Two weeks later.
Afunny thing happened after I stayed that very first night with Dakota: I stayed the next night, too.
And the night after that.
And the night afterthatone, too.
I never intended to stay that many nights in a row, but the days seemed to fly by, because hanging out with Dakota was so much fun. It helped, too, that our schedules pulled us apart for just long enough—he with his twice-a-day workouts, and me with my shifts at BarDown—that we were always excited to meet up again at the end of the day.
Spending time with him was my guilty pleasure—I felt sogoodwhen I was with him. He made me laugh nonstop. He wasn’t intimidated by my wealth; instead, he made me feel like I was a normal girl. And the sex wasamazing.It just kept getting better, each and every time.
So why did I say it was myguiltypleasure, then?
Good question. I’m not sure.
I guess because, deep down, there was a feeling that I was … well … letting myself become attached … letting myselffall… for something, for somebody, I knew I could never have.
And I could tellhewas falling for me, too.
Yeah.
Yeah, that’s pretty much why it made me feel guilty.
It felt irresponsible, in a way. It was theonlything wrong with our connection.
But one day after another passed until two whole weeks had gone by, and we hadn’t spent a single night apart. It’s funny to me to think back to the beginning of summer, when all I wanted was the quintessential “normal college girl” experience. And after two weeks with Dakota, I finally started to feel like a normal college girl:
I had a job.
I had a car. (Dakota not only continued to give me driving lessons, he also loaned me the use of his “winter car,” a Mercedes sedan. And because we’d obtained my learner’s permit at the DMV, I could actually drive on the road legally.)
I even had a—summer fling? A friend with benefits? Dunno. It’s complicated. Dakota and I never really discussed what we were. Obviously, we liked each other, and our relationship was physical, and I’d be absolutelyguttedif I found out he’d had sex with another girl. But how serious were we, truly? And how much could we really let our guards down when we both knew that, at the end of this summer, he’d get traded, and I had to go back to school in California?
In a twisted way—after getting closer to a bunch of coworkers my age, and hearing about their boy drama—my situation with Dakota might have been the thing that made me feel the most “normal.”
My coworker, Sienna, was the first to detect the change in me. She pestered and pried at me for days, trying to get the truth out of me, until at last I caved and told her I’d been seeing a guy.
“It’s Dakota, isn’t it?” she asked.
I swore her to secrecy and told her that it was. Sienna was thrilled—until she found out that I’d stayed at his house forfourteenstraight nights.
“Are younuts, O?” she asked, her eyes bulging. “He’s gonna get sick of you if you keep staying at his place! You have to give yourself some space to keep things fresh! Give the romance itself some air to breathe, too!”
I believed her. Why wouldn’t I? She had experience and I didn’t. But I didn’t need experience to know that, deep down, some part of me felt it “wrong” and “pathetic” for wanting to spend my time with someone I’d just met … even ifallI wanted to do was be with him.
When I got home from work that day, I heeded Sienna’s advice and informed Dakota I would be staying at Leo’s condo that night instead. My heart nervously raced as I told him. This felt like a small moment of truth. I’d be crushed if Dakota gave a careless shrug and said something like,oh okay, whatever, have fun.
Instead, he acted all jealous and confused, maybe even a little hurt, when I broke the news. “What? You want to stay atLeo’s? Why?”
I won’t lie, his reaction thrilled me, though I was careful not to let it show. I told Dakota it was healthy to spend time apart, and reminded him that I had my own bedroom at Leo’s place, that Leo liked men, and he had nothing to worry about.
“I’m not worried about that …” he said, though he couldn’t quite find the words for what he was feeling.
Still, I had something to prove—though whether I was trying to prove it to him or myself, I’m not sure—so I stuck with the plan and stayed the night at Leo’s instead.
The moment I left his condo, though, I felt like I’d made a horrible mistake. It felt like I’d left a piece of myself behind, leaving a void in my heart that yearned so badly to be back in Dakota’s presence.
Catching up with Leo took my mind off the emptiness for a few hours, at least. Leo eagerly soaked up all the juicy gossip about my forbidden tryst with the hockey player, and reveled in the steamy details of how I’d finally lost my V-card.
