Chapter 2
Chapter Two
I crack open my eyelids the next morning and take in my surroundings. I’m in a bed that’s not my own, and my naked body is wrapped up in the coziest sheets I’ve ever slept on. The spot beside me is empty, and I reach over to feel the depression in the mattress. Still warm, which tells me that I haven’t been alone long. There’s a faint sound of a shower running somewhere close to this room, and I’m pretty sure there’s a coffee maker going, judging by the scent that’s permeating the air.
I roll over and check my phone for the time. It’s just after six in the morning. Why the hell am I awake right now? I’m never up this early, but it’s probably for the best since I’m in someone else’s house. I’m feeling very rusty when it comes to what to do here. Should I throw on last night’s clothes and get an Uber home before he gets out of the shower? Or should I wait and see if maybe there’s going to be a round two this morning? I’m deliciously sore down there since it’s been years since I’ve last done the deed, but I wouldn’t let that stop me.
I remember so much from last night, and I didn’t expect that. That’s probably because when we came back to his place, we didn’t have sex right away. We spent some time talking on his couch before going back to his bedroom.
And… oh, God.
Now I remember how we got to the actual act. I practically attacked him. I remember straddling him on the couch, basically throwing myself at him, and him asking me if I was sure I wanted to. Nothing was going to stop me from having sex last night. Nothing.
Oh, no.
Did I force Justin into doing something he didn’t want to do? Surely he would’ve said something, right?
Right at that moment, he comes into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He smiles when he sees me. I want to get a good look at him in the daylight and appreciate what’s in front of me, but I can’t look him in the eye.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be awake yet. How are you feeling this morning?”
I give a half-hearted shrug and barely glance his way. “I’m okay. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” He stands there, taking in my appearance. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem quiet this morning.”
I might as well just come out with it. “Did I…force you into anything last night?”
He smiles, his concern for me dissipating. “Relax. We didn’t do anything I didn’t already want to do. I could’ve said no.”
“Even as I was straddling your lap and grinding on top of you?” I ask, grinning at the memory.
He nods, then leans in to give me a peck on the lips. “Even then.”
“In that case, any chance for round two this morning?”
“You mean round three?” he asks, giving me a sly look.
“Round three?” How did I not remember us having sex a second time last night? Maybe I wasn’t as lucid as I thought.
He chuckles. “I’m kidding. There was only the round one. I wish I had time for round two, but I’m already running behind.”
“Behind? What time do you normally wake up?” If this is late for him, I’d hate to see what’s early.
“Usually four-thirty because I try to get in a run, but I didn’t mind sleeping in this morning. You seemed very cozy, and I didn’t want to disturb you. And I didn’t want to leave the house in case you woke up while I was gone. I would’ve hated if you dashed off without me getting your number.”
“I wouldn’t have left,” I say, lying through my teeth. That thought definitely did cross my mind.
“If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed. The bathroom is yours if you need it. I went ahead and got you a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from my closet. They’re on the bathroom counter. I don’t expect them to fit well, but they might be a little nicer to wear around than what you had on last night. Not that I didn’t like your outfit last night…”
He doesn’t bother elaborating and doesn’t need to. He told me multiple times how sexy I looked in my skirt, even as he was sliding it off me. “Thanks. I’ll just be a few minutes.” I sit up in the bed, still keeping the sheets wrapped around me, and right before he steps into the walk-in closet, he turns toward me.
“I’d like to make you breakfast before you leave. How do you take your eggs? I mean, assuming you eat eggs. If you don’t, I can make you something else.”
I smile at his concern for getting even the smallest details right. “Eggs are fine. And I’ll take them scrambled, please.”
I grab my underwear off the floor, and in the bathroom, I slip on the clothes he set out for me. He’s right. They don’t fit well, and I have to roll the waistband on the shorts over a few times to get them to stay up. But the shirt fits fine, albeit a little baggy. I look down at what’s on the shirt, and it’s from some 5K race that happened last year called the Salmon Run. I use the bathroom, then glance at my reflection in the mirror as I’m washing my hands. The post-sex, wearing-someone-else’s-clothes look isn’t exactly doing me any favors, but it’s all I’ve got. At least my hair looks okay and last night’s mascara isn’t all over the place.
