ll subtly remind her next time that I’m not one.
After my notes are all imputed into my electronic tablet, I submit the reports and grab my jacket, heading for the door.
As I drive home, the temptation to join my coworkers at the bar looms, because I feel like all I do is work, go to the gym, and hang out at home alone. But I don’t want the enticement to drink, nor do I think Mariana was being very truthful about a group of them going out. She probably wanted to pretend there was to get me alone.
Once home, I change into my workout clothes, mix up a pre-workout drink, and sip on that on the way to the gym. Once there, I frown at how crowded it is. I usually like going later at night, but it’s Friday and it’ll be crowded then too, I’m sure of it.
I have to wait for a few machines, but I eventually do my weight routine, and then luck out when a treadmill opens right when I’m done.
As I work out, I again get inside my head, since I can’t seem to stay out of it. There’s a lot going on and I feel like I have to concentrate on one thing at a time. Right now, the new job takes priority, followed by my physical well-being. My bulk is starting to return and I’m happy about that. My sister and Carter are having a baby and I’m really glad for them. I can’t wait to be an uncle, but that’s one thing that has to take a backseat in my mind.
It sucks that I can’t put Christa on the back burner as well, but I absolutely cannot. She consumes my thoughts. The memory of our tryst in the Mile High Rooms drifts into my mind as I pound the treadmill, but the memories of us before I left—before we broke up—are the strongest, seared into my brain and stamped onto my heart like a tattoo that will never go away.
Because Christa will always have my heart, and that’s not going to change.
I hope tomorrow night, if she’s there, that I’ll have the balls to tell her I see her and that she’s coming home with me.
Twenty-Four
Christa
I’ve never been sotorn in my life. I sit here, all dressed up and ready to go, but I don’t know if I can.
Will Eric be there, ready to screw another stranger—or stranger-me? Or will I go there with the sole purpose of seeking him out, just to find him fucking someone else? My heart couldn’t take that.
Had he done it before? Not before me—I don’t care about that—but since he got back from Africa. There’s only been two monthly events since he got back, the latest one was with me. But before that?
I don’t know, and I can’t sit and dwell on it. If he has, then what’s done is done. He’s a guy, they don’t get emotionally attached during sex like we do—well, not usually, anyway. And random hookups are simply that. They’re what the Mile High Rooms are made for. It’s not a place to meet and fall in love. To search for a future spouse. It’s just sex and a place to work out your kinks.
As I think back to last Saturday night, my finger finds my lips, remembering how he touched me. It wasn’t overly personal, but I have plenty of memories from before of how we came together so intimately. How much I felt his love and affection behind closed doors. The sweet things he’d say to me. How protective he was of me.
Even if I only get him for a few minutes, I need it. I need to feel him touching me, even if he thinks I’m some stranger in the dark. I stand and slide on the lacy long-sleeved coverup that hugs the curves of my black sparkly dress. I’m going to find him, and if he’s alone, then I’ll get to have him all to myself. If he’s not, I have my answer.
