Page 45 of The Little Black Book

My stomach turns as I send the text. I don’t want to go backwards. I want to forge a new path with Zoey by my side and in my bed. But I can force her to feel what I’m feeling. I have to accept her choice.

Tapping the screen, I open my little black book app. I scroll through the list of women, but can’t seem to drum up any interest in any of them. Zoey’s ruined me. I don’t want anyone but her.

Closing the app, I press my thumb to the icon and hold it. A short menu pops up, and I delete the app. I’m done with it.

I might not be able to be with Zoey the way I want to, but I’m sure as hell not going to go on more dates with her sitting there watching me. Not when the only person I really want to be with is her.

Thinking back, I realize it’s been that way since the beginning of this whole charade. Sure, I told myself I was making a decent effort with my dates, but my attention was always focused on Zoey. I was hyper-aware of her nearness, and just wanted the dates to end so I could hang out with her.

I like her. I always have. And that “like” grew into something more, even before last night. And after getting a taste of her, I know no one else will do.

I drop my phone on the night stand and stretch out, curling an arm beneath my head. Zoey might think we can go back to being just friends, but I didn’t imagine her response to me last night. She’ll want that again, just as I do.

I’m going to have to be patient, but I know, eventually, she’ll realize how good we are together. That if we stop fighting the attraction, we could have something really special.

Something perfect.

* * *

It’s beena few days since my night with Zoey, and though we’ve texted back and forth a few times, neither of us has mentioned the sex or brought up the fact that I haven’t scheduled another date. It’s like we’re stuck in this holding pattern, both of us afraid to shatter the bubble of normalcy we’ve built around us.

Tonight, we’re atThe Red Scorpion,a bar the girls like to frequent, with Jared, Sophie, Ava, and Zeke. I’ve been nursing the same beer for the last hour, Jared ordered his usual club soda––he doesn’t drink, much––and Zeke has been sipping on water since he offered to be a designated driver.

The girls, however, have been inhaling cocktails like it’s their job and they’re gunning for a big promotion. Sophie straddled Jared’s lap a few minutes ago and has her mouth attached to his neck. Ava holds her liquor a little better, and has been verbally sparring with Zeke for the last half hour.

And Zoey? Zoey’s been quieter than usual, her mouth fully occupied by the straw sticking out of her quickly disappearing mojito. How many is that? Three? Four? I don’t know for sure, but the pink tinge on her cheeks tells me she’s feeling the effects.

I stand and excuse myself before heading to the bathroom. I silently recite a mental pep talk while using the urinal, telling myself I can make it through this night. I can act normal and have a good time, just like I always do when hanging out with my friends.

After washing my hands, I dry them on a wad of paper towels. Tossing them into the trash can, I walk out of the bathroom––and find Zoey waiting for me in the dim hall. I open my mouth to ask if she’s okay, but nothing comes out save for a gust of breath as her small body slams into mine.

Her hands dive into my hair, pulling my face down as she lifts her own and presses her mouth to mine. Sweet relief courses through me, and my arms circle around her, jerking her even closer as our tongues dance and swirl around each other.

Then I taste the booze, and my brain wakes up.

Breaking off the kiss, I push her back, my heavy breaths echoing off the walls around us. Her crestfallen expression nearly breaks me, but I manage to hold strong. I’m not doing this. Not while she’s drunk. If and when we kiss again, I want it to be with the knowledge that she’s in complete control of her actions and impulses.

“I’m…sorry,” she whispers, and the cracked, rusty sound of it makes my chest hurt.

“Don’t be,” I say gently, then wrap an arm around her waist. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

She allows me to lead her back out to our friends and doesn’t argue when I pluck her bag from the backrest of her chair.

“I’m going to take Zoey home now,” I announce to the table.

Sophie stops kissing Jared to look up at me and nod. “Call me tomorrow, Zo.”

“I can take her,” Zeke offers, and I shake my head.

“I don’t mind. Can you make sure Ava gets home?”

He looks from me to Ava, who shrugs noncommittally. Then he looks back at me and nods. Everyone says their goodbyes to Zoey and me, and I lead her from the bar. She seems pretty solid on her feet, but I can tell by the way she’s leaning into me that the alcohol coursing through her system is definitely affecting her.

She doesn’t speak during the drive to her place, nor does she utter a word as I give her a hand to help her from my car and lead her to her apartment door. She fumbles around in her bag for a moment, then sighs before handing it over to me. Digging through the contents, I find her keys and unlock her door.

She walks in, leaving me to follow, and heads straight for her bedroom. She tries to unfasten her jeans, but her hands don’t seem to be working correctly.

“I can’t sleep in these,” she mumbles, speaking for the first time since we left the bar. “I need your help.”

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