I leave the bathroom and head down the hallway into the kitchen where Justin is at the stove moving a spatula around a pan. He’s dressed in a pair of dark gray dress slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a pink tie.
The kitchen is dated and small, with only a two-seater table in the corner. The tile counter is pale yellow, and the tile backsplash is a coordinating light blue. Right near the table is a door leading to the outside, and above the table is a window that faces the neighbor’s house. Outside, the clouds are thick and heavy, so our only source of light is a small fixture in the middle of the ceiling.
“Go ahead and have a seat at the table,” he says, gesturing toward it. “Your eggs will be ready in a minute.”
On the table is a plate with some toast on it. Containers of butter and jam flank the plate. There are two coffee mugs sitting across from one another, one full with black coffee and the other empty.
“I assume the empty one is mine?” I ask, picking it up.
“If you take creamer, it’s in the fridge, and the sugar is right there.” He points to a container on the counter.
My bare feet pad across the vinyl floor, and I fill the mug about three quarters of the way with coffee, then the rest with cream. Two spoonfuls of sugar go in, and I stir it all in. Justin stares at me with a curious expression on his face. “What?” I ask, suddenly unsure of myself. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Not at all. I was just seeing how you take your coffee.”
“Why? Are you trying to determine my personality based on my coffee preferences?” I ask with a smile.
“Maybe.” He strokes his beard like he’s deep in thought. “Based on how you take your coffee, which you like sweet, I can tell that you’re a nice person who likes to please people.”
I chuckle. “You shouldn’t read so much into someone’s coffee order because right now, I can tell you’re a psychopath because you drink your coffee black.”
He belts out a laugh, then grabs two plates from the cupboard. He spoons somewhat equal portions of eggs on both plates, then sets one down on each end of the table. “Let’s eat before these eggs get cold.”
I sit down at one end of the table as he takes the other. I take a few bites of eggs which are perfectly seasoned, then grab a piece of toast which I butter first before taking a bite. “Tell me about your house. Do you rent this place? Do you have a roommate?” I ask, fully expecting him to say yes to both questions. Most people I know don’t make enough to even come close to buying a house in this area. And most people I know have to have at least one or more roommates to make ends meet, even with a rental.
“No, I own this place,” he says, then registers the shock on my face. “And before you ask, I didn’t buy it. My dad left this place to me when he died. It belonged to his parents, and when he and my mom split up when I was young, they sold their house, split the profits, and he moved here. It’s not perfect, and in terms of homes, it definitely wouldn’t have been my first choice, but it’s paid for.”
“I wouldn’t walk away from a house that’s paid for either. Especially in this real estate market. Have you done any remodeling since you’ve owned it?”
“You mean you can’t tell?” he asks, clutching his chest, acting wounded. “Look around you. Can’t you see all the improvements I’ve made?”
I glance around the kitchen and open my mouth to speak, ready to lie and say that I love the colors in here and his design choices are top-notch. But he waves me off.
“I’m kidding. I’m for sure going to remodel this place, starting with the kitchen. That counter will be the first thing that goes.” He glances toward the counter, then shakes his head. “It’s awful.”
“It’s not that bad,” I say, trying to make him feel better. But really, it is that bad. I don’t even know what decade those colors are supposed to be from.
“You don’t have to try to make me feel better. I know it’s terrible, and as soon as I get some time and a decent paycheck coming in, I’m changing it. I’d like to open up this kitchen too, and make this more of an open-concept layout.”
I turn my head toward the living room which is larger and has a fireplace. Opening up this kitchen would do wonders because it’s small and cramped as it is. “Well, I hope you manage to remodel this place sooner rather than later.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because for practically my whole life, I’ve had to listen to my mother talk about remodeling her kitchen. It’s something that’s been on her to-do list for decades, and she’d always talk about how she couldn’t wait to have her ‘new kitchen.’ It’s finally happening though. My dad gave the go-ahead this past Christmas, and they just started demoing.”
