Page 15 of For Pleasure Or Worse

14 months ago

My bedroom was a disaster.Which wasn’t saying much, because my apartment was always kind of a disaster. It was an organized mess. I knew where everything was, but to someone else it might look like I was a hoarder who wore the same socks over and over again because I couldn't tell which laundry was clean or dirty. Some nights I slept under unfolded clothes, and other nights I moved said unfolded clothes to what I liked to call "the chair" in the corner of the bedroom. “The chair” also doubled as my sleep paralysis demon whenever I dozed off for an afternoon nap.

Up until a few days ago the mess wasn't an issue. There was no one coming upstairs into my apartment to see it. My parents never stopped by because they never left Palm Park unless for an extravagant vacation, and my sisters couldn't be arsed to meet me out for a drink, let alone have a sleepover. Now, the very real potential of a very real man, with cute little dimples and shiny brown hair, who filled out a shirt like a mannequin and smelled like what a candle company would call “driftwood”, was minutes away from my door.

This first date sent me into full-on crisis mode earlier in the day. I spent half of it ripping apart my closet and pairing skirts with tops and shoes with belts, and then decided to hell with it and ran to the outlets to pick out something completely new to wear. I had no idea where we were going; he hadn’t even hinted when I asked. All Mateo said was he'd pick me up at seven.

I posed in the standing mirror, opting to keep it safe in trendy sneakers and my favorite jeans, a lilac figure-hugging tank and layered gold jewelry from my ears to my fingers. The Neighbourhood played while I fluffed the roots of my hair, applied a clear glossy lip balm, and checked the time on my phone.

Any minute.

I fought the urge to tidy up a bit, only closing a few drawers and kicking a lonely heel under the bed. Because I was not going to sleep with him. Not tonight. I didn't want to fuck this up. I didn't want him to think that was all I was good for, or that he didn't need to try with me, or that he could add me to his roster because a girl who gave it up so easily couldn’t possibly bethe one. He was an older guy, more experienced; the last thing I wanted was to not be taken seriously.

My phone lit up with a call. Mateo didn't text; the straightforward confidence was so disarming it made my stomach flip.

"Hello?"

"Ready for me?"

Fuck.

"Mm-hmm," I said sheepishly.

"Good, I was getting bored of doing circles around the block so I didn't freak you out by showing up too early."

My heart tripped over itself. I moved toward the window and opened the curtain. A black pickup truck was sitting at the curbbelow and I could see Mateo through the windshield with his phone to his ear, one hand gripping the steering wheel.

“I'll be right down."

The call disconnected and I spun on my heel, taking one long look around the bedroom with my hands on my hips before I shoved every last thing I owned into the closet.

Just in case.

Mateo was waiting for me on the curb, very cool in dark-black jeans, a Henley, and a sandy corduroy jacket on top. I noticed the Catholic cross chain he wore around his neck when we first met. I wasn't religious, my family never went to church, but they liked to preach about the values it instilled anyway. Like they were too busy to visit God at home, but they’d send a Christmas card.

Mateo pulled me in for a hug immediately, one of those half hugs that felt professional instead of intimate, and dropped a coy greeting kiss on my cheek that was more skin than lips. He held me out by my hand at arm’s length so he could freely let his eyes roam down my body.

“All right, give it a spin." He twirled me slowly and I ducked under our outstretched arms, flattered and giggly. I came to a stop facing him and he ran a hand down his face and grinned. "God, you are something."

My cheeks flamed and I instinctively looked to the concrete, kicking at the loose black mulch windswept onto the sidewalk.

"Really, Natalia. You're making me nervous again."

"I doubt I'm making you nervous if you're telling me I'm making you nervous." Mateo opened his passenger door and helped me up into the dark interior of the cab.

"I become brutally honest when I'm nervous. It just flows out of me like there's no filter there. You'll see. I've already done it twice tonight."

"I think it's charming," I said.

Mateo grinned and walked around the car. The engine purred and the mumblings of a song on the radio played as he stepped up on his side and closed us in. He was so much bigger beside me in such a confined space, so broad in the driver’s seat, his smell concentrated. It took everything in me not to let my eyes flutter shut and breathe him in.

Instead of putting the truck in drive he turned toward me and my chest tightened.

"How was your day?"

I blinked. "My day?"

A corner of his lips parted into a sideways, amused smile. "Well, I already know how mine went."

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