Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 527(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
I let the door to the parking lot close.
Lean on the doorjamb and give Diego my full attention.
He says he’ll pay me?
“I’m listening.”
two
ryann
“Dating is fun, darling, but I don’t recommend it.”
– Dr. Laura Winters, relationship expert
I am not the type of girl who inspires fantasies—especially in college-aged men. Especially popular ones. Yet here I am, dating one.
A popular guy, I mean.
But Diego confuses me more so by the lack of physical affection than the fact that he even asked me out to begin with.
We haven’t been dating long, but we’ve barely kissed, something I think about every day since our first date; I don’t know if it’s because he’s shy or polite, or if it’s because he’s truly not that interested in me sexually.
Trust me when I say: when it comes to that sort of thing, I’m all for it. He doesn’t need to hesitate to spare my sensibilities, or however you want to put it. My parents always taught me that physical affection is one of the most important forms of love you can show your partner, so I’m not sure why Diego isn’t showing it to me if he liked me.
Confession No. 1: It would be accurate to say I’m dating my boyfriend because he was the only guy who asked me out so far this year.
Worse? Half of that reason was because he plays football for the university and I knew I wouldn’t have to see him all that much. Because guys like that? They don’t have time to date.
Not really.
Not in the way that counts.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror before pulling my hair back into a ponytail, which is the same style I wear it in for work.
The green sweater on my bed is pale, brings out the color of my eyes, and will keep me warm on the walk since it’s cold outside and almost winter.
Cute bra (as usual).
Conservative underwear.
Not that anyone is going to see them…
A shame, really. My date is tomorrow, but there’s a chance he might stop by during my shift tonight, and I want to look cute—he’s done it once, so maybe he’ll do it again if he has time?
“Why am I doing this to myself?” I muse out loud while I swipe on some mascara. “He’s not going to stop in.”
Doesn’t stop me from putting in the effort.
And I still go on dates with him despite what little we seem to have in common, despite the fact that he’s not really my usual type and I’m probably not his.
What’s my type? Studious and funny. Clean-cut. Average build. The kind of normal dude who’s content staying home to watch movies over the weekends instead of going out—not one who’s on televised football games around the country, a guy who plays in front of thousands of people, then wants to go out and celebrate after a victory.
Diego is athletic, bulky, a partier, and kind of not so studious and smart.
Shit. Is that a rude thing to say?
Our conversations haven’t been the best, which would be fine if we had other things to fill the silence with, like, say—kissing? But we rarely do that either.
Confession No. 2: Diego and I haven’t slept together. Not yet, anyway, though not for my lack of trying.
He’s a linebacker on the football team. Aren’t those sports guys supposed to be all horny and want to bang, like, all the time? Diego doesn’t seem to care either way.
We’ve been dating long enough I should expect some sort of major sex effort on his part. Groping at the very least. At a minimum, he should try to kiss me without always asking if I want him to kiss me—that’s getting old.
One can only use toys for so long when there’s actual, real live dick involved.
I mean honestly, come on. What’s a girl got to do to get laid around here?
“I have no idea why he asked me out in the first place, but I can assure you, if he got a boner every time he saw me, we’d have slept together by now.”
Great. Now I’m talking to myself.
Diego is a catch. He is. But sometimes I’d rather come home and bathe a cat than sit through a date with him. Yawn.
He’s sweet, though on the shyer side. In great shape. Friendly.
Anyway, we’re taking it slow.
Super slow.
Like—at a glacial pace.
My friends told me to give the guy a chance, so I’m giving the guy a chance even though I’m still very undecided about him and where this is headed. Are we just wasting time, or is there potential here?
Can a relationship grow if there’s no zing or zap when you touch?
I grab my jacket off the chair when I breeze through the kitchen, slipping into a pair of comfortable boots. I have a long shift at the diner and will be on my feet the entire time, so the sweater and comfy shoes are a must.