2. Natalie
2
NATALIE
T en months ago . . .
“Natalie, right?”
I hate looking at his stupid face.
His stupid, gorgeous, symmetrical face. Including his full lips, that dare to pretend he doesn’t remember me. His green eyes stare at me, waiting for a response.
“Yup. That’s me.” My tone is rude, making him wince.
Anne, my coworker and friend, continues talking to him, oblivious to the tension between Matt and me. They had a coffee meeting planned, but she promised it would be short and asked me to come with for company. When she told me who she was meeting with, I should’ve said no, but I hadn’t seen him since our fateful night at the bar near the BYC office.
Since we work with children, most of the programs at the Butterfly Youth Center, also known as the BYC, tie into the school year. Therefore, at the end of each, we host a gathering in our office for the volunteers. This year, we got rowdy and ended up in a nearby sports bar.
Matt and I stayed long after our colleagues left. The sparks between us were practically palpable, and not long after their exit, we found ourselves in the grimy restroom, tearing each other’s clothes off.
It isn’t unusual for me. One-night stands are the only type of relationship I can, well...stand. Still, it was pretty unusual to have the best sex of my life in a dirty bar bathroom with a man who is an associate.
Anne’s the one dealing with the associates ninety percent of the time, but we still have some yearly functions we’ll both attend, and I prefer to not mix business and pleasure. Nothing good can come of it.
It leads me to why I’m here today. I’m not interested in any type of relationship—I know the night from two months ago can’t happen again—but I wanted to see the man responsible for so many of my self-inflicted orgasms.
You know how you sometimes build something or someone up in your head, just because they are somehow unattainable? Well, I wanted to burst the bubble I built up inside my head about Matt. To burst the memory of this ideal male, right out of a Hallmark movie. A good guy with the cock of a porn star you spend your life comparing every other sexual experience to.
Good news: He burst the bubble, acting like he doesn’t remember me.
Bad news: It did nothing to diminish the way my body reacts to him.
At least it’s enough for my brain to put him in the enemy category—and an enemy he is. My stomach churns with rage just looking at him, but it’s an upgrade from the arousal swirling when he first entered the coffee shop.
It may be silly, but acting like he forgot all about me is a low blow. Especially when usually I’m the one forgetting, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that night for two months.
Annoyed with even hearing him talk, I look around the fairly new coffee shop in downtown Seattle. It’s a cozy spot, with comfortable gray armchairs and light wood accents throughout. The scent of freshly brewed coffee is a decoration on its own, so I inhale deeply, trying to breathe in the coffee and exhale part of my anger.
On an exhale, my gaze meets Matt’s and I see resentment clearly in the lush depths of his forest green eyes. My eyes widen in shock before I put the resting bitch face back in place.
Is he fucking serious? Being resentful toward me when he’s the one pretending he doesn’t know me?
Just as I decide to cut this coffee date short, Anne gets up to use the restroom, leaving the two of us alone. Quickly scanning the surroundings for available weapons, I contemplate how much would I lose by stabbing him right in his Adam’s apple, which is currently distracting me by bobbing as he swallows.
“Are you mad?” he asks, like the douchebag he is.
My eyes almost get stuck in the back of my head. “A mind reader, are you?”
“Look, I’m only doing what you told me. Acting like it never happened.” He has the audacity to sound bitter, like I’m the one in the wrong here.
“Pretending what never happened?” In the back of my mind, I know I’m taking this too far, but I can’t stop myself. I want him to feel what I felt, being excited to see him and getting hit with ‘Natalie, right?’
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, grow up. It was meaningless sex. I hadn’t even remembered before seeing you today.” His eyes widen, mouth opens slightly, as if I slapped him. A tiny pang of remorse taints the victorious feeling inside me.
Shaking his head, he takes another sip of his coffee, and I decide it’s time to bounce.
“Tell Anne I had to leave.”