Page 15 of Not Your Basic Love Story
He looked absolutely dashing in a polo shirt with khaki knee-length shorts, his well-styled hair tousled by the wind.
“Should I go change?” I asked, feeling under-dressed in my short-shorts and tank top.
He shook his head, his brown eyes meeting mine. “You look perfect.” As we drew near one another, a spark of electricity danced between us, and my pulse quickened in response. I was a little uncomfortable with the intensity of my emotions. I forced my breathing to slow, hoping my heart rate would follow. It had only been one night. Just one night. Settle down.
I looked away before he could kiss me. “So, what’s the plan, Stan?”
He led me up to the street and into a cab, where we were taken to an avenue lined with food trucks and tourist shops. As we wandered down the lane checking things out, he reached out and took my hand. I gave it a reassuring squeeze, my heart rising into my throat at his touch.
We spent the evening filling each other in on the details people usually do on a first date, prior to the sexy stuff. He’d taken six years to earn a four-year BA degree, as he’d had to continue working in his family’s various businesses. He liked the idea of continuing his education, getting his MBA but wasn’t sure. It turned out I was a few years older than him, which I tried not to let bother me. When the guy is older, nobody gives a shit, so why should it matter when the woman is? He was very impressed by my degrees in polymer and mechanical engineering and my career in injection mouldings.
I avoided talking about work. Everyone hears ‘engineering’ and thinks my job is super interesting, and I never want to ruin it for them. My degrees were for very practical applications. I wasn’t some inventor like I’d imagined I’d be when I was a kid, and I didn’t like to dwell on it. Nobody wants to hear about 3D CAD programs and packaging design.
The conversation shifted to all the travelling I’d done, how lucky I’d been to explore the world. Travel was a priority in my life and always would be. Having been so busy working for his family and getting his degree, Dev hadn’t travelled much out of the lower mainland, but hoped to change that.
Dev always had great questions to ask, his eyes lighting up or his smile tugging at the corners of his lips while I spoke. It was nice talking to someone and having them listen. Like, really listen. Usually, my dates with guys turned into conversations about themselves, but with Dev, it was the opposite.
But damn, did I love listening to him talk. His voice was so smooth, so sensual, and I loved watching his lips move, his brow furrow, his eyes twinkle.
I told him about my older brother who lived in Australia, about my parents who were retired and lived in Victoria. He was shocked I only had three cousins I wasn’t remotely close to, and he couldn’t imagine having such a small family. He had one younger sister, so many cousins I couldn’t believe it, and lived with his family on their estate, where they also grew blueberries.
I didn’t blame him for living with his parents still. Given the cost of housing in the Greater Vancouver Area, most young people stayed home until they got married and moved into crappy condos. Plus, he was a student, so his finances were likely limited. I wondered about his expensive-looking clothes, the shoes he wore and the watch on his wrist. His family owned a business, so perhaps he came from money.
Regardless of his finances, I wasn’t one to judge. I lived in a tiny-ass condo in Vancouver, which wasn’t much to brag about, didn’t own a car, had never even learned to drive, was up to my eyeballs in student loan debt, and my savings were non-existent.
Our lives seemed so different.
For a few minutes, I considered telling him about my ex, but everything was going so well. We were both having such a great time. The last thing I wanted was to be a Debbie Downer. Besides, the conversation never really went in that direction. If it came up naturally later, I’d tell him.
“What’s with your ridiculous pink luggage?” I asked as we sat in one of the bars for a drink. I had a margarita, and he had a sprite.
His brow furrowed and forehead wrinkled, which I was slowly becoming addicted to. “My sister, Priya. It was a prank. She hid all the rest of the luggage in the house so I’d be forced to use hers. Her way of embarrassing me in front of our cousins, I guess. Joke’s on her, I’m comfortable with my masculinity, and pink doesn’t bother me.”
“So, it’s her fault this happened, then.” I smiled and licked the salt from the rim of my glass.
Dev smiled, too. “Yeah. I guess I’ll have to thank her.”
The night drew to a close. Hand holding wasn’t enough for me anymore, and I couldn’t wait to have his lips on mine again. Before getting into a cab, I popped into a convenience store and bought a pack of condoms.
“Awfully presumptuous of you,” he joked.
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop the stupid grin on my face, and tugged him towards a cab.
The poor cab driver did his best to navigate without being distracted as we teetered closer and closer to the edge of impropriety in the backseat. My legs intertwined with Dev’s, nearly straddling him, fighting against the restraint of my seatbelt. Dev’s hands were on my ass, his mouth on my neck, and his rushed breaths gasped in my ear.
We managed to make it to my resort and up to my room, collapsing onto the rose petals and kissing swans the cleaning service so diligently set up each night, completely oblivious to the fact that I was the lone occupant.
Until tonight, of course.
We hurriedly removed our clothing, making no time for sexy stripteases. I ripped into the package of condoms, tearing the box in half and flinging little silver packages everywhere. Dev and I couldn’t help but laugh, both grabbing one and racing to see who could open itfirst. He won, sliding it over himself before tossing me onto the bed.
Our bodies craved one another's touch, hungered for it. As our mouths collided and our bodies pressed into one another, we rolled back and forth from positions of dominance and submission, selfishly satisfying our carnal cravings before turning our attentions to the other.
We moved as one, in blissful harmony, as if we’d been rehearsing for years. He seemed to know what I needed, and if ever he was slightly off course, I felt completely comfortable guiding him to a more fruitful path. Dev was eager to please, and I returned the favour.
Several minutes later, we collapsed, not even making it under the covers. We stared at the ceiling, panting, our bodies flushed and tingling from our exertions.
I looked over at him, enjoying the view. A light sheen of sweat on his chest reflected the moonlight from the window, the warm colour of his skin a welcome contrast against the white sheets.
