God, sinful chocolate. It was all I could think about, a big sundae of all my naughty vices—the guy and the chocolate candy and the ice cream.
We stayed like that for a while, kissing and exploring as we sat on the sofa. Both of us needing to breathe, we broke free for a minute and stared at each other as our chests rose and fell in sync.
What was Layton doing to me? I met the guy on a plane in a down time in my life, and despite the fact that I wasn’t nice to him, he pursued me through e-mail. I had to be the dumbest girl in America despite all my academic and business success.
As we gazed at each other, saying nothing, his hand roamed my waist at the bottom of my shirt, his thumb tracing the fine line of skin at my waistline. His finger was smooth against my skin, never snagging or scratching.
It was heaven, I decided, but not for me.
“I have to go. This is a lot to take in, okay?”
Layton’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry if I pushed too fast. Stay, Charli,” he said while scooting to the far side of the couch. “I’ll keep my hands and lips over here.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
Mortified, I grabbed my forehead and took a deep breath. “I did not just use the most cliché line ever, did I?” I mumbled, refusing to look up for fear shame or regret would be plastered on Layton’s face.
“You did, but it’s cool. I get it. This is unexpected.”
I looked at Layton sitting there, his AC/DC tee stretched across his chest and riding up a smidge on his hip, his dark hair a mess, his jeans unfashionably loose, and those Chucks.
Could this be me? Here with this guy? Then I saw his dimple and the stubble and the way sincere worry transformed his face, and I thought ... yes, it could, but I didn’t know if I wanted it.
“I have to go,” I repeated. “I just need to collect my thoughts.”
“Okay,” Layton said, but he didn’t move.
“I’m going to catch a cab downstairs.”
Please e-mail me.
Please don’t hate me.
Keeping those thoughts to myself, I stood and grabbed my tote, noting my half-full glass of wine on the table.Is my glass half-full or half-empty?I was starting to believe I was a half-empty kind of gal.
“Do you want me to walk you down?”
I shook my head. “Thank you, but no.” I headed toward the door.
“Why don’t I stay an extra night?” he suggested. “We could do drinks here, on the rooftop of the hotel. I hear it’s pretty outrageous at night. We can just relax, have a couple of drinks, and end this on the right note. Not like now.”
“Okay.”
I might have agreed but I knew I wouldn’t show up. My inner bitch was winning out, and I hated her. I deserved a lifetime of being alone. I had to get out of there.
“Seven again?” he asked.
God, he was still trying. He was so nice. “Sure.”
I gave Layton a quick peck on the cheek and ran right the hell out of there—my lips furious at me for rushing them away from his perfectly stubbled cheek.
