Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Anna

I kissed him. He kissed me. We kissed. A lot. Those few sentences play on repeat in my head the entire drive home like some kind of bizarre mantra.

The whole evening almost feels like an out-of-body experience. Who was that grinding on his lap on the beach? And by the fire?

It was me? How is that even possible?

And he wants to see me again tomorrow.

When I park my car in front of my apartment, I press my hands to my flaming cheeks for a moment before I climb out and go upstairs, still a little dazed.

I still can't believe I kissed him before I left. Like not that we kissed, we'd done that enough by then that him kissing me wasn't surprising. But the fact that I reached up and pulled his face to mine. After knowing the man for twenty-four hours.

God, it took weeks before I initiated a kiss with Jared.

Who is this woman who's taken over my body? And how is she so comfortable with a practical stranger so quickly?

The truth is, as astonished as I am by my behavior, I don't regret a second of it. I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

You'll get to tomorrow .

A grin spreads across my face as I close my door behind me and slip off my shoes, pulling out my phone to send a text to Troy as requested.

Made it home.

Troy

Glad to hear it. See you tomorrow.

I stare at his text for longer than necessary, reading it a few times before finally heading to my bedroom. I'm not ready for sleep yet. I have too much pent-up energy for that.

When I start to pull out fresh pajamas, I realize I smell like a campfire, so instead I move to the bathroom and turn on the shower. After undressing and tossing my clothes in the hamper, I brush out my hair. Standing in front of the mirror, I stop and take a minute to really look at my body. Slim shoulders. Full, pink-tipped breasts. Waist nipping in below my rib cage before rounding out to full hips. Classic hourglass but with a very short waist and big enough boobs that it makes finding flattering tops a bit of a challenge. After Brit's mini styling tutorial the other night, I realize that most of my tops are on the boxy side, and according to her, I need shoulders that fit and waist emphasis so I don't look like I'm drowning in my clothes. "Of the two, waist emphasis is the most important," she said after telling me to knot my button-down shirt at my waist. Which was also why she had me wear a shirt tied around my waist tonight. It's cute and sporty and a practical layering piece after the sun goes down, but also shows off my curves more.

And even though I'd felt somewhat uncomfortable with her advice at first, it's because I'm so used to hiding. Even my wardrobe is evidence of that—shapeless clothes in neutral colors that make it easy for people to look past me.

"But I don't want to hide anymore," I whisper to my reflection. And I have a nice body, if I look at it objectively and ignore the remnants of Jared's voice in my head that tries to tell me I should lose weight, and why can't I be as thin as I was when we first met? And if I just worked out more or ate less or …

But I don't want to eat less. I eat a reasonably balanced diet that includes the occasional treat. Though I have to admit that taking the canoe out was an enjoyable way to move. Maybe I should make more of an effort to go for walks or some of the easy hikes in the area now that it's nice out. Because it feels good to move and be active and it's good for my health, not because there's something wrong with my body as it is.

And Troy seemed to like my body just fine. Heat rises to my cheeks as I remember very vividly how the evidence of his liking felt between my legs. One hand slips down my body, and I widen my stance so I can caress myself between my legs, my blush growing brighter at the slightly voyeuristic experience of watching my reflection as I touch myself.

Seized by the need to relieve the ache that I've reawakened between my thighs with my own touch combined with the memory of Troy's, I step back into my bedroom, yank open the drawer of my bedside table, grab my favorite waterproof vibe, and head for the shower.

I draw it out, though. Not giving into the need for release right away. Instead, I take my time washing my hair and body, paying attention to the sensual pleasure of the hot water running down my body, the feel of my hands gliding over my skin as I wash and rinse, none of the usual perfunctory ablutions intended only to get me clean. No, this is much more than simple hygiene.

Pinching my nipples, I gasp, then reach for the vibrator. Propping one leg on the edge of the tub, I turn it on, but I've teased myself enough that I can't handle more. I put it right on my clit, rubbing in small circles, turning it up when I need more, and in almost no time, I'm gasping and shuddering with the release, wondering what it would've been like if Troy could've participated.

Will I find out tomorrow?

"Good, you're finally here!" Brit exclaims, standing from the picnic table she's claimed outside of Stephanie's Creperie.

I check my phone, noting that it's exactly eleven o'clock. "I'm not late," I protest.

She waves that away, reaching for a hug. "I know. But I'm horribly impatient. I've been dying to know what happened last night since you called me beforehand." Making shooing motions with her hands, she says, "Hurry up and order. Then come tell me everything."

Unable to hold in my nervous laughter, I pat her on the back, then step away from her hug. "Okay, okay. Give me a sec."

"No stalling!" she calls after me, wagging a finger like a stern mother.

Still laughing, I get in line to order a crepe, grateful for the opportunity to look at the menu without being accused of stalling. I'm hungry, though, so I don't want to stall either.

When it's my turn, I order the berry surprise, which comes with seasonal berries, whipped cream, and a dusting of powdered sugar, grabbing a fork and napkins when I step off to the side to wait for my food.

