Continuing to be his friend seemed impossible because I was pretty sure I was falling in love with him.
My phone chimed one morning.The dogs miss you.Chelsea: I miss them, too.Damien: It’s not fair to them what you’re doing. You can’t just come see them for five minutes?Chelsea: I can’t.Damien: It’s not just them. I miss you, too.Chelsea: I’m sorry.With each day, the pain only got worse. It was the same kind of despair one experiences after a breakup, but in this case, there had been no romantic relationship, of course.
After a couple of weeks, I’d basically hit rock bottom.
It was late on a Friday night, and I’d decided that I was going to make myself this cocktail that I’d read about in one of my romance novels. It was called a Weeping Orgasm. The ingredients were blueberry vodka, Sprite, and fresh berries.
After downing three of them, I was basically off of my ass. Feeling the effects of my liquid courage, I opened the dating site that Damien had set me up on when we first met and decided to play around on it.
For shits and giggles, I looked up Online Damien’s profile and saw it was active. That meant that even though the free trial had run out, he’d paid to continue the subscription. That also meant that while he was choosing not to date me, he was using the site to meet other women.
My blood was boiling. My head had already been messed up from the alcohol, but now it felt like it was full-on spinning. While he’d continuously rejected me, he was basically on here, trolling for sex. I’d show him.
I clicked on the option to send him a message and typed.Wanna fuck?My heart was pounding. He probably wouldn’t even see it tonight. The little dot that would have been green if he was online remained unlit.
I immediately went back to try to delete what I’d written but there was no option to do that once a message was sent.
I looked closer at what I’d messaged him and realized it hadn’t come through the way I’d intended. The auto correct had actually changed the message to:Wanna duck?Great. That was smooth. Not only had I made a drunken fool of myself to try to prove a point, but the message actually made no sense at all.
I shut my laptop in defeat and nearly passed out.
Some time later, the sound of my front door slamming shut caused me to hop up from the bed.
Damien was slowly walking toward me as I moved backwards away from him.
My heart was racing. “How did you get in here?”
Damien lifted his key in answer to my question. I guess that was a dumb inquiry given he owned the building.
He backed me up against wall. “Did you just message me to come over and fuck you?”
“Technically, it said duck.”
“Technically, you’re drunk.”
“Technically, you might be right.” I snorted.
“You reek of alcohol, Chelsea. You think this is funny? Getting sloshed alone like this? Saying shit like that to me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You think it’s all a joke, that you can just say stuff like that, that you don’t have an effect on me? It’s taking every bit of strength in my body not to accept your offer right now, take you against this wall and fuck you so hard for being a bitch these past two weeks.”
“I wish you would.”
“If I had a condom and you weren’t drunk as hell, I just might have. And that scares the shit out of me. That’s how little control I have around you.”
“Do it.”
“I wouldn’t touch you like this.”
“You wouldn’t touch me, period,” I said bitterly.
“That’s what you think? You have no idea how close I’ve come to losing it with you so many times. No clue.”
“Really. When?”
“That day you came over smelling like bacon for one. Don’t think I can’t tell exactly what you’re thinking when you look at me. You are so transparent, and it drives me crazy.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was half-naked when I opened the door that day, remember? You were fucking me with your eyes. I wanted to rip your shirt off faster than the dogs did.”
“What else?”
“That night we were hanging out when I cut that douchebag’s shirt off of you. I wanted to cut everything else off you too and fuck every memory of him out of you right then and there on the kitchen counter. Then, I wanted to wrap you in my own shirt and fuck you all over again. You want me to continue, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
God, he was turning me on.
“When we kissed, I didn’t think I was ever going to be able to stop. It was by no means the first kiss I’d ever had, but it was the best kiss, Chelsea. The best. Ever. I never wanted it to end.”