Flirting With Forty

by S. L. Romines

  Taking each step with purpose, Ozella finally hands over her weapon of gonad destruction. “If he uses my towel again, I will duct tape his butt to the wall, tie off his huevos and call him Vivica.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Hiding. As he should be.”

  “You guys are killin’ me,” I say as I take another much-needed breath. “You both need to chill.”

  I watch as Ozella throws her hand up in the air and slowly turns to walk to the bathroom. “I cannot make any promises, Mother.”

  I love my kids but I’m seriously considering looking into professional help. Not for them. For me. And wine. Lots and lots and lots of wine.

  “Is it gone?”

  I look down the hall and see Vincent peeking his head around the corner, his eyes going crazy in all directions as he watches for his sister.

  “She went to the shower, and by the way, you really need to control your level of buttholishness toward your sister.”

  “Me?” Vincent asks as he jabs his thumb against his chest. “Have you seen her lately? And in my defense, Mom, I did not use her towel on my junk.”

  “Then why is she getting so upset, Vincent?”

  “I dunno,” he replies with a shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, I may or may not have run it under my pits because they were wet.”

  I blow out an exasperated breath and shake my head. “For the love of all that is sane, please do not use her stuff again. Got it?”

  “Fine. But keep Nutty McNutterson away from me,” Vincent replies as he heads back toward his bedroom before stopping at the door. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I made the football team and we start practices on Monday. Coach seems pretty cool, too.”

  I’m momentarily thankful that the kids’ extracurricular activities at school are finally starting up. With Vincent playing football and Ozella starting cheerleading, it’ll keep them both busy for a few months.

  Before I make it to my bedroom, the doorbell rings. My heart immediately starts to go wonky and my stomach bottoms out. He’s here! Shit! My breaths come out a little jagged. I’m panicking. Wonderful. I might need a Xanex or five to get through this evening, and right about now, I could kill Sam for inviting him.

  When I hear voices coming from downstairs, sweat begins to dot my upper lip.

  “Nina!” Sam’s voice grates my nerves as it travels up the stairs. “Get your rear end down here. You’ve got company!”

  Thoughts of choking out my best friend flash behind my lids as I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I smooth my hands down the front of my jeans. The last time I remember being this nervous was at Johnny Baker’s sixteenth birthday party when he ran his hands up my top for a quick feel. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t had the stomach flu and ultimately threw up all over his feet right before he copped a feel.

  I slip into the bathroom and toss my hair up into a semi-messy bun before giving myself a once-over. When I’m satisfied with the end result, I head out of the bathroom and reluctantly make my way downstairs. Giggles and a few adolescent threats flit around the corner as my feet hit the last three steps. My ovaries nearly combust when my eyes finally land on my hunky new neighbor.

  Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Is it possible that he’s gotten even more gorgeous since his hunt for the elusive Ding Dongs the other day? I’ll ding your dong, buddy. I’ll ding it all the way to the creamy center. Oh, fuck yeah.

  A throat clearing shakes me from the perverted thoughts of my sexy neighbor. I tear my gaze away from his spectacular biceps and meet a familiar pair of beautiful eyes that I remember so clearly as my mouth dries up like a bag of cotton balls.

  “Hey there.”

  Yep. A voice of pure silk and sin. All kinds of dirty, sinful sin.

  “Miles, right?”

  Nothing at this moment, and I mean not a damn thing, can defuse the party I’ve got going on in my pants right now.

  “That’s right, and you’re Nina. A beautiful name for a very beautiful woman.”

  Even the way he says my name makes me want to lay at his feet and go full-on spread eagle. And just when I think things can’t get any more uncomfortable, the entire room freezes when a singular noise leaves my body. A snort. It never fails. Every time I receive a compliment from a man, I tend to snort but this one is different. It’s deep. It’s throaty. It’s nasally and when it erupts, it causes some very unwanted attention. Every set of eyes are now on me, and the one person I wish wasn’t aware of my idiocy smiles the same sexy, crooked grin he flashed me during our grocery store run-in.

