27. Natalie
27
NATALIE
M y insides vibrate with the thought of tonight. It’s the sex, of course. The sex’s been out of this world, and I can’t wait to see what else he’ll come up with.
I sense him watching me the whole day, his gaze eating me alive, making my skin prickle, and my nipples harden.
At 4:30, he walks over to my desk.
“Let’s go. Five minutes.”
“Who says I’m done?” I ask.
“Who says I’m asking?” His eyes are dark and serious, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make it hard for him. Literally and figuratively.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m strutting around the parking lot to him, not a care in the world.
“Trying to get punished again?” he asks, and my pussy pulses at the thought.
“Maybe.” I smirk and close the door, throwing my small gym bag on the backseat.
“You’re such a brat.” He shakes his head.
“Come on, you love it.” I pat his shoulder playfully but wish to retract it immediately.
He keeps his gaze on the road and doesn’t respond. Thank God. Using the L word, even like this is a slippery slope.
“So, any plans this weekend?” I change the topic.
“Just a lunch at my mom’s. Maybe I’ll learn a new recipe.” He shrugs.
We’re about five minutes away from his house when his phone rings. The car screen shows his mom is calling. “Speaking of...” he says before picking up on speaker.
“Matt, honey, sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. What’s up?” He glances a look at me, but I’m staying silent, not wanting his mom to know I’m here.
“Urm...I think I have a flat tire. And I’d try to change it myself, but you know my back hasn’t been well, and I don’t want to mess it up even worse.”
“Don’t do anything yourself, Mom. Where are you?”
“Just a few miles from the house.”
“I’ll be right there, send me your location.”
“Ok, honey. Thank you.”
The phone call ends.
“Sorry, it shouldn’t take long. I’m pretty good at changing tires.” I plaster on a smile, but it’s not the time I’m worried about.
It’s the meeting his mom part. Fuck, I should have asked him to drop me off at his house first.
Of course, he’s the type of man to drop everything when his mom needs him. That’s Matt. The good guy. And of course, he hadn’t even thought about the awkwardness of me meeting his mom. We’re all adults, right?
My stomach is in knots the entire way there. When he parks the car on the side of the road, I contemplate staying in the car and scrolling on my phone, but that would be too rude. So, I put my fearless mask on and exit the car.
His mom hugs him tightly before setting her sights on me. Her eyes are as green as Matt’s, but she’s probably a foot shorter. I guess she was at work since she’s wearing heeled booties and a pantsuit.
“Mom, this is Natalie. Natalie, this is Cecilia, my mom.” I try to put out my hand, but she pulls me into a tight hug as well.
“It’s so nice to meet you, dear,” she coos, with kind eyes and a wide smile.
I know his mom can’t wait for him to settle down, I’ve heard him talk about it. And I can only imagine she’s currently planning our wedding in her mind—which makes acid build in my throat.
She looks nice and caring, and she raised the incredible man standing between us, but I have no place meeting her. Matt and I are not like that. We’re not serious.
Matt eyes me for a second before pulling Cecilia’s attention away from me.
“What happened, Mom?” She gets into the story about how she must have run over something sharp, but I stop listening.
I try to take deep breaths before I hyperventilate, but the buzzing in my ears only gets louder.
We can’t be serious. I don’t do relationships.
One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
I do the breathing exercise I taught myself back in college, trying to push away the fear.
The two of them are either engrossed in tire changing or avoiding me altogether, but I’m thankful for the reprieve. My breathing finally calms down as they finish the job.
“Are you okay, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she asks, bringing her attention back to me.
“I’m not feeling too well.” She gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
“Maybe you’re coming down with something. You better take good care of her.” She points a finger at Matt, who is gazing at me warily.
“You know I will, Mom.” He presses a gentle peck on her cheek before she climbs back into her car.
“It was nice meeting you, Natalie.” She peeks her head out of the car. “You should bring her to lunch when she’s feeling better.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Drive safe, Mom.”
