26. A Perfect Night
A Perfect Night
TALIA
Iwas nervous about tonight’s date.
First off, this is my first real date ever. Or is it?
Macklin insisted that he wanted to take me on a “real date,” so it must be. But is it possible to go on a real date with your fake boyfriend?
The trouble is that the line between real and fake is getting more and more blurred. At least for me.
I know I was the one who asked Macklin to coach me, but every time he kisses me and touches me, I fall for him a little more.
What happened before at the library has been living rent free in my mind.
I’ve replayed it over and over again, going through the motions in class and at work.
I’ve been so distracted that I’m surprised I made it to our date in one piece.
Luckily, I have the best friend in the world. Sam noticed my state of mind and took the reins, helping me get first date ready. She helped me choose the perfect outfit, but she didn’t stop there.
My BFF made sure I got a Brazilian wax, but not on the same day as the date so I wouldn’t be sore. She took me out shopping for the perfect lingerie so I would feel confident and sexy, but comfortable at the same time.
I feel guilty that she doesn’t know that Macklin isn’t my real boyfriend. But he and I agreed to keep it a secret from everyone. Tucker is the only one who knows, and that was necessary to keep him from killing Macklin.
When Macklin comes to pick me up at the Zeta House, I look and feel like a million bucks.
As I climb into my boyfriend’s car, I force myself not to think about what’s going to happen at the end of this date.
There is nothing I want more than to go all the way with Macklin, but I’d be lying if I said that I’m not worried that it’s going to hurt or be awkward.
There’s also the considerable dent getting ready for tonight put in my already slim bank account.
But once he gets into the driver's seat and sets those dark blue eyes on me, I forget how coherent thought even works.
It’s a blessing in disguise.
“You look beautiful.” He murmurs, taking my hand to bring my knuckles to his lips.
“You look hot too.”
Part of my nerves melt away under Macklin’s intense blue gaze.
The craziest thing about this entire deal with him is that being with him is exciting and easy at the same time. He’s everything I had imagined when we hung out just in a group setting and more.
Tonight he pulls all the stops, making my first date ever so good that it’ll be very hard for anyone to ever top this.
He made reservations at a new Italian restaurant that opened in the summer and is supposed to be Morelli’s biggest competitor.
The ambience is understated and chic at the same time with an intimate vibe that’s perfect for a date.
Macklin’s conversation is intelligent and funny. He doesn’t talk about hockey at all. But my favorite thing about this date version of him is how he finds a million little ways to touch me.
From holding my hand, to tucking my hair behind my ear, to brushing his lips over mine.
I feel like I have his attention, and the feeling is exhilarating and endearing at the same time.
After dinner, he drives toward the marina and stops at the entrance of the Country Club, giving his car keys to the valet and running to open my car door for me.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as he guides me toward the club’s main bar.
“Since neither of us drank any alcohol with dinner, I thought we could have something nice here?”
When Macklin didn’t order an alcoholic beverage at dinner, I assumed he was being cautious because he’s driving. Tomorrow is also the first official game of the season, and I understand if he’s watching his alcohol intake.
“I didn’t want to overdo it,” he smiles, confirming my assumption. “But one drink can’t hurt, right?”
I order a gin martini with a twist when the server comes to take our order, and Macklin follows my lead.
“Your drink order is surprising.” He observes once we’re alone at our table.
“Why is that?”
He chooses his words carefully. “I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but most girls I’ve been around would go for a fruity, sickly sweet concoction. Or a skinny margarita.”
I don’t have to ask who orders skinny drinks.
“I’m usually the one serving cocktails to others.
But when I get the chance to have a nice drink I didn’t have to make and with top shelf liquor, I want to make the most of it.
My other choice would have been Champagne, but sometimes it gives me a headache and I didn’t want to risk it tonight. ”
We both know what’s going to happen at the end of the night. But there’s no sign that Macklin catches the obvious implication in my words.
We enjoy our drinks; the conversation is light and entertaining; the vibe between us is warm and flirty.
Once our glasses are empty, Macklin takes my hand in his, like he’s done countless times tonight. “I would ask you if you want another drink, but…”
We are on the same page. “I’m ok, thanks.” I do my best to keep my voice steady. I don’t want him to know that the butterflies in my stomach are fluttering their wings like they’re on crack right now.