  “Oh my god, Mom, did you just snort? Geez, can’t take you anywhere.” I cut my eyes toward Vincent as he gives Miles a quick fist bump and then does some weird arm movement. “What are you doing here, Coach?”

  Coach? As in, Vincent’s new football coach, Coach? Ah, shit.

  “I was invited to dinner.”

  “That’s cool. Isn’t that awesome, Mom? Coach lives next door. That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, Mom,” Sam says with an exaggerated wink. “Isn’t that cool?”

  As I look over at Miles, my stomach begins to flip and flop. “Yeah, that’s… fantastic.”

  If I wasn’t aware that I’d just turned forty, I’d swear that I was that same fifteen-year-old girl with a mouth full of braces pining over Johnny Baker before I decorated his new Nike’s with my lunch.

  “So, Miles, what brings you to Cherry Hill?” Sam asks as she pulls a few beers out of the refrigerator. “New job? Divorce? Stalker? Leave your wife and kids because you’re on the run for money laundering?”

  “Sam!”

  “What, Nina?” Sam cuts her eyes at me. “My life sucks. I need some excitement and I’m counting on Miles over here to toss me a damn bone.”

  “Babe! Can you bring me another cold one?”

  Sam’s nostrils flare when her husband calls out to her. She hisses under breath. “Do you think it’s possible to claim temporary insanity or even claim it was an accident if I clock him upside the head with a cast-iron skillet? With my eyes closed? Couldn’t hurt to try, right?”

  I glance up at Miles and give him an awkward ‘I’m so fucking sorry you’re being subjected to this lunacy’ grin just as a high-pitched screech barrels through the patio door. Vincent. I’m pretty sure Ozella’s dancing on his ribs right about now.

  “I think you broke my balls you crazy hyena!”

  “Good! You deserved it! I told you to steer clear of my diary, didn’t I?”

  I close my eyes and silently count to ten. I’m pretty sure when I reopen them, Miles will be halfway across my front lawn on a mad dash to his own house and far, far away from Crazyville.

  “After you?”

  I look up at the brave, beautiful soul and smile because any man that offers to confront the current level of adolescent chaos in my back yard head-on is an absolute keeper in my book.

  “Welp.” I place my hand on top of his. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Chapter Four

  “I had a good time tonight. Thanks for having me over.”

  I swallow hard, release a ragged breath and try to avoid making eye contact with my new neighbor. Being this close to him has my heart beating a little faster and my palms a little sweatier.

  “Well, technically I invited you,” Sam cuts in as she clears the table. “And you’re welcome by the way.”

  With a small smile playing on my lips and my eyes cast to the floor, I can feel Miles’ gaze on me, and I’m thankful when Sam interrupts whatever this is as a deafening awkwardness swirls around us.

  “So, Miles, got any brothers? Cousins? Brother’s friend’s cousins? Anything. Anything at all. I’m not picky.”

  I look over at Sam and then quickly over at her husband. I totally expect him to give her some snarky remark or at the very least some kind of look declaring his slight disdain for his wife’s inquisition, but there’s nothing. Nothing at all. Snoring. That’s what he’s doing. Sawing big ass logs right on my couch with his mo
uth wide open like he owns the damn joint.

  “How does he do that?”

  “What’s that?” Sam asks without looking up at me as she finishes off her fourth Midori Sour. “Oh, are you referring to my husband’s fuck-awesome ability to sleep through anything? Even two bickering teenagers? Is that what you’re referring to?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Miles trying to suppress a smile with his eyes closed and his lips pressed together.

  “I’m sorry.” I lean in a little closer. “They haven’t been good for a while now.”

  As a sliver of heat radiates across my pinkie finger, I’m hyperaware that Miles is touching me. My skin begins to prickle with goosebumps, and all I want is more. More of this. More of him. Just more.

  My breath becomes unsteady as when Miles slowly drags his fingertip down the inside of my forearm. A delicious shiver runs along my spine, as my gaze slowly slides down to my side. With each stroke of his fingertip, need takes a front seat.

