AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’ve heard great things about the pizza place we passed on the way out of Burlington.”
We hopped back in the truck, and a few minutes later we reached a cozy pizza parlor with cushioned chairs and dim lights. We ordered at the counter, and the smell of the cheese made my mouth water.
“I’m surprised you can eat,” she said as we took our seats. “Not too nauseous from last night?”
“Are you still on that?” I rolled my eyes and bit in. “I only had a few drinks.”
“So nothing that happened was out of character for you?” She regarded me keenly.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” A drop of tomato sauce popped on my tongue. “Anyway, this date ended up being productive for you.”
“Very,” she said quietly. “I never thought I’d own my own kitchen chairs.”
“Really?” I remembered what she’d told me about her childhood.Oops.That was probably insensitive. “I mean, I can’t see myself owning them either. It’s such an adult thing, you know? I’ll get my own place eventually, though. I’m not sure when, but I’ll do it. I can’t live at home forever. The cheap rent is nice, but I feel like a little kid. Besides, it’d be nice to have more space to myself. But even if I had my own place, I can’t quite imagine having to furnish it. It’s like, do I go modern or vintage? What color would I paint the walls? There’d be so many decisions—it’s almost like deciding what kind of person I want to be, and it all has to happen all at once.”
“Chelsea, it’s okay.” She lifted a hand to stop me from babbling. “I’m not a fragile object. Saying ‘really’ was fine.”
“Okay. Sorry.” From the look on her face, I was pretty sure apologizing was just as bad. “I’ve never known anyone who grew up in foster care.”
“I can tell.” She laughed. “It’s normal for me, though. My friends did, too. Your lifestyle is what’s foreign to me. I can’t imagine having two parents at home that loved me.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky. Usually.” I knew she was going to ask why, so I gazed down as I finished my second slice. “It’s not a big deal, compared to your life. My parents can just be a little uptight. They tend to shame me for some aspects of my behavior.”
“I thought you were done with men.”
Damn, she was perceptive. “That’s kind of why. My parents will be up in my business, judging me, and my friends do, too. But the main thing is that, with or without them, it all just leads to me getting hurt.”
I was opening up too much—I could tell by the way she looked at me. This was a date, not a therapy session.
I slugged back my Coke. “Anyway.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She wasn’t going to let me change the subject quite yet. “I can see all of that’s been hurting you. Try not to worry about what other people think. In the end, all that matters is you.”
I forced a smile. “Thanks.” That was all well and good, but I was still permanently single. I needed a boyfriend—better yet, a husband. And here I was on a date with a girl. “We should go.”
I tried not to dwell on all of my failures. I was here, trying something new with someone I was unbelievably attracted to. Wasn’t that what mattered?
We made small talk as we drove back to her place. The opening-up part of the evening was over, and we restrained ourselves to chatting about the weather and some local sports teams.
When we got to her place, she hesitated before getting out. I knew a kiss was coming—this would be our third time kissing. And I also knew that I couldn’t go in because of her friends.
She leaned in, taking the initiative for the first time. When her lips met mine, it was warm and slow and soft. There was no urgency, like there had been last night—no conflict. I could imagine myself doing this over and over again, and I shelved that thought for the moment, not ready to think about what it implied.
My tongue glided against the seam of her lips, and after a moment, she let me in. Our mouths opened to each other, and the heat inside my body rose higher. I held onto her, soaking in her warmth and her spicy Tara scent. How could kissing anybody possibly feel this good?
She pulled away. “You little vixen, you were trying to turn that into a make-out.”
“Maybe.” I really hadn’t—I’d just been doing what felt right.
She glanced toward the house, then back to me. “I should go.”
“Not yet.”
I kissed her again, drawing her in, going straight to the part where we loved each other’s tongues. I couldn’t stand to let her go. We’d been on a date now—we’d done this right. Part of me knew my hormones were getting the better of me—but then, this was only supposed to be sex!
“Come to my place,” I breathed. “I’ll sneak you in.”
Even if I’d never snuck anyone in before, I’d find a way to make it work. For her, right then, I would’ve done anything.
