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I'm so breathless and shaken that when he lowers me down to the floor, I can't stand.
He chuckles softly as he holds my hips to help me stay upright. “And to think I wanted to waste my energy talking,” he says, fastening his belt back up when he's confident that I can stand without his help.
“That was...much better than talking,” I agree, nervous as to where this is going.
Earlier, I told him I didn't want anything from him and that we should forget the whole thing because he'd been about to end it. So, why is he here and why did we just have sex?
“I was an idiot to think that we could ever be friends,” he says.
I'm still trapped between the wall and his hard body. “You wanted to be friends?”
“I'm going to propose we try to be, but friends and casual sex don't mix well.”
“Oh.”
“If it's just sex you want, I'll give it to you. We'll have fun, and then I'll leave.” He pulls back to look at me. “I have to admit I didn't think this could work between us, but I was wrong.”
“You were?”
“After last night I doubted that things between us could go down this road without it turning into something serious.”
Maybe I did fail his test last night, after all. But it seems our conversation at Mum's has convinced him that I'm fine with just being fuck buddies. Considering this was what I proposed in the first place, I should be elated.
However, elated is the last thing I feel. Instead, I feel empty and a tiny bit shattered. The idea of me having any feelings or hesitations was enough to guilt him into breaking our arrangement. Now that he's certain I won't get clingy – that I don't want anything but sex from him – he is all for it. It's a good thing Kara and Mum are wrong and I don't love Dylan. Otherwise, his turnabout might have left me heartbroken.
“Considering I'm leaving, I don't want to start anything serious.”
“Of course,” I say, forcing the words out. “And neither do I.”
“Good. Then that's settled.”
No matter how I feel, I can't pretend I don't want to sleep with him again. His kisses and his touch set me on fire. I've never experienced anything so earth shattering. But for Dylan, it's probably all standard practice. He's probably looking for the exit already, just like he was last night.
“Well, I guess I'll see you Thursday, then?” I ask, pre-empting him.
He lowers his head and kisses me so hotly that I think I'm going to melt. “I'll see you Thursday, definitely,” he replies lazily. “But I'm not leaving yet. I've been thinking about you and me getting horizontal for nine years. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“On what?”
“Nine years is a long time to want someone. I have at least a hundred fantasies that I want to act out and I figure we should start now.”
“Oh,” I say as he picks me up bridal-style and carries me towards my bedroom.
I expected him to leave again right after sex, but now that he's decided I don't pose any risk to his bachelorhood, he doesn't need to race out the door at the first opportunity. That's fine, isn't it? I do want him and this fling.
So what if Kara thinks I can't do causal with Dylan? She's wrong. Everyone is. I can – and I will – sleep with Dylan without looking for anything more from him. Just like he wants. And so what if the idea of him spending three months in my bed before leaving potentially forever makes me feel empty and twisted inside? This is exactly what I asked for and now I'm simply getting what I want, right?
***
On Thursday night, I leave work early. Well, not compared to my colleagues, but for me. Leaving at five on the dot makes me feel as if I'm taking half a day off. As soon as I get home, I shower, do my hair, then spend a good half an hour worrying about what to wear on a date that really isn't a date. I'm not sure whether we'll even leave the house.
After throwing the contents of my wardrobe on the bed, I pull a skirt with a slit up the side out of the mess and pair it with a soft flowing green blouse that brings out the green in my eyes. With my outfit selected, I put the rest of my clothes away and get dressed.
Once I'm ready, I sit down. And then I stand up again. Staying still is impossible with the amount of nervous energy thrumming through my body as I wait for seven o'clock to come around, the time we agreed he would come over.
The five minutes that pass after seven o'clock drags by slower than the rest. He's late. If he's having second thoughts again...
No, I won't entertain the possibility. We sorted out his concerns. He's probably just late because...well, because he's never cared that much about being on time.