  “Oh, god.”

  The words barely come out a whisper when Miles doesn’t stop at my wrist but continues to drag his fingertip down to the center of my palm.

  “Mm.”

  Just as he begins to interlace our fingers, reality bites me in the ass.

  “Really?”

  I blink away the proverbial fog and pull in a small, ragged breath.

  “You two look like a couple of clueless, horny teenagers. Please do us all a favor and get a room.”

  I’m currently having a bit of déjà vu from that one time when Danny Marks tried to give me my first kiss at our eighth grade Valentine’s dance. That whole situation was a hot mess. For thirty minutes we stood there with a huge crowd around us waiting for the big event. Needless to say, the big event never happened. I ran out of the auditorium like I had a fire lit under my ass and threw up in the bushes from sheer panic.

  “Hey, Mom, you in the kitchen?” The sound of Sebastian’s voice causes a bit of panic to crawl up my spine. My oldest son has been very vocal about his father’s and my divorce. The level of disdain he feels for Chase is off the charts, but the level of concern he has for me topples that by leaps and bounds. He’s expressed his apprehension about me getting involved with another man multiple times without any reservation about how his feelings might affect mine. “I got you a…”

  The silence is thick, and I can feel sweat begin to form above my lip.

  “A cheesecake.” Sebastian’s brow raises as he looks between Miles and me and then down at our hands. “Hey, how’s it going? I’m Sebastian.”

  As much as I love my children and appreciate their opinions and their input on our family as a whole, any decisions made about my love life, even though up to this point has been non-existent, are ultimately mine to make. I watch as an awkward handshake ensues between Miles and my eldest child. It almost feels like we’ve just been caught by the parental units, on the verge of making out like some crazy lovesick teenagers.

  “I’m Miles. I just moved in next door.”

  I watch with rapt attention as Sebastian’s wheels begin to turn, most likely trying to figure out if Miles is a douchebag or not. As soon as he nods his head, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

  “Alright,” Sebastian says, smiling down at me and then looking back at Miles. “Good to meet you, Miles, and welcome to Cherry Hill.”

  “Good to meet you, too.”

  Just as Sebastian begins to head out of the kitchen, he stops short of the hallway and turns to face my sexy new neighbor.

  “Oh, and if you break my mom’s heart, I’ll break your face.” Sebastian’s smile is as big as his heart as he slaps the wall with the palm of his hand and heads down the hallway. “Take it easy, Miles!”

  There are those damn crickets again.

  “I should get going.” My stomach drops when Miles moves his hand away from mine. “Need to get some more unpacking done.”

  And so it begins. Regret.

  “Sure. Absolutely.” I nod my head, swallow hard and quickly recognize the bitter taste of rejection. “I’ll walk you out.”

  As we head out the door, Miles and Sam say their goodbyes. He wishes her the best and Sam threatens his life if he hurts me. Typical Sam. She’s always been that way with me. When we were kids, she tried protecting me from every bully and every would-be heart breaker in our neighborhood. Sam has truly been my person going on thirty years now and I don’t know what I would have ever done without her friendship.

  “Sorry about that. Sam’s always been a bit protective…”

  My words are cut short when Miles reaches for my hand and gently slips his fingers inside my palm. It’s not every day that a man can stun me silent. Even when I first met Chase, I was all flapping gums with a lot to talk about. Maybe it was nerves or maybe it was because he didn’t say much so I felt that I needed to step up to the plate and take control. Whatever it was, I couldn’t shut up. But with Miles? Just one brooding look and I’m all butterflies on the inside and full-on body twitching on the outside.

  I start to pull in breath after breath as Miles closes the distance between us. The breeze outside is a little cooler tonight, but the sweat forming above my brow begs to differ. I instinctively move backward until my back hits the side of my house. I’m trapped. He’s got me. I’m easy pickings, ripe for the taking, ready to be owned, needy for the meaty, ready for the floggers and the fluffy handcuffs.

