Chapter 6
Eliza
What was I thinking?
I pace my living room as I stare at the text messages with Mac.
When he asked if I was free on Tuesday for dinner, I never imagined he meant at his place.
I thought that we’d meet at a restaurant, I’d ask my questions and leave.
But the address he texted me is for a residential building in the middle of downtown.
My stomach twists with anxiety as I clutch my phone in my hand. Am I actually considering not only going to his apartment by myself, but also this ridiculous arrangement?
I’ve lived so much of my life wrapped in this bubble, first because of my parents and then because it felt safe.
Sticking to what I knew and avoiding things that could potentially hurt me emotionally or physically became my way of life.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s time to break the habit and try something new.
As much as I don’t understand Zoey and Liv’s idea of manifesting, I can look at it as more a New Year’s resolution.
Finally have sex.
I still can’t believe I actually wrote those words down on paper.
The thoughts crossed my mind for a while, watching as my friends have found partners and the stories they’ve told over the years, but something about all of it hit me differently this year.
It was like for the first time I actually felt like I was missing out on something and wanted to be able to experience it just like my friends.
Even though I’d watched them experience heart break and the struggles of finding the right person, it was like a small voice in the back of my mind slowly started growing louder as each of my friends found the person they wanted to spend the rest of their life with.
It’s worth it. Do it.
By the time we hit New Year’s, it was like I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I figured it would be easier to break that physical wall before the emotional. Have sex and get it over with before I start looking for someone to build a deep emotional bond with.
I don’t like the thought of saying “it’s just sex” because really it’s giving a part of yourself to someone through trust, but it seems less daunting than handing a piece of my heart over to someone. Than asking them to protect a piece of me.
When I wrote down the manifestation, though, I never thought that Mac would be the person I would be considering doing this with. If we were to do this, I’d have to continue to see him even after our agreement is over. I don’t think the girls would let me just stop showing up to games.
I throw myself on my couch, groaning as thoughts of every possible way this could go run through my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them and quickly typing out a text confirming that I’ll meet him on Tuesday at seven thirty.
As I hit send, a rope wraps around my stomach, tightening and making me feel physically sick from the anxiety.
I stare at my apartment, trying to figure out what to do that will distract me from this feeling.
There’s so much I could do, but before I know it I’ve been sitting on my couch for thirty minutes as my mind spirals.
Finally shoving off my couch, I slip into some workout clothes and decide to hit the gym. Maybe some time on the treadmill with some music will help get me out of my head.
By the time Tuesday comes around, I’m an anxious mess. I’m puttering around my room, pulling outfit after outfit out of my closet as I try to find something to wear. I was so worried about tonight that I actually skipped lunch so I could leave work early and figure out what to wear.
It’s five ,and I still have to shower, wash my hair, shave, and pick out an outfit before I leave in just over two hours. I can’t call the girls for help because then I’ll have to explain the whole situation to them, and that’s not happening.
I’ve whittled my options down to three different outfits and decide I’ll make a decision after I’ve showered.
The alarm on my phone buzzing has my stomach tightening as I take one last look at myself in the mirror and shut it off as I leave my apartment.
I order an Uber, fiddling with my fingers in my lap the entire time.
When we pull up outside the address, I thank my driver.
Taking a steadying breath, I enter the code into the buzzer system and listen for the sound of the door unlocking.
I give myself an internal pep talk as I watch the numbers on the elevator count up before finally stopping on the top floor.
It takes everything in me to finally knock on his door.
It doesn’t take long before Mac is pulling the door open and I’m nearly swallowing my tongue.
He’s wearing slacks that look like they were tailor-made for him, pulling tight across his thighs and I’m sure his ass too.
His navy-blue dress shirt has a button at the top and fits him just as well.
All of this with his perfect dark-brown hair, piercing brown eyes, and jawline you could cut glass on makes me almost weak in the knees.
He steps back, giving me space to enter the apartment, and offers to take my jacket. I fumble my way out of it, handing it to him before he hangs it in the closet next to the door.
“I’m still finishing dinner,” he says. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
My answering “Yes” comes out almost too quickly, and I force myself not to wince. He smiles softly, and I follow him into the kitchen. It’s much fuller than I expected, small appliances sitting on the counter showing that he likely uses his kitchen regularly.
He grabs a bottle of wine from a rack with a variety of options and asks, “Is red okay? It will go best with dinner.”
I nod, and he pours us each a glass, sliding mine across the counter to me. I take a small sip, and the flavour explodes across my tongue. I’m no wine connoisseur, but this wine tastes expensive and like nothing I’d buy for myself.
“Dinner should be done shortly,” he says, turning to stir something on the stove. I watch his back and the way the muscles move as he effortlessly makes his way around the kitchen completing dinner. I can’t remember the last time a man made me food.
I haven’t dated a lot, and the men I have dated didn’t last long, maybe two or three dates before I knew that it wasn’t going anywhere and there was no point in continuing to see them.
The silence that fills the room is suffocating. I slowly move from the kitchen into the living room, not so secretly snooping. The place is filled with little to no photos and is spotless. There isn’t a spec of dust on a single surface.
There’s a few pieces of art on the walls, but looking at them doesn’t give me any insight into who Mac is as a person.
He doesn’t have any movies or video games out for people to see, but he does have a collection of CDs.
I slowly browse them, noticing a few bands I recognize.
As my finger is trailing across the spines of the CD cases, Mac calls that dinner’s done.
I head back into the kitchen to find him setting plates on a table off to the side of the kitchen.
I smile as he pulls out a chair and indicates for me to take it. I slide my hands along my backside, tucking my dress under my legs as I take a seat.
“It’s my mum’s cottage pie recipe,” Mac says as I take in what he’s made.
He tops up my wine, and I thank him as I take my first bite of dinner, fighting the urge to moan around the mouthful. Mac takes a bite, watching me, and I grab my napkin, wiping my mouth before saying, “This is really good, thank you.”
He nods and says, “You’re welcome.”
Awkward silence fills the air as we both have a few more bites. He’s the one to finally say something, though.
“You said you have questions.”
I put my spoon down, nodding. “I do. This whole thing is a little weird to me.”
He takes a sip of his wine, and I watch as he swallows and his throat bobs. My skin starts to heat at my ears as his tongue darts across his lips. I’m already having a reaction to him that I thought I’d be able to avoid today. “I understand that. I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”
“You said you need me to pretend to be your girlfriend, why not go and find an actual girlfriend?” I ask.
His fingers delicately run up and down the stem of his wine glass as he watches me, his head tilting to the side slightly as the corner of his mouth tips up the smallest amount.
“Because you fascinate me.”
The way the word fascinate rolls off his tongue has me fighting back chills.
I take a small sip of my wine before asking, “And what would you need me to do?”
Something flashes in his eyes before he says, “I need to convince my father that I’m in a serious relationship, so that means we need to get to know each other enough that we can answer basic questions.
We’ll need to place some of your things around my place in case my father decides to make one of his surprise visits. ”
I nod a few times. That sounds easy enough.
Spend some time together and get to know him, and I’m sure I can part with some things from my apartment to make it seem like I’ve stayed here before.
I don’t have the courage to ask him about how he’d help me with my manifestation.
I dip my head and focus on my food, avoiding looking at him and knowing that it’s our next topic.
When I can’t fight it anymore, my gaze flicks to his face. The look in his eyes has heat growing between my thighs, forcing me to take another sip of my wine.