But the real world came and intruded on us. We had to call it off.
The last few days I haven’t seen her around as much. But holy shit, when I discovered today was her fucking birthday, I knew that I had to get past any sort of awkwardness that we had with each other.
Fuck, it didn’t seem like this morning that anyone else was going to celebrate her birthday with her. Dad probably doesn’t even know. Or if he does, he just wants to actively show he forgot to bring out the sentiment that he doesn’t fucking care. Because he’s a sociopath.
So that left me. I had the day, and the townhouse staff to help me whip something up.
And now, because of it, she’s holding onto my arms and kissing me passionately.
I’m fucking rubbing her back and running my fingers through her hair. I’m hard. Painfully fucking hard. As in my cock is going to break if we keep this up.
Are we headed to sex again?
But it’s different this time. Last time we were in a similar spot, we weren’t kissing. That was just pure lust.
This time, there’s something different.
I feel her tongue trace the outline of the roof of my mouth and then come back down and gently massage my tongue. I return the favor.
This time, we are kissing. This time it’s gentler. As if we’re falling for each other.
Shit. That’s even worse.
And then, as is our fate, I hear the front door slam open.
“I don’t care if the fucking Teacher’s Union doesn’t like the changes we’re proposing, tell them after the election the fucking voters forget about everything anyways,” dad’s loud voice comes through. He’s either talking to an aide or into his phone.
A light goes on in the hallway.
Jocelyn pulls back immediately. So do I.
We disentangle ourselves from each other. Her chest is heaving from holding her breath in this long. I’m looking at her.
“I don’t give two shits about the MTA funding right now,” dad says. He’s definitely talking into his phone.
I see Jocelyn turn her head as the footsteps come toward the living room. She doesn’t bother looking at me, but rather collects herself and briskly walks out of the opposite exit to the living room. She wants to avoid dad.
She’s gone not a second before he comes into the room. He sees me standing next to a table filled with food and champagne.
“What are you doing here?” he asks me.
I didn’t really plan this excuse out, but it just comes naturally to me. “Today’s Jocelyn’s birthday,” I tell him.
He stares at me blankly for a second. I hope he’s not trying to figure out which Jocelyn I’m talking about.
“So?” he finally asks. “That’s what all the food and champagne is for?”
“Want to join us?” I ask him darkly.
What a fucking horrible motherfucker. I mean, sure, I was just kissing her a few minutes ago so maybe I’m not saint, but I didn’t go about marrying her, and if what she says is correct, never fucking touch her in the whole time I’ve known her.
No wonder Jocelyn is crushing all over me. For the first time in a long ass fucking time, someone is showing real, genuine, affection for her. Someone is showing desire for her.
“I think joining you would be a waste of my time,” dad says, turning around after hanging his top coat in the closet. “I have plenty of better things I could be doing with my time.”
“Dad,” I paused and watched him as he froze at hearing me call out to him. “At least go upstairs and wish her a happy birthday then.”
Dad seemed to consider, but then shrugged his shoulder. “If that's all it takes for her to feel better, then I’ll leave that to you, son,” he tells me. “No one is better than you in winning people over.”