Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
The kiss lasted a full minute, gentle yet insistent. When I drew back, she licked her lips, tasting the remnants of the moment. Exhaustion returned to her gaze almost instantly.
“Good night,” I said.
“Good night.” She grinned, heading back toward the parking lot.
I watched her go, still marveling that in this world it was safe for an unarmed person to walk alone. Afghanistan seemed like a different reality—one that I was finally coming to realize was over for me.
10
ALY
Idrove home barely able to keep my eyes open. It was a good feeling and left me with hope that I might be able to get some sleep. As soon as I fell into bed, however, my mind started turning. It revisited my ex and all his drama, the restaurant and how hard every day had been, and the embarrassment of quitting. I tried to calm down, but my heart started racing. I opened my eyes, now fully awake.
Familiar with the sensation, I pulled on a sweatshirt and my sneakers and went outside to sit on my lawn chair. Dawn was coming to the forest. The birds were waking up and singing, hopping across the underbrush and flitting through the trees. Light was beginning to saturate the horizon.
I drifted off finally in the chair. I had time for one dream, and thankfully, it wasn’t about the restaurant. I found Lincoln in our old chemistry classroom back in high school. He looked as he did now, complete with the buzz cut and injured leg. I was my old awkward teenaged self, but he didn’t care. We danced around the room, neatly avoiding the islands with their Bunsen burners.
Before I knew it, daylight filtered into my subconscious mind, waking me from the brief, yet much-needed rest. I yawned and stretched, then realized that I might be late. Checking my phone, I relaxed again. It was Saturday. I didn’t have to be in the office until eleven. It was nine thirty, which meant I had gotten almost five hours of sleep. That was pretty good for me.
I climbed off the chair, moseying inside to make myself some coffee. After a shower, I combed my hair out, deciding to let it air dry instead of fussing with the blow dryer. I still ate cereal for breakfast, even though I was an adult. I liked the sugary chocolate puffs with the cartoons on the box. I didn’t know why, but it made me happy.
I poured myself a bowl and sat down to eat, considering last night’s kiss. It hadn’t been entirely unexpected but I couldn’t believe it happened. For more than a decade, I had wondered what it would be like to make out with Lincoln Matthews. He was my biggest regret from high school. Why hadn’t I found the courage to talk to him back then? Had I thought he would reject me? Would he have rejected me?
His return to Singer’s Ridge had sparked all kinds of emotions I didn’t want to face. There was anger, disappointment, longing, and a new one that had developed in the years since—lust. Apparently, I had made no secret of my feelings, and he had understood. Our connection was real and it was deep. The kiss had been magnificent, far better than any other kiss in my adult life.
I wanted to wrap my body around his and climb to the heights of pleasure. I knew without experience that his chest would be firm, his arms strong, and his leg up to the task. I wondered how his cock would feel, sliding deep into my most intimate passage. That image shocked me awake, and I shook my head to clear it.
If thoughts could summon actions, I didn’t want him to know that I was fantasizing about him that way. It seemed crude and disrespectful. I was grateful to be alone in my kitchen without a witness.
I groaned and rubbed my forehead. The kiss was one thing, but I couldn’t go around having sex him in my imagination. What if he saw me? He had known that I wanted to kiss him and had granted my request. What if he read the lust on my face and gave in to that too?
That embarrassing thought only led to more fantasies. Lincoln and me in the break room, on my desk, out in the lumberyard between cords of wood.
I spent so much time arguing with myself that I wasn’t able to enjoy the amorous imagery my brain conjured up. I would have to go to work in a few minutes and face him. I wanted to be in complete control, but I was far from it. My baser needs were simmering just below the surface. It wouldn’t take much for me to lose composure, and I hoped I wouldn’t make a fool of myself.
I ran out of time and went to get dressed. It took me longer than usual. Every outfit I tried on, I evaluated through the lens of “what would Lincoln think?” Most of my clothes were drab and hung loosely to conceal my figure rather than enhance it. Staring at myself in the mirror, I felt like an old librarian.