I manage a meek wave before I crash on the passenger seat of the car.
“Are you OK?” he asks, closing his door.
“I’m not feeling well. You should take me home.”
“Did I do something?” He starts the car.
“Nope. I’m just not feeling well.”
“You sure?” His hands clench around the steering wheel.
“It was too much.” My gaze is trained on the side of the road.
“What was?”
I huff out a frustrated breath. “Meeting your mom, Matt. It’s not who we are.” I motion to the two of us.
“I know it’s not. But I didn’t plan this. It wasn’t a ‘meet the parents’ type of deal; she just needed my help.”
“I get that, but now she’s thinking we’re more than we are.”
“And would that be so bad?” He sneaks a glance at me.
“Yes! Yes, Matt. I’ve been telling you this for a while now.” My voice is louder now.
Sighing, he drags a hand through his hair. “Look, I know, OK? It won’t happen again. It was an accident, a coincidence. Let’s just forget about it and enjoy our date?” Blood drains from my face hearing the word.
“Of course, it was a date. It was a fucking sleepover.” It was stupid of me to think it was something else. “Take me back to my car,” I say, calmly, knowing I have to stop this before it goes further.
He nods his head, his knuckles whitening with the grip on the steering wheel.
“If that’s what you want.”
We drive in silence the rest of the way. He parks next to my car in front of the office building and looks at me.
“I’m sorry if I went too far. I never meant to push you.”
“No, you did. You just hoped I wouldn’t notice you pushing me.” Venom spits from my mouth as I battle my disappointment. I was happy with what we were, but he was coaxing me to get his way.
“You know what?” His voice gets louder. “I did. Because I like you, Natalie. I like you so fucking much. And I can’t stop thinking about you. I want us to be more than fuck buddies.” His face scrunches up in disgust. “So much more. So, sorry for trying to make it real!”
“I don’t do real!” I shout in his face, pushing a finger into his chest. “I’ve told you that a million times. You knew what you were getting yourself into. You just thought you could mold me to fit what you’re looking for.”
“You’re right, I did know. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t have you and not have you. It’s too fucking painful.” His hand closes around my own. His green eyes pierce into me, filled with sadness. Any I feel my own eyes filling up.
“You can’t have me. No one can. I’m not a piece of property to have.”
“I’m not saying that.” He pulls on his hair, tears welling up in his eyes. “But I need more.”
“Well, I wish you all the best in finding that. Having more free time will definitely help your dating life.” I grab my bag from the backseat and exit the car.
“Please text me when you get home. It’s already dark out,” he says before I close the door. He stares at me through the windshield, his eyes saying a million more unspoken words.
I keep my cool while I start my car and drive myself home. I don’t break down until I’m parked near my building, but when I do, a sob escapes me while my eyes flood with tears. The panic attack I almost had meeting his mom drained me of energy.
Of course, he doesn’t want to same thing I do. He’s meant to be a loving partner, a family man.
Why would he settle for less with a damaged old me? Why would he settle for the crumbs of attention I give him when he could have it all?
He’s supposed to be finding his soul mate and though the thought of him being with someone else crushes me, it’s a fact I’ll have to suck up.
When my tears finally dry out, another emotion swells inside of me. My mind tries to be the voice of reason, claiming we’re simply too different, but my heart pumps louder, furious with him.
I may only want sex, but I was honest from the start. I never pretended to want anything different. He was to one claiming to be ok with the whole thing, all the while trying to manipulate me into something else.
My old therapist would have a field day with this. Deflecting your grief with anger, I see. Masking your hurt with the resting bitch face.
I don’t give a shit. It’s how I’ve survived for so long, and the only problem now was I let someone get too close, again.
It makes me feel weak. It makes me feel like the young girl I was once was, completely destroyed because she trusted someone.
I promised myself wouldn’t be making that mistake again. And I won’t.
This was just a miscalculation, a glitch. The pain I feel is the disappointment from falling into his trap, not the proof I’ve fallen into something more.