Evie
evie
S wipe.
Swipe.
Swipe.
“He’s decent looking,” I mumble, shoving the last of my Snickers bar in my mouth. Tilting the phone toward Bagel, I ask, “What do you think?”
Bagel makes a low-pitched whine, slash woof, and shakes his head, sending his floppy ears flying through the air as they slap against his head.
“Well, they can’t all be Eric, okay?” I hit like on the photo and exit out of the SparksFly app.
“Besides, it’s just sex. That’s all I want. No feelings. No strings. I just need to get laid.”
Guilt creeps in as my phone pings, alerting me that the guy whose photo I just liked matched with me.
Things have been a little awkward with Eric after our night of sexting. He was supposed to have returned to Chicago by now, but got held up in New York for longer than he anticipated.
If anything, it just solidifies that his work is his first priority, as it should be, honestly. But at this point, he’s told me he’s coming back three times before turning around and saying he has to stay.
It’s like Steven all over again.
Still, I feel bad. But if I’m being honest with myself, what I need right now is a distraction. I need to be touched and filled with no emotions involved.
And Eric is making me feel a whole lot of those lately.
The man is a bonafide golden retriever. Although, he also has the mouth and mind of a Doberman when he wants to exhibit a deeper, darker side that I feel he doesn’t show others much.
I want him.
But he wants a family, and all I have to offer is myself.
My phone pings again, and Bagel lets out a low growl, jumping off the couch and grabbing a toy that he shakes back and forth before plopping down at my feet to gnaw on his squeaky shark.
“Geeze, buddy. Tell me how you really feel.” I open the dating app on my phone to see that the guy who just matched with me has sent me a message.
Message Received
SUBJECT: DINNER?
HI, THERE .
FIRST OFF, I’D JUST LIKE TO SAY YOU'RE GORGEOUS. ACCORDING TO YOUR PROFILE, WE’RE LOOKING FOR THE EXACT SAME THING. SO WHAT DO YOU SAY?
DINNER TONIGHT?
I PROMISE I’M NOT A SERIAL KILLER.
LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.
-NATE
“See? This is exactly what I need.”
And you need to make things clear with Eric.
I sigh. The sexting, no matter how good it was, has to be a one-time thing. I have to raise my walls. Have to tell Eric that we’d be better off as friends.
I can’t give him what he needs, and he… Well… I’m not sure he can give me what I need, either. Because I won’t be the clueless partner who sits at home while her significant other is traveling without her and–
Stop it, . Eric wouldn’t do something like that.
“Yeah, I thought that about Steven, too,” I say out loud.
I’ve been doing that a lot lately, talking to myself.
I’m starting to lose it.
Quickly, I send Nate a reply.
SUBJECT: DINNER?
LET ME KNOW WHEN AND WHERE.
AND ALSO, I PROMISE I’M NOT A SERIAL KILLER, EITHER.
-EVI E
Bagel pauses in the destruction of his toy to look up at me, his big brown eyes filled with judgment.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s a mental thing, okay? Be glad you don’t have to worry about these types of things, sir.”
All I get in return is another grumbled woof, followed by a symphony of squeaks.
So, what are you up to tonight?
The message comes through just as I’m finishing up my makeup. I nearly smear my lip gloss across my face when I see Eric’s name pop up, as though he knows exactly what I’m up to, and he wants to remind me of his presence.
Hi there, remember me? The guy who made you come so hard you saw stars just by texting you?
I grab an old-school strawberry candy from the little dish on the coffee table, unwrapping it and tossing it in my mouth so I don’t chew on my newly manicured thumbnail.
Should I tell him I’m going on a date?
Should I just rip the Band-Aid off now and say this isn’t going to work?
Ever since that night, Eric has been all sweet sayings and proper gentlemanly topics of discussion. It’s like the sexting didn’t happen at all. Like he has a cinnamon-sweet Jekyll and a decadent, domineering Hyde who only likes to show his face once in a blue moon.
My fingers fly over the screen before I overthink what I should say.
Nothing much.
Eric is almost eight hundred miles away. And we don’t owe each other anything. For all I know, he could be hooking up with someone in New York.
I check my reflection in the mirror and smooth my dress. It’s a simple black sheath with a square neckline and a slit that accentuates the curve of my hips. I’ve teased my hair to perfection, and as I slip into a pair of black pumps, I can’t help but feel like a little hussy.
I’ve never gotten dolled up for a sex date before. As a matter of fact, it’s been years since I’ve been this dressed up at all. Part of me feels exhilarated, while the other feels guilty.
