Wrong Place, Right Time

by Elle Casey

  He’s grinding into me, but we’re in a terrible position for it. If he were a guy of normal height, it might have worked, but with him, it feels like somebody’s pressing a hammer into my stomach.

  I speak between kisses, my words coming out in gasps of breath. “Do you want to go to my room?”

  He stops all of a sudden and pulls away from me, leaning back so he can look me in the eye. “Do you?”

  I panic. Why is he asking me that? Does he not want to go that far? Did I read too much into his passionate embrace?

  I shrug. “Only if you do. We don’t have to. It’s fine if you want to stay here in the kitchen.” I look to my left. “In front of the refrigerator.”

  Next thing I know, my world is turning upside down. I let out a quick scream before I realize what’s happening. He’s holding me in his arms, and with his long strides we’re already halfway down the hallway.

  I start laughing like a maniac. “What are you doing?” My hair dangles in the air, hanging over his arm, and my legs are flopping around as I try to get upright.

  “You’re making me crazy. You think I don’t want to go to your bedroom? You’re nuts.” He swings me around the bottom of the stairs and accidentally clunks my head on the corner banister. Luckily it was more my hair hitting it than anything else, but the sound it makes is terrible.

  “Oh, shit! I’m so sorry!” He drops my legs and cradles my upper body in his arms while he looks down at me. “Are you okay? I can’t believe I just cracked your head. What an asshole.” He reaches around and rubs it enough to make my hair go into knots.

  I start laughing again, letting my head drop back. “Well, that’s one way to woo a woman—knock her unconscious and carry her up to her bedroom caveman style.”

  He swoops me up in his arms again, holding me like a baby but tighter this time. Now we’re both laughing as he runs up the stairs diagonally to keep from checking my cranium against the banister again.

  He stops at the top. “Which way?”

  “Left.” I’ve stopped laughing, and started whispering. I can’t believe we’re doing this. My heart is totally into it, but my head is worried. Am I making a mistake? Am I going to ruin everything by doing this?

  My bedroom doors fly open, and Dev plows through without hesitation. Three feet from the bed he launches me from his arms, and I go flying through the air. I scream and laugh the entire way. I’ve barely made contact with the mattress when he’s jumping onto the bed next to me.

  For two seconds, he looks like a real superhero—Superman, arms out and flying toward me. Unfortunately, I don’t have the nicest bed frame in the world, having purchased it at a bargain basement sale before I was married to Miles. When his giant body flops down on the left side of it, the entire thing cracks and collapses under his weight. The mattress shifts, rolling me sideways right into him.

  I scream in fright and surprise, and he yells right along with me. He’s falling too. We’re a tangle of arms and legs, and we’re headed right for the floor.

  “Oof!” he grunts out as he lands on the carpet on his back.

  I land on top of him, causing him to cough out a groan.

  I heard a crack as we were headed south. Looking up from my position on his chest, I catch him rubbing his head.

  “That’s gonna leave a mark.” Apparently, he hit his head pretty hard on my side table.

  “Oh my god. I can’t believe you just broke my bed.”

  He looks at me, and I look at him, and we both start laughing. Within seconds I’m hysterical. I have to roll off him and cross my legs to keep from peeing on my floor.

  I lie on my back, staring up at my ceiling with my legs crossed and my hands holding my crotch. A few latent snorts and giggles keep popping out so I don’t trust myself to let go yet. I cannot remember the last time I got this silly. Maybe never.

  Dev turns his head to look at me, and I do the same. We stare at each other for the longest time as our laughter dies down.

  “This has got to be the sexiest date you’ve ever had. Am I right?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  I start laughing all over again. I can’t help it. He called it a date! And he’s wacky, just like me.

  He props himself up on his side and looks at me for a little while. Then he opens his mouth to say something, but a buzzing sound cuts him off, and he loses the happy expression on his face.

  “What’s that?” I ask, my remaining laughter suffering a quick death.

