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Her smile widens. “I was hoping I’d see you here.”
“I could say the same,” I say, shocked by how rough my voice sounds. Did she come here just to find me? I can barely focus on my own question. Already my body’s growing hot and tense, as if getting ready to pounce on this little woman. All she has to do is say the word.
I watch as her smile falls. She pushes a strand of her hair behind her ear as she says, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I should have asked for your number, but I figured I’d see you again during my next shift. But … well …”
“You haven’t been scheduled, have you?” That dark thing that lurks in my mind, the predatory animal desperate to claim Kat, growls. Why aren’t they giving her shifts? What happens if she can’t pay her bills? Are they punishing her for something that isn’t her fault?
“No,” she sighs. “I’m not sure why. I texted my boss a few days ago saying that I’m ready to work again, but maybe there’s no room on the current schedule.”
“Maybe … Are you low on cash? Do you need help?”
Kat’s eyes are the size of dinner plates as she gives me a long, lingering look. She shakes her head to herself before she gives me an answer.
“No. I’m okay. The pay just goes into my savings.”
I nod as I take a sip of my coffee. The scalding liquid on my tongue is nothing compared to the memory of how hot her flesh was against my lips. God, seeing her again is just making the want I’ve felt all week soar to new heights.
For a moment, we stand there in the parking lot of the gas station, looking at each other. The road noise and urban sound fades away, and it’s just us. She looks so small, so delicate, and yet she stands tall and proud as she meets my eyes. I might be big, bigger than most, a bit scary looking, but it’s like she wants to show me that she’s not afraid.
My mother’s words from earlier come back to me. It’s okay to let yourself love someone.
This woman has changed my life, and she doesn’t even know it. I thought maybe it wasn’t meant to be, that we wouldn’t ever end up seeing each other again, and yet, she’s here. Maybe it’s okay if I let myself believe I might have a chance at something with her. That searing moment in the back of her car isn’t enough for me. I want her. I want all of her. I want to show her what it’s like to be mine.
“Hey,” I finally ask, breaking the companionable silence between us. “Are you free to grab coffee sometime?”
Kat’s eyes light up, and my heart soars. “I’d love that.”
***
Exchanging information is easy, as is finding the time to do something together. I’ve never been more thankful for the day off. She knows a good coffee shop close to her apartment, so I’ll stop by her place to pick her up after she gets home from her last class of the day.
She sends me a good night text as I’m getting ready for bed. I’m so shocked at the notification I just stare at my phone with my toothbrush in my mouth, dripping toothpaste on my shirt. I don’t even remember getting to bed—the rest of the night is a blur. I blink, and suddenly, I’m standing outside her apartment the next day, trying to convince myself to knock on the door.
All the confidence I felt last night is gone. I spent the night wondering how the hell a woman like Kat found her way to me. I have to stop asking myself the damn question but fuck, it just doesn’t feel real.
Just as I raise my hand to rap my knuckles on the wood, the door swings open to reveal Kat. She has her phone pressed to her ear, but her smile is warm and welcoming as she beckons me into her apartment.
She holds a hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “I’m so sorry,” she says, looking up at me through her dark lashes. “My parents literally just called me. As soon as I’m done, we’ll go. You okay with waiting?”
“Of course,” I tell her softly. “Take your time, sweetheart.”
The pet name slips out before I can stop it, but when I see her cheeks flush that mouthwatering shade of pink, I can’t find it in me to regret it one bit. She shyly nods before leading me into her living room and telling me to make myself comfortable.
Her apartment is small, maybe a little spare, but it’s comfortable. I know she lives alone, but I still think it’s surprising. She’s a college student and she works at a convenience store, so I don’t think she’s rolling in money. Most students can’t afford a place of their own. Maybe she’s got a scholarship to help pay for everything.
There are piles of textbooks and papers on the coffee table. I start to look over them as I wait for Kat to finish her phone call. Immediately, a thick stack of printer paper bound together with a binder clip catches my attention.
I’ve never seen so much red scribbled on a manuscript like this. When I was in college, I was ruthless with editing my papers, but this is intense. But when I pick it up and start to page through it, I realize it’s not an academic paper. It’s a story. A long one, too—the last page is number 135, but it doesn’t look like it’s complete. In the blank space on the last page, there are bullet points listed in a neat scrawl using the same red ink found on every single other page.
FMC picks fight with MMC. MMC asks her what she wants. FMC says “you” and MMC orders her to bend over.
Alright. I knew it was a story of some kind, just because of the formatting and the lack of footnotes, but what kind of story is this little girl of mine writing? I keep reading her notes.
MMC pushes her skirt up to find her hot and wanting. He buries his face in her pussy and starts to eat her out. He makes her come twice before she pulls him down to the bed. They fuck. Still need positions and dialogue. Research losing virginity. Research period appropriate clothing for men. What does underwear look like for him? Did they even wear underwear then??
Oh. That kind of book.
While I’m impressed by her notes—making lists like this tells me she’s detail oriented and dedicated to making this story work—some of them confuse me. Why would she need to research losing virginity? That seems like it’d be self-explanatory, doesn’t it?
