Page 9 of Crush
“Sure. Whiskey would be great,” he said as he plopped onto my couch.
“Whiskey for two, then,” I said.
I'm not a big fan of liquor, but I figured I'd need the courage.
I poured the two glasses in the kitchen and took a second to breathe and find my center.
My friends have always told me that I should wait before I have 'the talk' with any guy that is even slightly promising. Their theory is that I should let him fall in love with me before I tell him the truth. But I've already experienced that, in a way. And in the end, the years we spent together didn't mean a thing to my ex-husband, Mikey.
So why keep it a secret any longer than I have to? If Brad's the type of guy that's going to bolt, then I can't stop him, he's going to bolt. Better to let him know sooner, beforeI'mthe one whoends up falling in love with someone who can't give me what I need.
And call me old-fashioned, but I won't sleep with someone unless I think we've got a future together. It just screws with my head. Especially after everything I've been through.
I returned to the living room, drinks in hand. I sat next to Brad and gave him his whiskey.
“Cheers,” he said, our tumblers coming together with aclink.
We both took a sip.
“You look gorgeous tonight, by the way,” he said, his voice lusty.
His hand went to my face. He stroked my cheek, readying me for the kiss. But when he leaned forward, I shied away.
Brad chuckled. “You kissed me in the truck, but now you won't? What's wrong, Brynn?”
“I'm just—” I stammered. “I'm sorry. I'm nervous. It's been a long time for me.”
“We can take things slow. Just like we have been.”
“Thank you.” I rested my head against his shoulder.
Brad put his arm around me, and we sat in the comfortable silence, quietly sipping our whiskeys. On the inside, he was probably wondering what the hell he was doing with an obvious nutcase who hadn't given him anything in the two months we'd dated.
I felt so awful, but I just didn't have the strength to tell him yet. It seemed so crazy, so out of left field! But I knew if I didn't tell him, I wasn't being true to myself, and I'd only continue to act weird and flaky.
Eventually, Brad tried to kiss me again.
This time, I didn't pull away. Our lips met, and we shared a long, soft kiss.
But it was only a matter of time before Brad started to kiss me hungrier, deeper, and his hand began to travel down my side. His hand glided over my hip and he traced his fingertips up and down my thighs, always moving closer to my crotch.
“Brad,” I said, gently pushing his arm away. “Wait.”
He tried to hide his growing impatience. “What is it now?”
I twisted a lock of hair around my finger. There really wasn't an easy way to bring it up without sounding crazy.
“I like you, Brad.”
“I like you too,” he said, although his tone seemed to be asking,so what's the problem? This is the part of the night where we fuck.
“God, there's no way easy to do this but to just come out and say it.” I paused. “Brad, how do you feel about kids?”
He nearly spit his whiskey out before howling with laughter. “And here I thought I was moving too fast foryou.Kids? Really? That's what's bothering you? Maybe we should pump the brakes a little before we start talking about kids.”
I slithered out from under his arm. “Look, I know it's weird to have a talk about kids this early. And trust me, this isn't my way of telling you that I'm ready to get knocked up after a handful of dates.”
“Whew,” he said, comically tugging at his collar.
