#18 Be strong, Shaughna
“So, did it work?” Dshawn is leaning against his motorcycle with a smirk on his face.
We’re in the parking lot ten minutes before my shift starts, and we just got of his bike. He put his helmet on the steering wheel, and is now looking at me like he wants to devour me whole.
“Did what work?” I ask, refusing to bite quite yet.
He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you horny again?”
I roll my eyes and push my helmet into his hands. “You wish.”
“Yes,” he agrees with a wicked smile. “I really do.”
Before I can react, he grabs my arm and pulls me to him. I try to pull back, but he keeps a firm grip on me.
“Relax,” he breathes into my ear. “I’m not going to kiss you. We’re just two friends, hugging goodbye.”
That promise has me leaning into him, feeling more at ease. I had a very hot dream of him last night and I was already horny before I even got onto his motorcycle, so if he were to kiss me right now, I wouldn’t know how to stop going once we got started.
“Hmm, you smell good,” he says, inhaling as he presses his face into my hair. “Your hair is so soft.”
“It’s called shampoo and conditioner,” I say, rolling my eyes again.
“Smart-ass.” He lets go of me, smiling when I don’t step away from him right away, lingering for a moment too long, causing him to pull me back into another hug. “I stayed up for hours after we talked on the phone,” he tells me so softly that I’m not even sure if I’m not just imagining it. “I almost called you again, like, fifty times.”
I smile into his coat, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Good thing you didn’t, because I was sound asleep and I don’t like it when people wake me up.”
“No, you weren’t,” he says knowingly. “I could see that you were online long after we hung up the phone.”
Damn. He’s right. I typed and deleted messages to him for a long time, ranging from telling him to never call me again to begging him to fuck me. Most were somewhere in between. None of them were sent, of course.
“Fine,” I grunt. “You’re too distracting, Dshawn Davis.”
He laughs when I use his full name. “I could say the same about you, Shaughna Elmore.”
When we break apart, I step away immediately. I’m not going to kiss him. Not here in the parking lot, two minutes before my shift starts. He winks at me and puts his helmet back on, hopping onto his bike. Again, I wonder how it’s possible that Caroline let this muscular biker god walk out of her life without putting up a fight.
“I’m having a party this weekend,” he says just when I turn away from him. “And you’re coming.”
“Sure,” I agree easily. “Text me the details.”
He nods and with that, he’s off, leaving me standing there in the parking lot staring after him once again. When I turn around, I see Hollister a few feet away from me, smirking.
“Got yourself another plaything?” he asks as he walks with me to the backdoor of the restaurant. “At least he looks older than your last guy. How old was he? 16?”
I just ignore him, pushing into the kitchen to greet Kieran. Hollister is not worthy of my time. I put my stuff away and tie on my apron to join the other two waitresses up front. They greet me with tired smiles. Yeah, the breakfast shift is a fun one… not. At least I didn’t have to be here earlier than 7. In return for pulling so many double shifts and filling in whenever someone gets sick, I hardly ever get the early prep shift that starts way before 7. I hate getting up that early.
This morning, I am more awake than anyone else in the place, because Dshawn got adrenaline and I don’t know what sort of other hormones and stuff pumping through my body like crazy. When I get a break after a few hours, I text him, just to say hi. He replies right away with a picture of his desk, where three screens are on, with a cup of coffee in front of it. The mug has a picture of him on it, an old one, where he has curly black hair instead of the short trim he prefers nowadays.
I like your hair like that, I text him.
I don’t, he responds right away. Your hair is so much better.
It’s the shampoo, I shoot back.
And the conditioner, he replies. I don’t want to wait until my party Saturday to see you.
Then don’t, I reply before I can overthink this. Caroline told us that we could go for it after all, and I know I won’t be able to think about anyone but him anyway.
Tomorrow, he sends back. Let’s go clubbing.
Hmm. That sounds like fun. I tell him to meet me at my place around midnight, already excited at the prospect of dancing with him.
Going dancing was both a wonderful and a horrible idea. I promised myself to take things slow and make sure that by the end of the night, I’d have nothing to feel guilty about towards Caroline. But I guess I forgot about a few little things.
A: I drink when I go out and when I drink, my inhibitions tend to disappear.
B: Dshawn is a damn good dancer, making me want him even more than when he was leaning against his motorcycle.
C: It’s just the two of us, so there are no other friends to distract from just how much we want each other.
D: Dancing involves a lot of grinding on each other.
As his hands move down to my ass and I feel him grow hard against me, I know that this was possibly the worst thing to do when I’m trying to make up my mind if he is worth risking Caroline’s wrath for. Right now, I’m just so damn buzzed from the shots we’ve been doing and he feels so good against me that I don’t even care. When he lowers his face to mine, I don’t hesitate to tilt my head to the side and kiss him.
I don’t know why, but kissing him is something I don’t think I could ever grow tired of. He’s hungry, but also tender. Dominating, but still responsive when I change the pace or pull back to playfully bite lip. We kiss for such a long time that I forget that we’re dancing, forget that he’s supposed to be off limits. My lips are swollen when he finally pulls back and I smile when I see that my red lipstick is now smeared all over his face.
“Fuuuuuuck,” he says in my ear over the music. “Go home with me.”
I shake my head and reach up to wipe the lipstick off of him. Even drunk, I know that going home with him is not a smart idea. I don’t want to rush into this. As soon as we fuck, this will get real and we will grow tired of each other. I don’t want that. Not yet.
We start dancing again, which soon turns to kissing, which leads to him asking me to come home with him again. By the end of the night, we’re both so sexually frustrated that I almost say yes, but I manage to remain in control.
“Bye,” I say huskily when he opens the door of my uber for me.
“Just let me get in with you,” he pleads for the millionth time. “Do we really need two separate cars?”
“Yes,” I insist. Once he gets in the car with me, there is no way I will be able to say no when we pull up to my apartment. Or his, for that matter. This is my last chance at a way out.
“Okay,” he agrees with a grunt. “Fucking tease.”
I laugh, knowing fully well that he’s just riling me up. He leans down to kiss me one last time before shutting the door and slamming his hand on the roof to signal that the driver can take off. My phone buzzes a few seconds later and I smile when I see it’s him. Already.
I wish I had spent more time getting to know you back in college.
Yes, I reply, but then we wouldn’t just have had this night. And I liked this night.
Me too, he texts back immediately.
I smile to myself and scroll through my other messages and group texts, smiling at the funny pictures Francesca send me. Caroline texted me as well, but it’s just to tell me that she’s looking forward to seeing me at New Year’s to dance the night away. I know that I need to tell her about me and Dshawn, but I don’t want to do it over the phone. New Year’s is still two weeks away, so I just have to make sure that I don’t do anything stupid before then. Kissing him is one thing – she already knows that I kissed him, just not how many times – but sleeping with him without telling her… no, I can’t do that. I just can’t.
Be strong, Shaughna.