I roll my eyes as I open the door. “Well, if they weren’t so?—”
She throws her slipper at me and I’m out the door, slamming it shut before it can hit me. I toss my head back and laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of the apartment complex. Slipping on my coat, I lock the door behind me and check my phone again to see a message from Brian waiting.
Brian:Will do. It’s a little busy here so hopefully your drink is ready when you arrive. You are still coming, right? Sorry, I’m still a little nervous.
I smile from ear to ear, relieved that he’s just as worried as I am about this date.
I lean against the wall to text.
Me:I’m on my way. I promise I’m still coming. <3.
I nibble on my bottom lip, debating if I want to send the heart. It might be too much. I decide to delete it, then press send without it.
As I walk down the steps, Mr. Wrong Number comes to mind. I would love to be going on a date with him instead, but the age gap is an issue for him. It’s a shame, because never in my life would I miss the chance to have another conversation with him. He seems to be the kind of guy that I can talk about anything with, and it would come effortlessly. How many people come into someone’s life where that happens?
When I get to the bottom of the steps, I glance at my phone, the screen bright in the early night, and I click on the message thread between us. My cheeks flame when the first image that pops up is the one of him stroking his cock.
“Jesus,” I breathe, taking a quick glance left and right.
I should not be looking at this. If I were smart, I would delete the entire thread with Mr. Wrong Number, but every time I try, I can’t. I love looking at the pictures and videos we shared. I love listening to his moans and gasps, the way he leaks so much precum that it shines off the tip. He loves to swipe his thumb across the spongy head, then rub it on his shaft for lubrication.
He has such a thick cock. It’s long with a slight curve, and in this photo, it almost looks angry. The crown is flushed and the veins are protruding up the length.
A loud laugh from the other side of the parking lot has me looking up as if I’m about to get caught doing something I’m not supposed to be.
I guess I am.
I should have deleted these damn messages, and now I’m obsessing over them, wishing he was either my age, or I was his.
God.
I bet he’d date my mom.
Clicking the side button, I forget about Mr. Too Old For Me, and tuck him in my pocket where he will be for the remainder of the night. I have a date.
And I need to make the best of it.
My feet are killing me after walking two blocks so I could get a decent free parking spot. I stop in front of the entrance of the restaurant with a minute to spare and decide to use the time to take a few seconds to myself.
The windows are floor-to-ceiling and I’m able to see inside. Brian was right—it is crowded. There’s a nice bar in the back to the left, and every stool is taken. Booths line the wall and windows while tables are strategically placed to fill the rest of the space. The lighting is low, setting the mood, and the waiters are dressed in black-on-black uniforms.
The nerves are back full force.
“It’s just a date. You aren’t marrying the guy,” I mumble to myself, low enough so no one will hear me. “You’re just getting out there. Testing the waters. Nothing else. No pressure.”
Fuck. I’m ridiculous.
“Toughen up.” I take the first step forward and swing the door open, the rush of warmth hitting my face to ease the stinging in my cheeks from the chill in the night air.
The hostess is a beautiful woman with gorgeous dark hair and a bright smile standing behind a polished wooden desk.
“Hi! Welcome to Angelica’s. Do you have a reservation?” she asks.
I slip off my coat and hang it over my arm. “Actually, I’m meeting someone named Brian here? He said he was already here.”
Somehow, her smile becomes brighter. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. Follow me.”
I trail closely behind her, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor that gleams under the romantic lighting. Three bartenders are working behind the bar, the sound of shaking drinks loud even over the conversations everyone seems to be having all at once.