Once Bagel is done doing his business outside, I give him a treat and check my phone once more.
Is it weird to say I miss you?
Fuck.
Something knocks on my ribs, trying to get to the organ nestled between my lungs.
Hope.
Longing .
A familiar sense of comfort that seems to be present whenever Eric and I are within mere feet of each other.
As I stare down at my screen, thinking of a reply, a message comes through from Nate on the SparksFly app.
Message Received.
SUBJECT: SEE YOU SOON
I’M HEADED TO THE RESTAURANT. CAN’T WAIT TO MEET YOU.
X
-NATE
My heart does a backflip, and at the same time, my stomach goes cartwheeling in what seems like the other direction.
I’m a terrible person.
No, you’re a human with needs, and Nate seems like as good a guy as any to fulfill those needs.
While the proverbial angel and devil on my shoulders argue, I reply to Nate, telling him I’m also on my way.
And I let the text from Eric remain unanswered.
“I honestly feel like I hit the jackpot. Seriously, you are a smoke show,” Nate tells me for the fourth time since we sat down twenty minutes ago.
He’s cute—with dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and an aquiline nose with a small bump in the middle. But I find myself comparing his sandy strands to a chocolate bar, the green and brown specks to the bright, clear sky, and the slight downturned ridge to a straighter Grecian-like statue.
We’re barely into our first glass of wine, and I already know I’m not going to be able to go through with it.
“Listen, Nate?—”
“Are you ready to order?” our waiter interrupts us.
Nate already informed me that dinner was on him. “ None of that splitting the check bullshit,” he’d said, which makes me wish I wanted to be here more than I do. He seems like an alright guy. At least someone who can roll me around in bed like I need—and perhaps stay on the call for a good time list.
So I order a steak and a baked sweet potato with a side salad. Nate also orders a steak, opting for steamed veggies and a regular potato. When the waiter leaves, he claps his hands together and waggles his eyebrows.
“I love a woman with an appetite,” he says. It makes me laugh, and Jonathan instantly pokes back into my memories.
“What? I’m hungry.”
“I do love feeding you.”
The recollection has heat infusing my cheeks, and I rub my thighs together to alleviate the sudden need that settles in my core. Nate seems to pick up on my abrupt change in body language, and his eyes darken, dipping to where the lower half of my body disappears beneath the table’s edge.
“I’m going to enjoy peeling that dress off you later,” he says thickly, voice edged in a huskiness that wasn’t there earlier.
As soon as my mouth opens to tell him I’m not sure that’s where the night is going to lead us, a shadow falls over the table. Nate drags his eyes from me to look up, his eyebrows dipping in confusion before darting back to me. I follow his gaze, but hear an unmistakable rich tenor before I realize who’s standing at our table.
“Evelyn?”
Eric?
Blinking rapidly, I stare dumbly up at the man looking at me as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. His dark eyebrows are notched together, blue eyes glowing with confusion and betrayal. He looks fucking edible in dark jeans, a white button-up with the top few buttons undone, and a black herringbone casual sports jacket.
“Eric! Hi. What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York?” My chair makes a sharp squeak as I scoot it back and rise to my feet.
Way to go, . You look guiltier than Bagel when he breaks into the treat container.
Eric swallows thickly, jaw clenching as he runs his eyes over me, then glances back at Nate, who’s staring at us like he’s about to get a show. When he turns his gaze back to me, his eyes have hardened in a way I recognize all too well .
He’s putting walls up.
Remorse picks up a sledgehammer and slams it into my ribs, my breath getting caught in my throat with the force of the blow.
“I came back for a work dinner,” he nods over his shoulder, “I was planning on surprising you later. But it looks like I’m the one who got the surprise.”
“Eric–” I hate that I’m about to cry. I can feel the tears stinging their way up my sinuses, and my bottom lip begins to tremble.
“Don’t worry about it, Evelyn.” He smiles at me, but it’s tight and doesn’t show off his perfect teeth, then looks at Nate. “Sorry to interrupt your evening.”
“Look, man…” Nate holds up his hands like he wants nothing to do with the situation unfolding before him.
“Seriously, it’s not a big deal.” Eric waves him off. “You two have a good night.”
He turns away, and I take a step toward him, hand rising to stop him from leaving. But he strides away swiftly, returning to a large round table on the other side of the room full of people who look like they’re discussing business.
Collapsing back in my seat, I plant my elbows on the edge of the table while Nate lets out a low whistle. “Soooo,” he draws out the word. “Is that your boyfriend or something?”
Sighing, I shake my head. “No.”
It’s not a lie.
So then why do I feel like I got caught cheating?