Page 27 of Missed Exit

“Don’t say that. I don’t want you to wish away any moments we spend together. And if you forgot that part, you might forget everything that came after.”

“No, trust me, I won’t ever forget what came after. Or after that. Or after that.”

“If you keep flattering me, there might be more to come.”

“I can’t take any more. It’s a good thing I don’t have to go anywhere in the morning. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk.”

“What did I just tell you about flattering me?”

We both laugh, and I like the way it sounds. Our laughter occurs together a lot. And I hope what happened in her bedroom this evening happens a lot from now on.

“Hey, what happened to that pizza you put in the oven?”

She bolts upright. “Oh, shit! I forgot all about the pizza.”

Her nose crinkles as she sniffs the air. “Wait a minute. It should be burned to a crisp by now, but I don’t smell anything. Do you?”

“No. Are you sure you turned the oven on?”

Hanging her head, she admits, “I was so nervous about being naked in front of you that I nearly forgot to take the plastic off the pizza. Then I was so overcome with relief that my brain had kicked in before I let it melt all over . . . everything that happened right after is a blur. I have no memory of turning on the oven. And since the smoke detectors haven’t gone off, I think it’s safe to assume I didn’t.”

“We would’ve been too busy to take it out if you had, and now I’m twice as hungry, so it’ll taste even better. Some mistakes work out for the best.”

She smiles, but there’s no laughter. I can’t decode the look in her eyes, but I’d sell my soul to keep it from being regret.

Please don’t let her regret this.

I watch her shimmy into a pair of shorts without bothering with underwear. If she knew how hot I find that . . . never mind, she definitely knows. Her boobs shake a little as she pulls a t-shirt over her head. She never goes braless. I like this post-sex, free-the-nipple version of her. Suddenly, my stomach growls like an angry bear.

It’s not the first time since I moved here that I’ve found myself more interested in pizza than pussy. But with Greta, I am definitely still interested in the latter. I prefer to think of this pizza as a precursor to round two.

Or round three, as the case may be. It’s not bragging if it’s true.

16

Greta

People Do What They Do

Iknowit’snotunusual for the sex to be exceedingly hot in the beginning, and of course, someone can easily consume your thoughts when you’re at that stage, but damn.

Walking past the take-and-bake pizza in the grocery store should not make my panties wet. And I should not feel the urge to take my clothes off when an errant dog toy shaped like a baseball bounces off my foot on the sidewalk.

I roll the ball back to the clumsy black dog who’s anxiously scampering between all the cars searching for it. Poor guy. His owner runs over to thank me with an empty leash in her hand.

“That ball is his favorite thing in the world. When it fell out of his mouth and started rolling down the sidewalk, he snapped the leash ring right off his collar! Time for a harness, I guess.”

“We’ve all got our favorite things.” I shrug and give her a smile.

“Thanks again,” she says, jogging off to catch up with her dog, who is already running in circles in the park across the street.

The smell of strong coffee and fresh lemon pound cake hypnotizes me when I walk into Coffee & Cake. In their defense, all the clever coffee shop and bakery names were probably already taken. It’s kind of refreshing to be told exactly what to expect. No puns, no mystery. They’ve got coffee, and they’ve got cake.

What they don’t have is Law right next door, exuding his sex vibes through the wall. Okay, truthfully, he’s probably still sleeping, but I know he’s over there, and that’s enough to prevent me from getting any writing done.

I need to be here, sitting at my favorite little corner table, half-hidden by a giant plastic monstera plant in need of a good dusting. This is where my creativity flows best—with a steamy cup of dark roast and a slice of whatever looks the most decadent.

The coffee is hot and the red velvet cake is fluffy and light, but just dense enough to support a thick layer of cream cheese frosting. I lick my fork.

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