Not when his lips are sliding against mine.
Not when his tongue is fucking mine.
Not when all six feet and however many inches of him is pressed against my body.
Not when I feel...
I feel sixteen again. Like it’s five minutes past curfew and the making out session is so good, you don’t care about being grounded. There seems to be one important thing in this world right now and that is kissing this man. This morning started innocently enough. We woke up, had breakfast, got ready for our days, and walked out to our cars. Marc grabbed my hand before I could get too far away. Next thing I know, a soft goodbye kiss has ended up like this.
When Marc pulls away, my shoulders fall with disappointment.
“Time to go. Promise me a date when I get back?”
“Sure.”
Marc grins. “You definitely like me.”
“You just better hope I still do once you get back.”
His smile falters. “How concerned should I be?”
“Don’t be concerned; I was kidding.” I lift up one last time and kiss him. “Time to go.”
Marc takes a step back, opens my car door for me, and watches me leave. Once I arrive at work, I settle into my routine. I like my job. Over the years, it’s become familiar. There are regulars and I know their names. My workspace is organized with everything in its place. The time passes slowly as usual until it’s time for my lunch break.
When Sylvia called yesterday and she found out Marc was over, she made me promise to have lunch with her. I’m not looking forward to it, especially since I think I like Marc. Sylvia will spot it a mile away. She’ll be over the moon happy. Who knows what to expect after her squeal of excitement or whatever she’ll do? Then, she’ll tell Scott.
Just thinking about it is making me feel bad again. I don’t necessarily feel guilty for liking him because I know Roger would want me to be happy, but it feels wrong to like, want, and be with anyone who isn’t Roger.
Wait.
Let me correct myself.
It mostly feels wrong to be with Marc when he’s not standing near me. When he’s close, I’m too distracted by him to dwell on it. It’s only when I’m alone that I start to rethink everything. Not to mention, there is guilt that I deal with on a daily basis. No one can help me with that, though. I shove that thought out of my head because it’s only a downward spiral from there.
“Lizzy?”
I snap out of my trance and turn at the sound of Sylvia’s voice. I’m standing outside of our favorite go-to breakfast and BBQ restaurant, Bagels and Butts. Faintly, I wonder if Marc even knows what our version of BBQ is and if he calls it that or pulled pork or if he has some other name for it. I hug my coat tighter since the wind seems to be particularly bitter and sharp today. “Hey. Let’s go on in since you’re late.”
She loops her arm through mine as we walk in. “How’s it going with Marc? Oh! You’re blushing! That has to be a good thing.”
“Two, please,” I tell the hostess, ignoring Sylvia. I’m relieved that we’re seated right away. It can be super busy and with Sylvia being late, the last thing I need is for us to have to wait for a table.
“What did you two do last night?”
I swallow hard and wish the waitress would hurry up and take our drink orders. “We had dinner with Noah and Meredith.”
“And then you went back to your house.” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“Nothing happened.”
She rolls her eyes, no doubt thinking I’m lying. The waitress finally appears and we place our full order since it’s almost always the same. “Then what did y’all do?” she asks.
I find an interesting spot on the table. There’s no way I want to tell Sylvia we baked cakes. She’ll have a fit and blow it out of proportion.
“Lizzy, tell me.”
Sighing, I say, “We baked cakes. He wanted a bake-off.”