Page 70 of Take A Number
I pause at the foot of her bed, watching her for a moment as she sleeps. She looks so peaceful. And innocent. She looks young and trouble-free. She doesn’t deserve my mind-fuck thoughts right now.
I quietly creep out of her bedroom and retrieve my clothes off the floor. It’s a trail all the way to the kitchen, but when I’m dressed, I know I can’t leave without saying something. I need to come up with an excuse.
I search through the kitchen drawers and find a yellow legal pad. When I flip one page over, a familiar list comes into sight:
NO PDA
FRIENDSHIP HOLD
NO STARING
NO BOSSING
NO BUSINESS TALK
NO KISSING
My how things have changed.
We started off so innocently. Now, we’re having sex, holding hands every which way, and sleeping over. And hell, I never stopped the staring thing. Dammit, this is messy.
I scrawl a note, telling Norah I had a tux fitting this morning, and I’ll call her later. As I drive back to my place, my mind races with thoughts. Thoughts about Norah and me together and if this is something I could see doing beyond this fake situation. Beyond Kate’s wedding. The idea makes me highly uncomfortable but the idea of all of this being over in less than a week isn’t much better.
There was a reason I’d been dating women like Lala. They were easily dispensable. They didn’t have anything I was interested in long-term, so when it was over, I literally never thought about them again.
But Norah…she’s…the perfect woman. Mature, natural, sweet-natured, motivated, genuine. A little anal-retentive and naïve, but that’s the icing on top. Plus, she’s the best sex I’ve ever had by a long shot. She’s too good for me. There’s a reason I don’t date women like Norah.
As I pull into my garage, my phone rings in the passenger seat beside me, and I see it’s my mother calling. I haven’t talked to her in a few weeks, so I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“You’re up early,” my mom’s voice croaks through the phone line. “I was just going to leave you a message.”
“Yeah…I…couldn’t sleep,” I murmur, running a hand through my hair.
“Well, it’s nice to hear your voice. How are you?” she asks, and I hear the flick of her cigarette lighter in the background.
“I’m good…are you on your way to work?”
“Yep…gas stations do not close on Sundays no matter how badly I want them to.”
“I suppose not.”
She takes a long drag and asks, “How’s that little girlfriend I see you posting pictures of all over the internet?”
“It was one picture, Mom.”
“Whatever…she’s your girlfriend, though, right?”
“Yes.”
She huffs a knowing tone. “You must be hiding her from me.”
“What?” I snap, irritation prickling my scalp. “I’m not hiding her from you. Why would you say that?”
“Because I’ve never met a single one of your girlfriends.”
“That’s because I never have any,” I reply flatly. The line goes quiet, and I can hear her sniffle. “Mom? What is it?”
She clears her throat. “Nothing…I just…”
