He texts back:
I like surprises. ;)
We agree I’ll pick him up at 6:00 pm and then I call Lexi. If I’m ever going to move on in my life, I have to put myself out there. I can’t be afraid to be with a man or around one for that matter. I can’t keep being afraid to be a single woman. I’ll love and miss Blake every day for the rest of my life, but I know, as terrible as it sounds, I don’t want to be lonely for the rest of my days. And I know deep down Blake wouldn’t want that either.
The phone rings and Lexi answers, “Yes, Demi. It’s okay.”
“What?” I respond.
“To give him my number.”
“Who?”
“Dusty,” she says, with a yawn.
My brows rise in surprise. “Umm, hate to burst your bubble there Ms. Modesty, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
“It’s not?”
“No, but I admire your ego,” I laugh.
“He likes me,” she mumbles dismissively. “He just hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“Yeah. Him turning you down for dinner screamed he was jonesing for you.”
“Wow,” she huffs. “You’re kind of being a bitch today.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Sorry. It’s been a rough couple of days. But listen. I need your help.”
“You do?” she asks, shock evident in her tone.
“I have a date with Vick tonight, and I want to look . . . good.”
“Define good.”
“Like . . . good, Lexi. I want to look pretty,” I snap.
“Like give him an instant hard-on look good or like instant chub look good?”
“Is there really a difference?”
“Of course there is,” she exclaims like I’m an imbecile.
“Lexi,” I groan.
“Okay, instant chub it is. Let’s take things slow. No need to rush these things. I’ll be there at four.”
“Thanks, Lex,” I grumble.
We hang up, and I set the alarm on my phone to wake me in a few hours. I need my beauty sleep after the long night I had. Taking a deep breath, I try to relax. I’d hoped making this plan, putting out the vibes of trying to be a normal woman, would make me feel better, but as my subconscious lurks and begins to drag me into the depths of sleep, I know no matter how much I laugh with Vick tonight, no matter how many time he makes me feel beautiful and special, all I’ll think about all night is how it felt to kiss Connor Stevens.
“God, I’m good,” Lexi praises herself. And egotistical or not, I have to give her credit. I look damn good. The place I’m taking Vick is outside, and a short dress or revealing top wouldn’t have worked. I’m wearing a knee-length flowy skirt that will allow me to sit on the ground if need be, and a white blouse that hangs off my shoulder. Lexi tied my hair up in a ponytail adding that little bump on the crown and my makeup is flawless.
“I must say, you really are,” I agree. “Thank you, for once again, coming to help me.”
“This help isn’t free,” she warns. “I’ll accept payment in the form of explicit details about the first time you two bump uglies.”
I shake my head. “You are so . . . wrong.”
“I’m kidding,” she pauses, “I mean I want to know, but maybe only minor explicit details.”
“I’m not having sex with him tonight.”
She looks away and shrugs. “What happened with Connor last night?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, heat flushing my face. Does she know something? That’s impossible. There’s no way.
“You two were mighty cozy on the dance floor.”
“Nothing happened, Lexi,” I grumble as I toss the contents of my purse into another one that matches my outfit.
“I hope . . .” she pauses, “I hope you’re not trying to rush things with Vick in an attempt to maybe . . . I don’t know . . . stop feelings you might be having for Connor.”
Her words hit me hard because maybe that is what I’m doing, but I deny it anyway. “That’s not what I’m doing,” I assure her. “I really like Vick.”
“Whatever you say,” she huffs, pointing a not so convinced look my way. Heading toward my doorway, she calls over her shoulder, “I’ll be calling in the morning for those explicit details.”
“Wow,” he seems stunned as we stare out over the Red Rocks Amphitheatre. I was worried it might be pretty busy, but we got lucky; I only see a few other people milling about.
“I know. It’s pretty cool,” I add. “You like it?”
His brows rise. “Like it? It’s beautiful.”
“Good.” I smile and take his free hand that isn’t holding the cooler I packed. “I thought maybe you should see a bit of this great state. I point and tell him, “The amphitheatre’s rocks are named; “Creation Rock” on the north, “Ship Rock” on the south, and “Stage Rock” to the east.”
“You’ve got this place memorized, eh?”
I shrug. “It was one of the only places I remember coming with my father when he was still around. My mother would pack a picnic, and we’d all spend the day out here.”
He nods in understanding, and I realize I might have overshared with the dad thing, so I move on. “It’s been called The Garden of Angels, The Garden of Titans, and finally . . . Red Rocks.” I stick my tongue out, and Vick laughs.
“I guess Red Rocks is your least favorite?”
“Come on, Red Rocks versus The Garden of Titans?”
“I have to say I agree. Red Rocks doesn’t quite have the fierceness of The Garden of Titans. So where to?” He holds up the small cooler and shakes it gently. We take a seat at the top near the eastern wall and catch some shade. As I dole out the sandwiches and pasta salad I’ve made, Vick talks about how he’d like to come back and paint Red Rocks soon. After we finish eating, we explore, hand in hand, and share silly little tidbits about ourselves and before I know it, the sun has set, and the sky is lit with stars. We lie on the hood of my car and stare up, his hand holding mine between us. I’m laughing at a joke he’s just told me when I realize he’s silently staring at me.
When my gaze meets his, my body shakes as my laughter ebbs, and he squeezes my hand. He rolls toward me and kisses me, and I do my best to kiss him with the same gusto, but I’m failing miserably. Undeterred, his free hand slides down my arm slowly as we make out until it’s on my thigh seemingly sliding up. I don’t know where he intended his hand to go, but I jerk up and brush it away. What is wrong with me?
He sits up with me. “I’m . . . sorry. Did I do something wrong?”
I have no idea. I mean, really. He touched my thigh. Should it be that big of a deal? But he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “You like me don’t you?” he asks, his voice steady.
“No, not at all,” I try to joke, hoping to ebb the awkwardness, but it only earns me a slight smile. “Of course, I like you,” I say, seriously.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve . . . felt like this,” he admits, his gaze moving back to the sky. My heart hammers in my chest. Felt like what? I mean, I really like Vick, but is he talking about love already? No. He couldn’t be.
“I just want to make sure I’m not the guy you’re passing time with.”
Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that, and I have to blink a few times to absorb what he just said. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me, Vick,” I finally manage.
“I’m asking are we dating or is this more like . . . something casual?”
“Does sex determine that answer?” I pipe back.
“Well, I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a total asshole, because I’m not expecting it at any point, but yes. At some point, if we’re dating, I hope we can be . . . intimate together.”
I try to keep my features unreadable. He’s right, if we were to date for a certain amount of time, eventually having sex would be part of it. Why is it so hard for me to imagine? I just dry humped Connor on my kitchen counter last night, yet I can’t muster up a visual of making love to Vick. But maybe that’s because I’m still frazzled over what happened in my kitchen last night.