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I could tell you to sit down and make a list of pros and cons, of risks and rewards, but real life isn’t neat like that. If you follow your dreams, there’s a good chance they won’t work out the way you expect. You might hate the city, you might hate the job, or you might get sick in a year and find that career and location are your lowest priorities. Then again, we all know that marriage isn’t exactly a permanent state anymore. You can dedicate your life to someone and wake up to find that they’re gone six months later.
But if you’re keeping this from him, I’m not sure he’s the love of your life. First of all, you’re not communicating with him. Second, you don’t trust him. What you’re saying is “I’m considering giving up my dream to live where he wants to live, because I know he won’t do the same for me.”
Torn, you have to tell him about your dreams, your job offer and your fears. His reaction might help you make the decision. But there’s a good possibility that this relationship is already on shaky ground, shaky enough that if you stay in it and don’t follow the dreams that are just for you, your love may fade more quickly than you think.
She hit Save, then rolled her shoulders. It was only a first pass. She’d shower and go grocery shopping and then read it again.
Before she closed her laptop, she paged to the top of the document just to be sure she’d erased her self-help mantras. Her editor didn’t need to know that Dear Veronica was a dick-sucking savant. It would make for some awkward meetings.
She managed to get through the next couple of hours. She did a good job of not obsessing over her superhot lover. She showered and took only a moment to look at her naked body and wonder what it looked like to Gabe.
There were other adult things she had to do. She went to the bank, did her grocery shopping, put everything away and then cleaned the kitchen. But after all that, it was only one-thirty and she had to sit on her hands to stop herself from incessantly checking her texts.
She’d thought he might text this morning. She’d been sure he’d text this afternoon. He hadn’t, and Veronica was trying to convince herself that wasn’t a bad sign. After all, as meaningful as last night had been for her, for Gabe it had been just another sexual encounter. It hadn’t been a first for him. He hadn’t waited for years.
She snatched up her phone and checked it. Gabe hadn’t texted.
Veronica felt suddenly disgusted with herself. Why was she waiting for Gabe to text? Didn’t her fingers work just as well as his? He’d said he wanted to see the real her, and the real her wanted to text him.
Thanks for last night, she typed, then hit Send. Alarm immediately flooded her veins. Was she flirting now or being awkward? Was there any difference where she was concerned?
After holding her breath as long as she could, she let it out and tried to breathe normally. When a full minute passed without a response, she groaned in pain. She was definitely being weird. Who sent a thank-you note for an orgasm?
Oh, God. She’d just sent a thank-you note for an orgasm!
She fell slowly forward until her forehead thumped the table. Then she thumped it again. “You are so bad at this,” she muttered. The last thump must have jarred something loose, because her head buzzed.
The second buzz vibrated through her elbow.
She reached for her phone so quickly that it slid away from her and nearly off the edge of the table, but she caught the slippery bastard and flipped it over.
No, thank YOU, it said. The pleasure was all mine.
She grinned so hard she thought her cheeks might cramp. Even though she told herself to wait a moment, she typed back immediately. Not true at all. Finally.
His response was much quicker this time: a smiley face that matched her own ridiculous expression. She wanted to play it coy, but too many things were bubbling up inside her. She couldn’t fight her eagerness. It was too new and too sweet.
She gave in without a struggle. You’re not still planning to keep me waiting, are you?
As if in answer, he didn’t respond immediately this time. She bit her lip and tapped her foot. Then she glared at her phone. “Come on,” she muttered.
It finally buzzed. Oh, I’m definitely going to make you wait.
NO! she wrote back. There’s no need! I’m squirming RIGHT NOW.
It wasn’t a joke. He was teasing her. Flirting with her. She was so damn delighted that she felt like a stupid teenage girl twirling her hair while she talked to her crush. But...with the added tension of knowing exactly what his mouth felt like on her clit. She squeezed her thighs together and laughed at the terrible tension already coiling between her legs.
God, don’t say that, Gabe wrote back. Lunch break over in five minutes. I need to be presentable.
Veronica clapped a hand over her mouth to try to catch her scandalized laugh. She’d gotten letters seeking advice about sexting, and she’d always been a little scornful. It had seemed silly to her. But now she understood the appeal. If Gabe hadn’t been at work, she would have teased him, tempted him, just to feel more of the hot power that pulsed into her blood. He was getting hard for her. She wanted him aching. She wanted him to touch himself and tell her about it. It was intoxicating.
Don’t make me wait, she tried again.
Thursday’s not far away. And you know I never miss a show.
Thursday??? She sent that text and then shook her head. She wanted to see him sooner, but she didn’t want to beg. Then again, when she’d asked nicely on Sunday, he’d come right over. She glared at the smiley face he sent back. It looked so serene. So peaceful.
“Ha,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the phone. She had something to offer now, too. She was a savant. Thursday is a long way off if you’re already hard. Have fun remembering my mouth.
