Man of My Dreams(55)

He ushers me outside, his hand against my bare back again. I wonder if he can feel the goosebumps that he’s created there.

When we’re outside, I take the lead, walking toward the parking lot. Where we can be alone. I rest up against the brick wall. The chill of the cement against my skin feels so refreshing. I’m totally overheated—my temperature, my heart rate could come down a few notches.

“What’s up, Mia? Why do things feel different all of a sudden?”

“Because they are.” I’m tired of waiting. I’ve waited since I was fourteen years old to do this. No time like the present right...especially since presently my marital status is indeterminable.

I turn to Noah, pushing him into the wall; my hands caress his smooth face. I wonder if he always shaves, or if it was just for tonight. There is so much I don’t know about this man, so much I want to find out.

“Mia, please. Don’t. You’re drunk, you don’t want to do this.” He moves his hands off of me, from where they were resting right above my bottom.

“I’m not drunk. And I do want this. I’ve wanted this for a long time and I can’t miss this chance again.” I inch closer to him, staring at his lips. I’d memorized the shape, the way his top lip dips under his nose, creating a perfectly, plump heart. But this is the closest I’ve ever come. “I dream about you, Noah. A lot. That has to mean something. Maybe the dreams are there to remind me of what I felt. To encourage me not to give up on something I’ve always wanted.”

I step up on my tippy toes, resting my head on his shoulder. His fingers are tangled in my hair, making me crazy. Do I do this? How can I not? I’ve laid it all out there, I can’t chicken out now.

“Mia?” His voice is deep, throaty, full of need.

“Yes?” I don’t move from the warmth of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you. Please tell me you won’t hate me if I kiss you.”

I lean back to look at him, his arms holding me against him.

“I won’t hate...”

He doesn’t give me time to finish. His mouth collides with mine. He grips chunks of my hair with one hand, a handful of my dress with the other. He parts my lips with his tongue, and when he caresses mine he’s soft and slow. The control in his pace surprises me—the two of us are obviously starving for each other. I fall under his spell and let him take the lead. That’s all I ever wanted.

Both hands cup my face now. He kisses the sides of my lips, before parting them again. This time he sucks on my tongue before dipping deeper, becoming more intense. Jesus Christ, this is everything I’ve ever imagined and so much more...it’s even better than the dreams.

I start to worry that I won’t be able to stop. Kissing is my limit and if he continues doing it, this well, the barrier will be broken. Thankfully, he reads my mind and breaks free, still holding my face in his large, rough hands. “We have to stop. Oh my God, you’re a married woman and all I want to do is bring you to my bed. We can’t...we...Shots! Let’s go do those shots.”





The rest of the night is a blur. I remember the first shot, and then Noah drinking water to sober up.

Not me. I kept the party going, even though I shouldn’t have. We danced. We talked. We laughed. We even kissed a little more. I search my brain to remember the rest, but I can’t.

God, the room is spinning. Wait, this is my room. How did I get here?

In my bed. Naked.





I’m trying hard to think of a lie.

A believable one.

There’s a house party tonight with no parents, no guardians...just a bunch of seniors and college kids and the few of us underclassmen who got lucky enough to be invited. Oh, and based on the track record of the host, there will be alcohol, drugs, and God knows what else. The scene I’m picturing is exactly why my parents have never gone away and left me home alone. It’s exactly why I need to lie. They would never allow it.

Even Grace is giving me lip about it, despite my efforts to get her to come along too.

“Mia, it’s a bad idea. You’re in over your head.”

I look back at Grace, past my own reflection in the mirror, then back at myself. I’m impressed with my new outfit—tight, boot cut jeans and a pink baby doll tee that shows just enough of my belly without making me look too eager. Even if that’s exactly what I am. Eager to fit in, to grow up, to experience it all. It surprises me that Grace isn’t on the same wave length.

“Grace, this party is about social acceptance. Don’t you want to be accepted?”

“This party is about peer pressure. Neither of us need to drink or smoke to be accepted. You have plenty of friends...is Lisa going? John? Kristen?”