16. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
brADY
I urge Gretchen to take the phone call.
Not that I want her to, mind you. It’s just – I know it’ll crawl inside of her head, and she strikes me as the type of woman who won’t be able to relax knowing there’s something hanging over her.
And I want her to be totally relaxed when we do what it seems like we were just about to start doing.
“Hello?” she says, mouthing I’m sorry to me, a pained look on her face.
I shake my head to indicate she’s got nothing to be sorry for. I pick her tank top up off the floor and hand it to her. “Uh huh. Well, yeah, that’s why I called,” she says, sliding the shirt over her head with the phone still in her hand.
I excuse myself to use her bathroom. This is probably for the best , I decide.
I’m so wound up, there’s no way I could have lasted for her anyway.
I splash cold water on my face as my erection subsides, noticing the fluffy white bathrobe she wore that first time she barged into Luis’ apartment hanging on the hook behind the door.
The room smells like peaches from the hand soap, and she’s got a lineup of hair and skin products on a shelf above the toilet.
There’s a box sign on the wall that reads True beauty can’t be found in the mirror.
It’ s sweet. She’s sweet, with her aspirations to teach children and the way she clearly cares about other people.
Such a far cry from some of the girls I’ve dated in the past.
This one is different, I realize.
Suddenly, as much as I want to devour her, I also want to help her through this issue and show her that I’m not just some asshole whose sole objective is to get her into bed.
Besides, maybe if we hold off a little longer, it will mean more when we finally go there.
I exit the bathroom. She’s still on the phone with Cherry, and I don’t want to sit here listening in on their conversation. I grab the ice cream bowls off the table, place them in the sink, and leave a note on the magnetic whiteboard on her fridge.
Thank you for a fun nightcap , I write. I’ll see you tomorrow at 10 for our beach date . Sweet dreams . I draw a heart, even though that seems… well, not exactly macho.
I don’t care.
I like her.
She pouts as I point to the door, shaking her head in a silent request for me to stay. She’s perched on the arm of the sofa, so I walk over, plant my lips lightly on her forehead, and whisper, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”