He rises from his chair and before I can move, he comes to move mine back, helping me back to my feet.
As we leave the country club bar holding hands, those butterflies multiply with every passing second.
Rather than guiding me back to the exit, Macklin heads in the opposite direction.
I look at him when he stops by one of the elevators in the lobby. “We aren’t going back to campus?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. You want to spend the night together, right? I mean, if you’ve changed your mind, it’s ok. We can stay in the room anyway, or if you don’t want to do that, I can take you home.”
“No,” I put all my conviction in my voice. “I want to spend tonight with you, Macklin. I just thought we’d go back to your room at the Gamma House.”
The elevator doors open right then, and he guides me inside, taking a key card out of his blazer’s pocket and choosing the top floor.
“The house is always crowded and noisy. Especially the night before a game, when everyone is home. I wanted to make sure no one would knock on my door or disturb us.”
I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness. My room wasn’t an option either. I didn’t want to bump into Gen tonight, and I’m sure neither did Macklin.
He doesn’t let go of my hand the entire elevator ride, nor as we walk down the hallway, our feet sinking into the club’s luxurious carpet.
“After you.” He murmurs as he unlocks the door to our room.
“This isn’t a room.” It’s impossible to hide the surprise in my voice. “Macklin, you didn’t have to book a suite.”
He pulls me closer. “I just wanted everything to be perfect tonight.”
It is perfect because it’s you.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back down. I have to remember that this is part of our deal. I’m grateful to him though for putting so much effort into everything. Especially tonight.
I’m almost twenty-two and at this point, I’ve been feeling like my v-card is embarrassing more than anything else. I haven’t been thinking about my first time with the same romantic notion of my teenage years.
If anything, I’ve been wanting to get this over with as soon and as discreetly as possible.
But now that it’s about to happen, I’m glad that it’s with him. And that he’s gone through all this trouble to make it special. To make me feel special.
We take a few moments to walk around the opulent suite. I swear someone could live here.
There’s a gorgeous living room with a full bar and a huge flat screen TV. A well-appointed office and meeting room is next to a bathroom that’s bigger than my parents’ new three-bedroom apartment.
The suite has an elegant but cozy bedroom with a California king bed taking up most of one wall. The color palette is cream and silver with a few pastel accents here and there.
The bedroom has an en-suite bathroom with a tub big enough for four people.
“The bathrooms are my favorite part.” I admit, walking back into the bedroom. “I know it’s weird, but I’ve always been obsessed with a nice bathroom.”
Macklin chuckles. “I hope this is to your satisfaction?”
I stop one mere step away from him, and he closes the distance between us, taking my hand and pulling me closer.
“Everything is perfect. Thank you, Macklin.”
He brushes his lips to mine as he’s done many times tonight. But rather than keeping the contact brief and light, this time he presses his lips to mine with more force.
I immediately open for him and when his tongue slips into my mouth and touches mine, it’s exactly like the first time he kissed me. Everything else fades away.
Our kiss gets deeper with every passing second. My fingers tangle with the slight waves on top of his head, where his hair is a little longer.
He presses me against his solid, warm body, holding me closer with his arms wrapped around my waist.
When I tug at the first button of his shirt, Macklin helps me. We work together until he’s gloriously shirtless. I’ll never get tired of the perfection of his washboard abs and defined pecs.
The next garment to hit the thick carpet of the luxury suite is my dress. Like with his shirt, we work together and he lowers the zipper in the back with surprisingly deft fingers.
His slacks are next, and when I look at him, I get confirmation of what I already felt against my lower stomach. He’s hard in his navy boxer briefs.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the utter perfection of his body.
My eyes skim over his trim waist, following that V carved into his hips.
My bra is next, joining the rest of our clothes on the floor.
Macklin made no mystery that he finds me attractive when he saw me naked. I revel in that certainty.
I’ve always felt comfortable in my skin until I tried out for the Shooting Stars. I had never been under such intense physical scrutiny, and being rejected for not meeting their beauty standards has been fucking up with my confidence ever since.