  “Please take me to your red room of pain!”

  And this right here is exactly why I’m still single, folks, this and...

  “Oh my god, Mom, get a room!” Ozella shouts.

  “Ew! Not my coach!” Vincent shrieks along with a few gagging noises.

  “Yep, I think I’m going to need that brain bleach now,” Sebastian says with a shake of his head.

  When I hear my kids nearly lose their shit, I die a little on the inside from sheer embarrassment. I’ve probably damaged them for life seeing as they just heard me beg the neighbor to take me to his sex lair.

  “What the hell’s with all the yelling?”

  As if things couldn’t get any worse…

  “Oh, see that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Get it, girl. Get that dickcicle!”

  I close my eyes and wish to be anywhere but where I am right about now.

  “I’m sorry. This was…” I look up at Miles and see regret wash over his face and my guts slam to the pit of my stomach. “I gotta go.”

  Before I can interject and tell our audience to get lost, Miles is already across the street, retreating inside his house and quickly shutting the front door behind him.

  I let out a sigh and hang my head in defeat. As I come to the realization that my vagina will forever be a deep, sad, barren, cavernous wasteland that’ll probably never be stuffed with another meaty joystick again, I walk back inside my house, grab a bottle of Rosé, head to my office, locking the door behind me, and power up my laptop to write the steamiest sex I’ve ever put to paper.

  Silver linings, ya’ll. It’s all about those damn silver linings.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m not going to school.”

  I let out a long sigh as I stand in my daughter’s doorway. It’s unlike Ozella to stay home from school. Even when she’s sick, the girl takes her contaminated rear end to school and subjects every other parent’s child to her nasties.

  “Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

  “No. I just want to wither away in my bed all day.”

  “Well, I need to know what’s going on, Oz, so I can help you.”

  “My vagina hurts.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “I have a huge bump on top of it and it’s killin’ me. Like, I think I’m dying.”

  “You’re not dying, weirdo. It’s probably just an ingrown hair. Go ahead and stay home but wear some loose pajama bottoms and place a pillow between your knees. You should be good in a few days. I’ll get you a warm compress.”

  “
Oh my god, it hurts so bad.”

  I let out another sigh and walk over to my daughter’s bed. I run my hand across the top of her head and smile down at her. “I know, sweetie, but it’ll be okay.”

  “You did this to me, woman,” she said with a long, drawn-out groan. “You cursed my body with a funked-out vagina.”

  “Really, Ozella? All that?”

  “Yes, really. My cursed lady tunnel is so fricken’ mad that it didn’t end up as a penis, its growing balls now! Lady nuts! Now all I need is a huge donker and it’ll be on and crackin’.”

  From the doorway, I hear a gagging noise and turn to see Vincent standing there with his cellphone haphazardly pointed in the room.

  “As grossed out as I am right now about Crazola’s lady biscuits, I’m totally saving this for blackmail.”

  “I’m gonna throat punch you when I get out of this bed, Vin!”

  “Vincent, if you’d like to keep your boy bits intact, I suggest you erase that little snippet of your sister’s situation off of your phone,” I warn before turning to my daughter.

  “I’m still a firm believer that you dropped that one on his head instead of Sebastian,” Ozella says.

  “For your information, it was an accident. I did not mean to drop Sebastian.”

  For all of you wondering about what my daughter is referring to, let me take you on another little trip down Memory Lane.

  1997

  “Make sure you don’t fall asleep in that chair with the baby in your arms.”

  “I’m good, Mom. I’m just gonna watch a little TV and then I’ll head to bed.”

  “Alright. Just make sure you don’t.”

  I hadn’t realized that I’d passed out until I woke up to some dumbass infomercial playing a little too loudly. But it was when I heard a soft chirping-like noise on the floor next to me that I became a little concerned that a bird had somehow flown in the house in the middle of the night and took up residence in the living room. When I sat up and started to stretch my arms above my head, that’s when the chirping turned into a full-blown baby’s cry.