  “It’s my phone.” Reaching down, he pulls his cell out of his pocket. Reading a text there, he immediately sits up.

  Dread fills me. “Is there something wrong?”

  He sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping down. “It’s my mom. I have to go.”

  It flashes through my mind that we’re once again a teen couple, stealing moments that we really don’t deserve to have. “Is everything okay with Jacob?”

  “I don’t think so. I think he’s cramping up. She wouldn’t ask me to come home otherwise.” He looks at me, his expression sad. “I’m really sorry.”

  I stand up suddenly and put my hand out for his. “Please don’t apologize. I completely get it. If my sitter called and told me there was something wrong with my kids, I’d be out of here like The Flash.”

  Dev takes my hands in his and stands. “This happens pretty often, though. It’s probably not an everyday thing for you.” He drops our contact and checks his phone again.

  I shake my head at him. “It doesn’t matter. We’re parents. We do what we have to do, right?” I pat his arm and then take his hand, not worrying about what he’ll think of me taking liberties. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

  He tugs on my hand, stopping me from leaving the room. I let him pull me up against him. We wrap our arms around each other, and he looks down at me. “I was seriously going to sex you up. So, you either just got really lucky, or really unlucky.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Maybe we’ll find out one day.”

  “Maybe.” He gives me a kiss that feels more like a goodbye kiss in its sterility, but I’m going to go ahead and hope it’s a we’ll-try-again-later kiss. We walk down the stairs together to the front door, and I open it for him. The only thing I can think right now is that tomorrow I have a date with a stranger that I really don’t want to go on.

  Dev detaches himself from me and walks out the front door. When he gets to his car he opens it up and says his last words to me. “You need to call me on Sunday.”

  “Okay. Why?” I want to hear him say that he can’t stand to be away from me, that he looks forward to hearing my voice, that he wants to be more than friends.

  “Because. You have a date on Saturday, and I want to hear all about it.”

  And just like that, my heart sinks like a stone all the way down to my toes. I try to keep my cheer going on, though, because I’m not a teenage girl anymore, and he’s a dad with stuff he has to do that doesn’t involve me. I’ve had my heart ripped to shreds before, and I know how this stuff goes. I can be brave. I can hang. I might even be able to have casual dates and casual sex with this guy, because he still wants me to date other people.

  I’m getting the message loud and clear now. We went out on a date, but we’re not in a relationship. A non-dating date of sorts. I guess we’re supposed to date other people and then talk about it together. This type of arrangement must be something new going on in the singles’ world that I missed out on while being married for ten years. I’m just going to have to adapt, if I want to have Dev in my life. And I do want that.

  “Okay!” I yell, sounding like a cheerleader on speed. “No problem! I want to hear all about your date too!”

  He gives me a thumbs-up and gets into his car.

  I shut the door and lean against it, willing the tears to go away. But of course, they don’t listen. I slowly walk up the stairs and indulge in my hurt feelings. Tonight, I will cry myself to sleep one more time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Getting ready f
or this evening is a bittersweet moment for me. It’s the real deal, not a non-dating date like I had with Dev, but I’m not exactly excited about going on it. I look at myself in the mirror, trying to lift my mood for the big event.

  “It’s only a drink,” I say out loud. “It doesn’t even need to be alcoholic. Coffee, if you want. You just need to get out there and pop your dating cherry.”

  Thinking about the cherry that I gave up to Miles long ago, and the fact that I was thinking for a little while last night that I was on my first real date in years, makes me get sad all over again.

  I frown at my reflection. “Stop that. You are not going to pine for a guy you had a fabulous time with! That’s ridiculous! Dev will be a great friend for you. Hell, he might even end up being a friend with benefits if you play your cards right.” I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Just relax. You’re a single woman, free to enjoy your life. You’ve had two nights in a row to go out without the kids. This is a special moment, and you’re not allowed to ruin it by worrying about every last stupid little thing.”

  Properly chastised, I force a smile and point at myself in the mirror. “That’s better. Remember: you da woman, Jenny. You da woman. Wonder Woman.”

