Page 2 of Fumble

“We’ve had this discussion a million times, Zee. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life afraid to have sex. It’s one of the most natural things in the world. I feel like I’m missing out, and the longer it goes on, the more I build it up in my head.”

“I get that, but it doesn’t mean you have to go and have a sleazy one-night stand to lose your virginity.” Her phone rings, saving me from justifying my decision any further. “I gotta go… work. Call me when you land. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She disappears out the door, and I’m left alone with my thoughts, her words reverberating around in my brain.

Am I wrong?

Is there a right way to do this?

I’ve talked myself out of sex so many times and even with someone I loved. I don’t want to have this weighing down on me anymore. I need to stick to the plan—the V-Plan!

* * *

“He’ll be herein fifteen minutes. Why don’t you grab a drink at the bar? I’d stay and wait with you, but I need to get a head start on prepping for tomorrow.” I watch as Mr. Vaughn’s manager, Malcolm, darts toward the elevator. I interviewed with him for this job a few weeks ago. He’s one of the most notorious and cutthroat sports agents in the business, but you wouldn’t know it to look at him—small and tubby with beady, greedy eyes.

I order a glass of Prosecco and take a seat at the bar. I’m hyperaware of my dress, worrying that it shows too much leg when I sit down. My knee bounces with a nervous tick, my heels tapping on the metal of the barstool. I don’t know why I’m suddenly so apprehensive about meeting my new boss. It’s not like he’s a stranger. My dad treats him like a son. He’s practically my brother, right?

The familiar ping of the elevator garners my attention in the bustling hotel lobby. Every time it echoes against the cool marble floors, I can’t help but glance to see if it’s him. I count the minutes—five, ten, fifteen. With each tick of the clock, my nerves multiply exponentially.

“Would you like another glass?” the bartender asks with a warm smile.

“Yes, thanks.” I force myself to look away, taking some calming breaths. As soon as he sets the glass down in front of me, I gulp it down like Kool-Aid, giving me an instant buzz.

“Can I buy you another?” a smooth voice comes from behind me.

“I’m waiting for someone.” I turn to see a guy about my age, cute, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He surveys the bar.

“Well, I’ll keep you company until they arrive.” He gestures to the bartender.

“Scotch on the rocks and a glass of whatever the lady is drinking.” He takes a seat beside me with an air of confidence.

“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

“Not at all. I just hate to see a woman drinking alone, especially one as beautiful as you.” Ugh.

This guy is corny, but I need to start somewhere if I want to make the most of this summer. A little flirting is harmless, right? “So, who are you waiting for? Blind date? Boyfriend?”

“No, and no. Waiting for my new boss. You?”

“I’m a journalist on assignment for a few days. I’m James.” He holds out his hand, and I respond with a firm, no-nonsense handshake just like my dad taught me.

“I’m Faith.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Faith. How long are you in town?”

“Just a few days. Flew in this morning.”

“Who’s your new boss?”

“Is this off the record?” I give him a wry smile. “Feels like the Spanish Inquisition. Are you always this forward?”

“Sorry. Job hazard. I just want to get to know you a little better. I have an inability to leave dead airspace.” There’s a shyness in his eyes that I find endearing, hidden behind a façade of bravado.

“Hunter Vaughn.”

“What about him?”

“He’s my new boss.”

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