Page 74 of Latte Girl
We kissed a bit at the end of the night, and that’s when I knew I didn’t want to take things any farther. It was a Steve kind of kiss, not aJordanone.
Resisting the urge to smack myself in the head for putting Jordan at the top end of my make out rating system, I dial the guy’s number and brace myself for lettinghimdown.
“Hey, Matt? It’sHailey.”
He doesn’t make things any easier when he tells me he’s glad I called and that he was just thinkingaboutme.
“I, uh, have something to tell you,” I begin. “I just thought it would be better to say this over the phone instead of with a text. I’ve had a good time with you so far,butI...”
I draw a blank. I didn’t think to plan what I’d say inadvance.
“Oh,” he says flatly, “so it’sthatkind ofphonecall?”
“You’re a great guy, really,” I tell him, and have yet another urge to smack myself in the head. “I know how awful and cliché that sounds and I kind of hate myself for saying it, but it’s true. You’re great. Any logically thinking girl would be bending over backwards todate you— Okay that came out way more sexual than I meant, but the point is, but I’m not looking for something...somethingso...”
I hear him laugh into the phone as Istruggle.
“Logical?” hesuggests.
“Yes,” I agree, “something so logical. That doesn’t even make any sense, does it? That’s not how these things are supposedtowork.”
There’s a pause at the other end oftheline.
“The best things are the ones that work even when they don’t makesense.”
I almost drop my phone in shock. I wasn’t aware I was going out with some kind of sage. Once again I reflect on how insane it is to turn thisguydown.
“That’s very observant,” I manage toreply.
“Observant enough to make you want to give me anotherchance?”
I make a spluttering noise and he laughsagain.
“I’m just kidding. I get it, and I admire you for refusing to settle. I hope you find what you’relookingfor.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Youtoo.”
“Guess it’s time to start swiping again,” he jokes, and now I’m the onelaughing
We say goodbye after that and I endthecall.
My apartment is dark now, lit only by a soft glow from the lights of the building across the street. I still have to buy myself some curtains. I get off the bed and turn on the floor lamp from my old bedroom, then settle down in my new armchair and open up my very outdatedlaptop.
My blog went live a week ago. It’s still very barebones and definitely a work in progress, but I figured I had to start somewhere and I was done with putting it off. So far all I’ve got up is my inaugural ‘Hello internet, hear me roar!’ post. I have three followers, but I’ve been trying not to let that get me down. I’m concentrating on networking for the time being, and I’ve already found a few food bloggerfriends.
I scroll through a few news feeds and post some comments before deciding to call it a night. I dig out my sheets from one of the few boxes I have left to unpack and get them set up. My muscles ache from all the moving and my eyelids feel heavy, but three hours later I’m still lying wide awakeinbed.
Trying to fall asleep in a new place has me tossing and turning, sweating under the covers despite the fact that it’s mid December and the heating in here is sketchy at best. I throw the blankets off me and tug my pyjama shirt over my head. Lying there half naked in the dark, I start to get all hot and bothered in a completelydifferentway.
I run my fingers along the skin of my stomach, imagining that they belong to someone else. Slipping my hands down to trace the inside of my thighs, I picture a dark-haired man spreading my legs and urging me on. I try to stop his voice from turning into Jordan’s husky growl, to keep his hands from pinning me to the bed with Jordan’s firm grasp, but Ican’t.
It’s him. It’salwayshim.
* * *
The next day,I’m hard at work racking up followers for Angela Croydon in my makeshift home office. It consists of a foldable side table pulled up in front of my armchair. My phone beeps to announce a new text and I welcome the distraction; I haven’t left my laptop allmorning.
The message is from Mel. Since our heart to heart during my Dark Night of the Soul, we’ve moved from being a step above acquaintances to full on friends. She’s asking if I’ll be stopping by Cuppa Joe today. I textherback.
