Yeah.I want you to come.
Butterflies erupt inside of me as I stare at his message.He wants me to come?That has to mean something, doesn’t it?Or am I reading into things I shouldn’t?Curse you, Ford.Curse you and your confusing actions.Like ghosting me, then tracking me down and giving me the best orgasm of my life, then acting all jealous with Bryan and driving me home despite me giving you an out.Add in you asking me personal questions about my family, and now this?I thought I had Ford pegged as someone who doesn’t do relationships or love or feelings in general.And maybe that’s still the case, but considering everything that happened tonight and now a personal invitation to a Harden Night?What the heck am I supposed to say?
Me
I’ll see what I can do.
Ford
Say yes.
Me
I already said I’ll see what I can do.
Ford
Guess I’m desperate.
Me
And why would a guy like you be desperate?
Ford
Because I can still taste you on my tongue.
My cheeks heat as I reread his message.I’d like to say I’d forgotten that part.The part where I was bent at the waist while he ate me out like I was his last meal, but I’m pretty sure it’ll remain in the top three, if not the number one spot, on my most enjoyable sexual encounters list for the rest of my measly existence.Even so, bringing it up so candidly like this?I can’t decide whether to block him or ask when he’ll do it again.
After typing a variety of responses, I settle on one that’s relatively generic, but won’t shut him down, and hit send.
Me
Now look who’s being bold.
Ford
Guess it’s contagious.So, what do you say?I’ll see you tomorrow?
Me
See you tomorrow.
Ford
And Sunday?
Me
So bold.
Ford
And desperate.Don’t forget desperate.
My mouth lifts in spite of myself.Why does he have to be so charming?And why do I have to like it so much?Maybe it’s the fact that I should’ve been in bed a couple of hours ago.Maybe it’s the time of night and the unknown of tomorrow, but for some reason, I can’t explain, I cave.Again.
Me
