I hunt through my gym bag for the spare dress I keep to change from cheerleader to college student or responsible sister attending specialist appointments. It’s not as sexy as Dylan deserves, but it’s better than street casual. Then, I pull out hairbrushes and makeup. Dylan is used to beauty, and I don’t want to disappoint. Although, truthfully, I need to keep my hands and mind busy.
He isn’t here yet, and that gives me too much time, to overthink. Hair brushed loose and lip gloss reapplied, I perch on the edge of the bed, smoothing invisible wrinkles from my turquoise, body-con style, maxi dress. Okay, maybe the dress is sexy enough for Dylan. I like how it makes me feel less like a woman with responsibilities and more like a woman ready for possibilities. But now that I’m ready, the silence is deafening and gives me too much time to change my mind. I open my phone for a distraction and electric sparks tingle in my chest when I see a new text from Dylan.
Dylan:Just parked. Be there in ten.
I smile despite myself. Ten minutes. Enough time to rehearse what I’ll say… and enough time for more doubts to creep in. But then another text comes through.
Dylan:Don’t start without me ;)
Heat flushes my cheeks. I’m typing a response when another message pops up.
Dylan:Is it weird that I’m nervous?
The admission surprises me. Dylan, nervous? He’s the king of confidence, always self-assured and in control on and off the field. I’ve watched the way he positions himself under a bomb, knowing that as soon as he catches the ball, he’ll be hit by forwards two or three times his size and weight. He never breaks a sweat under pressure. So, knowing I’m not the only one scared shitless about what we’re about to do, gives me warm vibes.
Me:You should be. I’m terrifying.
His reply is instant.
Dylan:Scariest woman I know. Can’t wait to face my fears.
When I laugh, the tension in my chest eases. He’s using humor as foreplay, softening the awkwardness for both of us. And it’s working. For the first time since I stepped into this room, I feel like I can breathe.
Dylan:Are you ready?
Me:For?
Dylan:To have your socks knocked off
Me:Hmmm
Me:I’m not wearing any
Dylan:Socks or …
Me:You’ll have to wait and see
The knock comes as I’m second-guessing whether to remove my dress and greet him in lingerie. Too late to change my mind, I cross the room and open the door to find Dylan standing there, looking every bit as gorgeous as I remember that first night. His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his smile is seductively flirty. Oh yes. I’m going to hell, and he might be worth it.
“Hey,” he says, and I can’t help but grin back.
“Hey, yourself.”
For a moment, we just stand there, grinning like fools. Then Dylan breaks the ice with a mock-serious expression.
“So, do we shake hands or sign a contract first?”
I burst out laughing, and the tension shatters. He steps inside, and I quickly close the door behind him before opening to hang theDo Not Disturbsign.
“Neither,” I say with a nervous laugh. “But I might need to see some ID.”
“Fair,” he replies, taking a step closer. “I’ll need a signature for that.”
His teasing tone fades as his gaze locks onto mine, the air between us thickening. When he cups my face in his hands and leans in, I meet him halfway. The kiss is slow, almost tentative at first. It’s like that first night didn’t happen, and we’re almost scared to let ourselves fall into the kiss in case of … what? I don’t know. For me, Dylan is an emotional abyss, a black hole of risk. But the longer we kiss, the greater the need for more. The heat that’s been burning these weeks while we’ve been pretending notto know each other flares between us, and soon we’re a tangle of lips and hands.
We don’t speak as he walks me backwards until my knees press against the large bed. There’s no haze of alcohol to blur the edges, no impulsive recklessness driving us. This is intentional, deliberate, andreal.
I am Emma. He is Dylan. We aren’t just arandom hook up. He does origami and has a bucket list of old eighties rock bands he wants to see live. He knows about my bucket list of ballet to watch and marathons to run.
