Page 53 of False Start

She gives me a wry smile.

"What am I? A barbarian?Of courseI have champagne. I keep it on hand for exactly such occasions."

Mom does the same thing,I think as I watch her stand on tippy toes to get two flutes from above the fridge. I swallow a lump in my throat and immediately pump the brakes on that treacherous line of thought.

Denise comes back with two glasses full of the bubbly liquid. I raise mine.

"To the next step," I rasp, still a little choked up.

We clink our glasses together, and I kiss the sense out of her. I kiss her with everything I feel but can't say. When we break apart, she's panting.

"Damn! If I'd known being your girlfriend came with kisses like that, I would've volunteered sooner."

I kiss her again, softly this time, and she melts against me. We lose ourselves in one another, sharing secrets and whispering promises that I hope survive the light of day. With every moan, every whimper, my feelings for her become clearer.

But I just got her to admit she's my girlfriend. She needs time to adjust. Time to see I want her, not some cookie cutter version of her. My feelings will still be here when she's ready.

Chapter twenty-two

Denise

Thingshavechanged.SinceHalloween, I use a key instead of my shoulder to get into my apartment building. I can order an extra large pizza with wings without feeling like a glutton because I've got someone to share them with. And I snuggle with a hot, powerful body almost every night.

I have aboyfriend.

Honestly, I should have done thisyearsago. If I have a tough day at work, Cory's here with wine ready to give me a foot rub. If I'm up against a deadline, he'll send delivery to make sure I remember to eat. He even picked up tampons and chocolate cake the last time the crimson wave hit. Things have definitely changed…for the better.

Having someone to rely on is both comforting and terrifying. Questions are constantly running in the back of my mind like a browser with too many tabs open.What if I get used to this kind of treatment? Can I still call myself a feminist if I let him help with all the chores I hate? Will he ever let me wear his Air Jordan Colette's? What will happen when he inevitably leaves?

But what if he stays?,my heart pleads, doing her best to break through years of cynicism and disappointment. Since Halloween, my heart has been a lot more outspoken. Sheloveswhen Cory's around, sending warmth to the space behind my sternum until I feel like I'm glowing. She squeezes painfully whenever he leaves. And when she sees him be sweet with Clawdette, or support me during a difficult moment in my workshop, she beats so fast it feels like palpitations. As great as things have been, I'm afraid to look into what all that means. Surely it's not something as foolish as…love.

I turn the blender on high to clear my thoughts and pour his green goddess smoothie into one of the to-go cups I picked up for him last week. I strongly prefer the sandwiches at Frankie's to this chlorophyll concoction, but they don't fit into his rigid meal plan. Thank God we don'tbothhave to eat like Olympians. I'd go crazy.

Cory comes into the living room decked out in Wall Street chic, hair still damp from the shower. He comes around the counter to plant a kiss on my neck and gestures to the to-go cup.

"What's this?"

"This is your green goddess smoothie. I got tired of hearing you whine aboutmacros, so I peaked in your fridge the last time I was over and bought the ingredients to make your precious green smoothie here."

Cory freezes, the look on his face unreadable before he pulls me into a tight hug. I let out a startled yelp.

"Thanks, baby. You didn't have to do this," he says. His harsh breaths tickle my ear.

I pat his back awkwardly, a bit overwhelmed by this show of emotion.

"It was no big deal. Really. I just thought it'd help with mornings when you have to rush."

He squeezes me once more, kisses my cheek, then finally releases me.

"Itisa big deal. This is, like,expert levelgirlfriend behavior right here." He makes a show of taking a sip of his smoothie, humming in appreciation. Then he twirls me around the kitchen until I can't help but giggle.

"You've definitely earned a treat."

"Oh, really?" I ask, still giggling. "What kind of treat?"

"Hmm." He taps his chin. "I'm still ironing out all the details, but my tongue and your pussy are definitely involved." He winks, and I pinch his butt for being such a tease.

As has become the norm when he stays over, I walk him downstairs to kiss him goodbye. I know it's over the top, bordering on ridiculous; we're going to see each other again in ten hours, after all. But I can't bring myself to be embarrassed. In fact, it's become my favorite way to start the day.

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