3. Izzy #2
I roll my eyes at him, but I’m cut off from a snappy retort when he grabs a hold of the seat of my chair and drags me towards him, not stopping until we’re just inches apart.
I’m not even able to start freaking out about our closeness yet, since I’m still in awe of the arm strength that must’ve taken.
He lets go of my seat and pulls his phone out.
He’s facing the bar, but since I'm still turned towards him, my knees are now pressed into the outside of his thigh.
“What did you say it was called?”
I see he’s pulled up Google and is ready to search.
I swallow, trying to be cool about this nearness. “It’s Polly Pocket . And what are you doing?”
He turns his head to look at me, his face closer to mine than it’s ever been. “I’m very curious to see this tiny-little-room toy and discover why you loved it so much.”
I try to hold back my smile. “You better not make fun of me, Mr. Rollerblades.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Polly.”
He types into his search bar, and I lean in to see what it pulls up. The first couple links look a little funny.
“Wait, that’s not right.” I reach out and put a hand on Zach’s arm. “Do they still make them? No way!”
“Looks like, yes- way.” Zach hands me his phone. As I start to scroll through, he puts his arm around the back of my chair.
Looking at the new models, I scrunch my face up. “This is blasphemy!”
Zach barks out a laugh, startling me out of my disgust.
“Feeling a little protective of your dolls?”
I lightly elbow him in the side, and I’m momentarily distracted by the hardness that my elbow encountered. Who has core muscles like that? I barely hear myself mumble, “They aren’t dolls.”
“Sure they aren’t.”
“I’ll show you the ones of my generation. Back when toys were real, and you could choke on them. Survival of the fittest type of stuff.” I look over at Zach and shake his phone a little. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.”
His arm still on the back of my chair, he leans back in his seat. I click through a few options before I feel his fingers playing with the ends of my hair. It’s a small movement, but I have to hold back the groan that wants to escape my throat. It feels glorious.
“Any chance you have the Etsy app on your phone?” I ask.
“No chance at all, since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I shrug. “I figured as much, but it was worth the ask. Who knows, maybe you had a side job selling crocheted socks or something.”
“I feel like you’re talking in code right now.” Zach tugs gently on my hair. “Speak English woman.”
“Crafting, Zach. I’m talking about crafting. Aha! I found some of the originals for sale on eBay. ”
I lean back just as Zach leans in, causing our bodies to press together. Instantly, I move to retreat, thinking that I’ve bumped into him by accident. But Zach releases my hair and slides his arm around my shoulder. Holding me in place.
“Show me.”
His voice is a rough whisper in my ear. I feel it everywhere .
My heartbeat increases and my breath feels like it’s coming out in pants.
I go to hand the phone back to Zach, but he just wraps his hand around mine, so we are both holding the phone.
I can feel his chest expand against my shoulder and I wonder if he just sniffed my hair.
The thought of it sends tingles right to my center.
And now I feel like a pervert, since I can feel myself getting wet while having a conversation about Polly Pocket.
Focusing back on the phone, I click on some pictures and zoom them in to show Zach the details.
He asks some questions, and as I answer I keep scrolling through until I find some examples of ones that I’d actually owned.
The whole thing is silly, and dorky, and I’m finally relaxing.
Not wanting to make the stroll down Memory Lane all about me, I ask if he remembers the brand of his rollerblades.
He does. And - thanks to the wonders of internet selling - we find a pair for sale that are from the 90’s, identical to the ones he owned.
He makes me save the link to his phone, saying that he might have to buy them later.
I don’t know how long we have been pressed together on these stools, laughing at old stories, but I feel completely comfortable with Zach.
He’s not what I would call talkative, but he’s been open, and the conversation has been constant.
He’s easy to be with, and I find myself a little disappointed that he’s only here visiting.
That thought confirms that I don’t want to miss my chance with him. I want Zach to be my one-night stand.
“Would you two like another round of drinks?” the bartender asks, appearing before us .
Zach looks to me for an answer, and - before I can lose my nerve - I respond. “No, thank you.”
The bartender nods and places our tab down. Zach hands over cash before I can even offer to pay.
Turning to me, I can see the question in his eye. I turned down a second drink. Does that mean I’m done for the night, or does it mean I want to continue this elsewhere?
I feel the blush on my cheeks before I even open my mouth. “So, are you staying at this hotel?”
Instead of smiling, like I thought he might, I watch Zach’s jaw clench. “I am.”
I can’t think of the right way to ask him to bring me upstairs. I thought asking him about staying here would be enough of a lead in. Ugh, I feel so foolish.
I lower my gaze.
Zach’s hand reaches out, and - with the tips of his fingers - he tilts my head back up to look at him. “Sugar, would you like to see my room?”
I nod.
“Good girl.”
Before he stands, he leans in and places a light kiss on my cheek. The turtledove in my chest tries to climb its way up my throat.
Offering me his hand, Zach helps me off the barstool. I’m glad I excused myself to use the restroom during our eBay searches, because I am such a jumbled mess of nervous and excited right now that I’d definitely panic and sneak out a bathroom window if we stopped.
I want this. I want him. I want to feel good.
I want to have sex. But I’m still freaking out.
I’m confident that he finds me attractive.
But what happens when he realizes that I have no idea what I’m doing?
I mean, I’ve had sex before, but it’s been a long time.
Like a really, really long time. And the sex I had was fine, I think, but it was always the same.
I don’t know how to do any of the exciting stuff.
The ding of the elevator brings me back into the moment, and Zach looks like he’s been watching my reflection in the polished silver doors. When they open, I’m thankful that the interior of the elevator isn’t lined with mirrors.
As the doors shut, Zach tugs on my hand, bringing my attention up to him. “Izzy, if you’re having second thoughts, we don’t have to do this. We can go back to the bar.”
His words leave me equal parts embarrassed and relieved. I’m not going to back out, but he’s clearly a good guy since he’s offering me an out.
“No, please. I want to. I’m just not good at this part.”
Zach eyes search me for the truth. “Which part?”
I let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Everything that comes next.”
Zach makes a very obvious show of looking me up and down. “Sugar, I find that very hard to believe. But - even if you think that’s true, you have nothing to worry about. Because I’m very good at this next part.” He smirks.
I lean towards him, wanting to press my lips to his. And that’s when the elevator doors ding open.
With my hand in his, Zach leads me to his room all the way down at the end of the hall.
I’m thankful that at least there aren’t neighbors on both sides that might hear us.
I’ve never been loud during sex before, but I have a suspicious feeling that sex with Zach is going to be like nothing I’ve ever experienced.