  I’m wearing the same dress that I had on last night with Dev. I probably shouldn’t, because it still smells faintly of fried food, and it reminds me of his hands on me and us rolling around on my bedroom floor, but my budget wouldn’t allow for two new outfits, and my old clothes are too fugly to be worn on a real date. I bought May a pretty little sweater and myself this dress yesterday, along with a cheap pair of shoes that caught my eye and a sexy bra and panty set. The rest went into my savings account. I’m only on a trial basis with this new job, and still a little unsettled about whether I’ll be keeping it, so I need to watch my pennies. Besides, a little spritz of perfume will cover up that fried catfish scent in a jiffy. I double my usual dose, spraying enough perfume to gag a maggot and forcing myself to leave the confines of my bathroom.

  I check my watch. I have thirty minutes before this date is officially supposed to start. There were no new messages from my date, so I have to assume we’re still on. Is he feeling nervous like I am? Is he wondering where this will go? Or is he one of those guys who’s just looking for a quick roll in the hay?

  There was a place on the profile to say what you’re looking for, and I sure as heck didn’t put that I was looking for a one-night stand. Of course, I’m not silly enough to think that a guy wouldn’t go for that option if it were presented to him. But I’m not presenting that. The thing with Dev last night? When I brought him up to my bedroom? That was an anomaly. It won’t happen again. I’m not that kind of girl. Unless Dev wants it to happen. I might make an exception for him.

  I force my brain away from that line of thinking, refusing to let myself go down that path again. I need to focus, put my game face on. I’m going out on a real date with a perfect stranger who reminds me so much of Dev it’s uncanny. I reread his profile and it only solidified that feeling for me.

  I don’t want to show up early, but standing around my house, berating myself in the mirror, and dreaming of what can’t be with Dev isn’t getting me anywhere. It’s tempting to cancel this thing altogether, so I know I have to leave. Besides, it’s better if I’m gone by the time May gets back from the playground with the kids. They’ll whine about me leaving and then I’ll have a guilt trip to battle on top of my other worries.

  I get into my car and head toward the tavern. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, traffic willing. On the way there I let my mind wander, replaying the events of the night before. I wonder if Dev and I would’ve actually done the deed if his mom hadn’t called and he hadn’t destroyed my bed doing his superhero dive. I had to sleep on my mattress on the floor last night. I have no idea what I’m going to tell the kids when they ask me about it.

  Dev must weigh 250 pounds, maybe even 275, of pure muscle. He probably has to have a special bed at his house: extra long and extra strong. I get all hot and bothered just thinking about that. Long and strong. Big bed. Hmmm . . .

  “Stop that!” I look around me, almost hoping I’ll see a neon sign flashing on a nearby business saying, Get your dildos here! Special sale! Total anonymity guaranteed! Obviously I’ve gone way too long without sex, but what the hell, man . . . I’m a healthy woman. I’m practically at my peak, medically speaking. I should be having sex daily! This kind of frustration is to be expected.

  The lightbulb goes on above my head. That’s what my problem is! That’s why I’m falling in love with a guy I barely know! I need more sex! I have coitus on the brain. An affliction, almost. I’ll call it coitus-wantus-way-too-muchus. And it’s getting in the way of my normal cognitive processes. It would explain everything.

  Maybe this guy I meet tonight will be cute. That picture he put up on his profile was pretty nice. Dev says that everybody Photoshops their photos or uses old ones from when they were younger, but even if this guy is older than he appeared, he’s probably the kind of guy who gets better with age. Maybe we’ll hit just the right vibe together, and he’ll proposition me, and I’ll be like, Sure, I’d love to have sex with you tonight. I’m free, I’m open to new things. I’m a risk-taking, adventurous type, living purely for the moment. Ha! My palms are sweating just imagining it. No way am I going to pull this off.

