Page 61 of Over the Moon

He just asked me on a date, and of course, I made it weird.

“I see your wheels spinning, and I think I know you well enough to guess that now you’re thinking that I never asked you to have sex, and maybe I don’t want that. I know how that brain of yours works, Eloise.” He reached for my chin and turned my face up so I would meet his gaze. “I think about having sex with you every fucking day. It’s torture being this close to you and not touching you. So take those doubts away and tell me your reasoning.”

My breath hitched in my throat, and I shrugged. “I told you about how my mom and I kept notebooks those last few months of her life, and I saved every single one of them. They were filled with life advice, and some I didn’t understand when I was young, so it has a different meaning now.”

“That makes sense. You were young when she passed away,” he said. His hand playing with mine as we sat facing one another. “What did she say?”

“Well, the one I always reference when I date someone is pretty basic. She said not to give my heart away unless I was completely over the moon about someone, and they felt the same way about me.”

“She was giving you all her mama advice right there in your notebooks,” he said, his gaze filled with empathy.

“Yep. And I haven’t always taken it. The first guy I was ever with was my freshman year of college. I lost my virginity to him, and we dated for six months before we realized we had nothing in common. I think it was just this milestone I wanted to knock off my list.” I sighed. “And then I dated a few people throughout college, but I never crossed that line again with sex, because it didn’t feel right. And then I met Spencer in grad school, and he was the second guy I was ever with. I think I wanted to be in love so badly that I sort of convinced myself I was. And we were together for several years, and he’s a great guy, but it just wasn’t right. I’ve never felt the way my mom said I should feel, so maybe that’s the problem. So at the end of the day, I’m just not super experienced sexually.” I covered my face with my hand and groaned, because what was I doing? Why was I sharing all of this?

“Hey, you don’t need to be embarrassed talking to me. We’re friends first, Weeze. And I don’t have a lot of female friends. I want to know this stuff. I think it’s cool that you look at sex differently. I haven’t had sex since before playoffs started, so weeks before you came to town, which is a long run for me,” he said, wincing like I would find that offensive.

“Why do you think you haven’t had sex?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t want anyone else.” He shook his head as if it hadn’t come out right. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t expect sex from you. I know this is complicated, and knowing how you feel about it, I don’t want you to think that’s what I’m here for. I’m just being honest, because I don’t want anyone else. I don’t know what it means. I haven’t been in a serious relationship since high school, and we know how that ended. I enjoy women. I enjoy sex. I guess I’ve just never been over the moon about anyone either,” he chuckled.

“Do you have a pen?” I asked, as my teeth sank into my bottom lip.

I knew I was making a mistake crossing the line.

Putting myself out there.

Knowing this would end poorly.

Clark Chadwick was a hockey star. Women fell at his feet. He could have whoever he wanted. He didn’t do relationships.

I was a relationship girl. I was inexperienced with sex. And I was not only his coach’s daughter, but I worked for the same team he played for.

This was a line I shouldn’t cross.

I knew it. He knew it.

But when he reached into his nightstand and handed me the pen, I didn’t hesitate.

I turned the page in the notebook.

Good morning, Chadwick,

I appreciate you holding my hair back while I emptied my stomach into your toilet. When we are both back to normal and feeling well, I would like to go on a date with you. No gym. No work. No contracts. No sex.

XX, Weeze

“I added just one rule at the end.” I handed it to him, and he laughed.

“I can live with that.”

“What if the kiss is awful?” I asked.

“Then we get off easy, no pun intended on that one,” he smirked.

I shoved him in the chest and chuckled. “It would be great if the first kiss sucks. Then we would just be friends, and we’d stop thinking about it. And then you can go back to sleeping with random women, and I can find a guy who I’m over the moon for.”

“Here’s hoping the kiss sucks,” he said with a wicked grin on his face as he held up his glass of blue Gatorade, and I reached for mine and clinked it against his. “So, today we rest. Tomorrow, pending you’re feeling better because I feel back to normal today, we’ll get back to our workout routine, and I’m taking you on a date after.”

“Our date is tomorrow?”

---