Brit's practically bouncing in her seat when I return, compostable box in hand. Since she got here early, she's nearly finished with her food—a savory crepe stuffed with scrambled eggs, cheese, and bacon crumbles, topped with a drizzle of maple syrup.

I nod to hers. "That looks delicious."

"It is," she answers perfunctorily. "Now. How was last night?" Her voice is sly and singsongy on the question, and I can't help giggling. "Oooh. That good, huh?" She props her chin on her hand, waiting for me to answer.

Rolling my eyes, I stuff a bite in my mouth and nod. Brit might be dying to hear about my evening with Troy, but I'm hungry, and I'm also still not sure exactly how much I'm ready to divulge. "I mean, we didn't have a whole lot of time alone," I say around my mouthful, holding my hand in front of my mouth as I chew.

Brit's eyes sparkle with delight, but she doesn't say anything, giving me the time and space to share as much as I'm willing to, but with the way she's rolling her lips between her teeth, I can tell she's dying to pepper me with questions.

I tell her the broad strokes of the evening—the canoe ride, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows with his teammate's family, how adorable he is with the kids, and then how they left to give us time to ourselves, which was interrupted by his other teammate's return with his drunk girlfriend.

Brit covers her face as I tell her about Jenny's drunken antics. "Oh my god. I can't blame you for hightailing it out of there at that point." Uncovering her face, she finishes off her crepe, washing it down with a drink from her water bottle. "It does sound like a fun evening, though. Do you wish you could've gotten more time alone?"

I tilt my head to the side, considering her question. "Yes? But also, I feel like it ended at a high point. I mean, shouldn't a date leave you wanting more time with the other person rather than relieved to get away from them?"

She laughs. "Good point." Drumming her hands on the table, she says, "Okay. When are you seeing him again? Please tell me it's soon."

"Tonight," I mumble, around a mouthful of my crepe. "Or, well, this afternoon. We haven't firmed up the details yet, but we're definitely doing something today."

She stifles a squeal. "This is so great, Anna." Planting her elbow on the table, she points at me, eyes narrowed. "If I don't get a full update afterward, I'm hunting you down at your office tomorrow."

I raise my hands in surrender. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you in the dark." That's not entirely true, actually, and from the look on Brit's face, she knows it as well as I do, but she accepts my statement anyway.

"See that you don't." Then she grins, gathering up her trash as she stands. "This was fun. Let's make a point to do this kind of thing more often, okay?" She gives me a meaningful look as I do the same.

I bob my head in a nod. "For sure. Thanks for inviting me. And thanks for your help last night. I really appreciate it." And all of that is the truth.

Brit's face softens as we both toss our trash, and she gives me a quick hug. Stepping back, she narrows her eyes at me. "Just one thing. As happy as I am that things are going well for you and Troy, you're not allowed to run off to the big city and abandon me, okay?"

Laughing, I shake my head. "I'm pretty sure there's no real chance of that happening."

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue doubtfully. "I dunno. Tori would've said the same thing, and look at her now."

"Ehh. Not quite the same situation, though, is it? She wound up with a movie star, and she's working on costumes and designing dresses and all that. It makes sense that she couldn't use Arcadian Falls as a home base forever. But me?" I shake my head. "I'm an office manager with no aspirations to design clothes or whatever else."

"Yeah, but you've caught the attention of a hockey player."

I laugh that off, though my cheeks flush. "I hardly think knowing someone for two days is reason to suspect my life will change course completely. And besides. He's retired. Who's to say he couldn't wind up here?"

Brit's eyebrows jump, and a slow smile spreads across her face. "That's a very good point." She gives me one last quick hug. "Okay. I'll let you go so you can lock that man down! Let me know how it goes!" And with a wave over her shoulder, she's off, leaving me a little stunned but with my mind starting to whirl at the implications.

It's too early to think about that, though, right? We barely know each other. We've kissed, sure, and I wouldn't mind more. But I'm sure he just sees me as a vacation fling.

That's all this is. A fling. A short-term bit of fun. Something different to break me out of my shell, get me out of hiding, and maybe after Troy's gone, I can look for someone else to date.

The thought of finding someone else makes me immediately recoil in revulsion.

Okay, so maybe not right away. But I can for sure start going to girls' nights on the regular. And hang out with Brit more. She's fun. I like her. And even if I didn't realize it until she twisted my arm into going to girls' night, I miss having friends.

I'm not going to examine too closely the sadness that Troy leaving sparks inside me or the revulsion at the thought of dating anyone else. Instead, I'm going to focus on the important lessons I've learned this weekend—namely that I want friends and that I'm capable of making and sustaining friendships after all, no matter what that tool bag who left me at the altar tried to make me feel.

Feeling more empowered than I have in far too long, I tap on the screen of my phone and press it to my ear, smiling when Troy picks up on the second ring, his voice warm and deep when he answers. "Hey. How are you?"

"I'm great. What did you have in mind for today?"