  As I drive into the tavern’s parking lot I’m feeling pretty good, all things considered. I look down at my dress, enjoying the way it hugs my waist and flares out at my hips. My hair is cooperating, its natural waves framing my face, and my makeup is perfect—not too much and not too little, with a slightly smoky lid. Dev seemed to find me pretty irresistible in this getup. Maybe I have more options than I thought. I get out of the car with a big grin on my face. Denial can be awesomely powerful when used in moderation.

  I check my phone just to be sure there are no texts from May. She’ll be getting a very special reward for being my babysitter two nights in a row, because I know my kids are driving her crazy. They drive me crazy after two nights in a row, and I gave birth to the little buttheads.

  I send her a quick text, just to let her know how much I appreciate her efforts.

  Me: Thank u so much. Ur my hero.

  She answers right away.

  May: Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

  I smile but don’t reply. Her statement leaves the field wide open. I’ve heard the stories about her and Ozzie and their escapades. Time to get your sexy on, girl. I walk up to the entrance of the tavern, swinging my hips a little more than usual. I feel amazing. I am going to own this place.

  The front door is scarred and slightly warped wood, welcoming me to a place that I’ve enjoyed hanging out in before. This used to be where Miles and I would come, before we had kids, to enjoy a beer and a game on the television above the bar. This place is where my good memories are kept, so I have a special sense of confidence glowing inside my heart when I grab the handle and pull it toward me.

  Cool air and the smell of stale beer hit me first. I might be a little overdressed tonight, but my complexion is flawless for once, and for the first time in a long while I’m actually wearing nail polish and a bra-and-panty set that match. I hope this guy appreciates all my efforts, because tomorrow it’s all coming off and I’m going back to being a geek mom in jeans and sneakers, with cotton polka-dot underwear and a racer-back sports bra. Tonight, though? Watch out. I’m a vixen with all the fixin’s.

  As a special treat, I decide right then and there to take the kids for a picnic in the park tomorrow. They’ve been really patient with me, and they haven’t complained one bit about not having me with them two nights in a row. That’s a big change for them, and with Miles and his new girlfriend on the scene I should keep my children’s lives as consistent as possible. This has been my selfish weekend, but tomorrow it will be all about them.

  My mind is now clear of any guilt, and I am ready to partay. I scan the backs of the people
sitting on stools around the bartop, hoping that the man with the blue shirt will be there so I won’t have to stand here looking all alone for too long.

  At first, I don’t see him. But then, in the shadows of the tavern’s back corner, I catch a hint of blue. I think he’s there, with a mug of beer in his hand. He’s staring at me like he knows me. And he’s really tall. Freakishly so.

  My heart skips one beat, and then another. I begin to tremble as my eyes take in the details of the man in the blue shirt. I whisper to myself when it becomes apparent that my night is about to go right in the terlet. Oh my god. This can’t be happening to me right now! It’s Dev, and he’s here to witness my shame.

  And then an even more awful thought: Is he my date?

  He can’t be. He was sitting right there next to me at the computer when I clicked on his profile. I saw his picture, and I saw the picture of the man I’m here to meet, and it was most definitely not Dev’s.

  I take a moment to let the awful sink in. We’re going to have our first dates in the same place, with each other as witnesses. What a disaster! When he asked me where I was going I should’ve just told him! Why did I decide that flirting and playing hard to get were a good idea?

  Destiny must really have it in for me. It’s the only explanation for what’s happening here. There’re over a thousand bars in this town, and he could’ve chosen any one of them, but he’s here! In my bar! Dammit!

  I recognize the expression on his face as the one that’s probably reflected on mine. He’s confused, but then it’s as if he’s seeing something funny.

  I’m so embarrassed. He’s laughing at me! He’s probably noticed that I’m wearing the same dress that I wore last night. What does that say about me? Probably nothing good. He’s wearing a different shirt. Maybe he has on the same pants, but this shirt is definitely blue and the one he wore last night was yellow.

  My eyes scan the crowd again. There’s another guy wearing a blue shirt here, but he’s got to be in his seventies. I don’t think it’s legal to Photoshop your picture that much.