“Lucky for me, some of my friends are contractors, and I’m pretty handy myself, so I can do a lot of this on my own.”
Justin is a doctor and he’s also capable of home repairs. Is there anything he can’t do? I’ve never caulked a tub, and if you asked me to change the furnace filter, all I’d give is a blank stare. Those do need to be changed, right?
“Enough about me,” he says, scraping the last bits of egg off his plate and onto his fork. “What do you do for work?”
“I work as a receptionist at a chiropractor’s office. It’s not my dream job, and I’ve definitely been searching for others, but it works for now.” Not true. I haven’t been looking for others, but it sounded like the right thing to say. Justin seems to have a very firm grasp on what he wants from life whereas I’m still floundering, trying to find my way. Whenever I get down about it, which is often, my mother likes to use my age as a way to explain away my shortcomings in life. She always says, “You’re only twenty-six. You have plenty of time to figure out what you want to do with your life.” But I don’t want ten years to go by and her to still be using the same excuse.
He nods, then takes a sip of his coffee. “Did you go to college?”
“Yeah, at U-Dub. I majored in marketing, and my passion is advertising.”
“With that kind of degree, I’m sure you’ll find something that fits you,” he says with a warm smile. He gets up from the table and takes his plate to the sink. I take that as my cue to hurry up and shovel down the last few bites that remain on my plate. “I don’t want to rush you, but if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to be late. Do you have a car we need to go pick up from the bar?”
I shake my head. “My friends and I took an Uber, which is how I was going to get home this morning, so you don’t need to worry about taking me anywhere.”
“I can at least take you home,” he says while rinsing off his plate in the sink. “That’s assuming you don’t live someplace like Issaquah. I’m not sure I have time for that with the way traffic is.”
“I don’t live in Issaquah. My sister and I rent a house on 11 th Avenue, right near Ravenna Boulevard.”
His eyes light up. “That’s not far from here. I can definitely take you there.”
“I don’t even know where I am right now,” I say, holding back a grin. “I was barely paying attention when we left the bar last night.” I realize that in terms of my own safety, I should’ve at least made a mental note or taken a picture of my surroundings in case Justin turned out to be a serial killer and I had to make a quick escape. But I was too caught up in the fact that I was finally going to have sex after my years-long dry spell to worry about doing responsible things like that.
“We’re in the University District, and it should only take about ten minutes to drive to your place, and not much longer for me to get to work.”
“In that case,” I say, getting up from the table, “I’ll go grab my things and we can head out. Thanks for making me breakfast.”
I take my dishes to the sink where Justin is still standing, and before I can rinse them off, he takes them from me and sets them down. We’re standing close and our eyes meet. He leans in and brushes his lips against mine, kissing me gently, tentatively. But it’s not enough for me, and I rise on the balls of my feet for more. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer to him as the force of his lips part mine. Maybe I’m going to get round two after all. Feeling optimistic, I move my hands toward the waistband on his pants and begin to untuck his shirt. Apparently that was the wrong move because his kisses ease up and he takes my hands in his.
“Believe me, I want to,” he says, his eyes focusing on my lips. “But I really need to get going.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I know. I have things to do this morning too, but I thought that maybe if we were quick…”
He flashes a grin. “The next time we’re together, I want to take my time with you.”
I give him a peck on the lips. “Next time? Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” And with that statement, I leave the kitchen and pick up my clothes from his bedroom floor. I scan his bedroom to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind and meet Justin by the door where he’s waiting for me.
It doesn’t take us long to get to my house, and just as I’m getting ready to get out, he puts a hand on my arm. “I’m going to need your number. I’m not going to let this be the last I see of you,” he says.
I rattle off my number to him as he punches it into his phone. “Text me sometime. Maybe I’ll answer,” I say, knowing full well I’m answering the moment he texts me. A hot doctor who owns his own home and is handy around the house? Yes, please!
He gives me one last searing kiss, just to make sure I don’t forget about him. “I’ll text you soon,” he says as I step out of his car.
Standing on the sidewalk, I lean in and meet his gaze. “Thanks for the clothes. I’m keeping them.”