11. Dotty
Chapter 11
Dotty
I wake up the next morning with my body aching in the best way. My breasts and stomach have beard burn. My thighs hurt from squatting over Zac.
I reach for his side of the bed, determined to make him feel as good as he made me feel last night. Except he isn’t here.
I sit up, tugging up the blanket over my body as I hear the water in the bathroom stop running.
He steps out, a scowl on his face. His expression brightens he sees me, his eyes softening. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he crosses the room and drops a kiss on my forehead.
He’s already dressed in a soft gray T-shirt that’s faded. The material clings to his biceps and that slight pooch of his stomach. His blue jeans cling to his thighs and I let my gaze lift to that monster between his legs. I want him in me.
But he must know what I’m thinking about, because he says, “I have to leave in five.”
“Oh, something for work?” I ask softly. I don’t remember there being anything on the schedule for the two of us to do today. But then again, every thought in my head kind of fell out as soon as Zac put his magic tongue all over my body.
He groans. “I have to be on the road all day for radio interviews, but I would love to take you out on a date tonight.”
It’s not one of our three dates, but I still want to go with him. The more time I spend around Zac, the more amazed I am at the strong man he is.
“Well, Book Club is scheduled to end early tonight,” I tell him. He gives me a grin. “Great, I’ll pick you up after that.”
After a flurry of kisses that grow increasingly hotter, Zac wrenches himself away from me and gives me a smirk. “Be good while I’m gone.”
“It depends on whether you make it worth my while,” I tease.
“Good girls always get rewards,” he promises with a slow wink that makes my heart race. This man has no right to be so sexy.
After Zac leaves, I take a quick shower and gather my things. As I hurry out of his place, I make my way to The Courage Chronicle to finish up my work.
I’m driving Rust Bucket on the way to book club when I realize I haven’t called my parents in a couple of weeks. I debate whether I should even call for a long moment before guilt finally wins out.
They’re my family, and I think of the Maple family, how they’re always calling and talking to each other. Obviously, closeness starts with actually talking to my parents.
Maybe if I work a little harder, we can be as close as the Maples one day. As soon as I think that thought, my heart aches. Should getting along with your family really be this complicated?
With a deep breath, I connect to them using the hands-free mode on my phone. Despite the fact that I know they are both home from work, neither of them picks up when I call.
I do what I’ve always done and try to leave a cheerful voicemail.
“Hey, it’s me. I’ve written two articles since last month, and I’ve interviewed someone really cool. He’s…well, we’re kind of dating now, and he’s pretty great,” I tell them with a hitch in my voice.
I can’t believe I’m telling them about my fake relationship. But there’s a small, desperate part of me that hopes if I tell them about Zac, they’ll reach out and ask all sorts of questions. Maybe they’ll even want to meet him.
For some crazy reason, my heart leaps at the idea. It would finally be proof that they care, that I actually matter.
“He’s really special,” I explain, “and I’m going on a date with him later tonight, so I’ll call you soon. Oh, and Mom, I ate two salads this week without croutons. Anyway, I’ll talk to you both later.”
I end the call and release a relieved breath that it’s over. I want to call Zac and listen to the quiet rumble of his voice. I want him to reassure me that he cares about me. But I don’t call, because I know he’s busy. Instead, I swallow down the emotions and park Rust Bucket outside of Sadie’s bakery.
We hold book club here most nights because everyone loves her donuts, and she doesn’t mind letting us sample her new flavors.
I’m the last one to arrive at book club today. The other three girls are already gathered around the table. There’s Evie, Lizzy, and Sadie.
The three of them already have the books in front of them, and they’re talking animatedly about the well-hung hero. See, the four of us love to read alien smut together. Then we spend our book clubs cackling about the unusual anatomy of the heroes.
“All I’m saying is I wouldn’t kick a man with a tail out of my bed, not if he could do that with it,” Lizzy says.
I can’t help laughing as I slide into my chair. “It’s the ridges that get me.”
Sadie nods, and I know she understands exactly what I’m talking about.
“And the ending,” Ivy says, putting a hand to her chest like she’s about to start swooning right there.
Evie bites into her donut with the pink frosting and says, “I loved all of it. I can’t wait for the sequel.”
“Didn’t you feel kind of weird about the ending?” I ask the group. “She gave up her whole life for him. She left Earth forever. She’ll never get to come back.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Sadie says.
“I don’t think I could do that,” I tell them. “I couldn’t imagine leaving my home planet for a guy. It’s too risky. What if it doesn’t work out between us?”
The girls exchange a look, like maybe I’m talking about more than I am, but I’m not. My question is purely about the fictional world. I am not thinking about a certain hot cowboy at all.
“Well, I mean, it’s never easy,” Sadie starts.
“It’s definitely not easy,” Evie confirms. “Sometimes the hardest thing in the world is being willing to let someone else become your world.”
“That moment when you feel so vulnerable and exposed is really hard,” I answer, surprised that there are tears gathering in my eyes.
I didn’t come here tonight to cry to my friends, but none of them are upset by my emotions. That’s the beauty of having a girl squad who has seen you through everything. They can handle your big emotions.
“Love requires vulnerability, sometimes,” Sadie says in that knowing big sister voice she has. She always perfectly understands what I’m struggling with.
“I’m not sure I’m that brave,” I whisper.
Lizzy says, “Love makes us brave. People think that to be vulnerable means to be weak, but it actually takes a special kind of strength, because when you’re vulnerable with someone, you’re willing to be broken.”
Evie nods. “It’s easier to hide out and keep people at a distance. It’s easier to deal with your fear of rejection than to risk everything and be accepted.”
I think about how after leaving that voicemail for my parents, the only thing I wanted to do was call Zac. I wanted to hear his voice reassuring me that everything was fine. But what if one day he looks at me the same way they do? What if one day he won’t take my calls and I’m just leaving sad voicemails?
Lizzy reaches for me, squeezing my hand, “Sometimes, being our true selves means removing our armor a little bit at a time. It doesn’t have to be all at once.”
I nod, understanding what she said. Maybe being brave doesn’t have to happen all at once. Maybe I can be a little bit brave tonight and then show up tomorrow and be a little bit brave again.