I’ve never had much luck where men are concerned.
I never had any serious boyfriends in school, and ever since then, I’ve mostly avoided the matter altogether. It’s so much better to daydream about my imaginary future husband, the man who whispers to me at night that he loves me, the man to whom I want to tie myself to forever.
“I won’t get hurt,” I tell her. “I know he hasn’t had a crush on me, the same way I have on him. It would be impossible. I know there’s a danger of me coming on too strongly. I get all that, Mom. You don’t have to worry.”
“You’ll take care of yourself, I know.” Mom smiles. “But it’s my job to worry, remember. So, have you decided?”
She gestures at the piles of clothes covering the floor.
I turn to the mirror, looking at myself in the knee-length dress, showing a tiny bit of cleavage. It’s not a massive display, but it’s enough to make me feel sexy, to make me feel like the sort of woman who can inspire a kiss backstage, to make me feel like the sort of woman I always wished I could be.
“Is it too much?” I ask.
Mom walks up behind me, smiling at me in the mirror. “You look absolutely gorgeous, Billie.”
I beam under the praise, smiling widely, and hold onto her words as fiercely as I can.
I just hope Aaron thinks the same.
“Do you care about the age gap, Mom?”
She shakes her head. “I think people should make their own decisions, especially in love. And anyway, I’m a clever, scheming parent.”
I turn to her, eyebrow raised. “Are you? Explain please.”
She grins. “If I were to tell you that you couldn’t be with Aaron under any circumstances whatsoever, that he’s too old for you, or anything – anything to keep you apart – it would only push you further into his arms.”
I nod, accepting her answer, even if I think she’s wrong. There’s nothing that could make me want to be with Aaron more than I already do, nothing that could make me want him with fiercer desire.
Glancing at the clock, I give mom my best puppy-dog eyes.
“What is it?” She laughs.
“Would you mind straightening my hair?”
I sit in the back of the car, my hands clasped, my body captured by a taut on-edge feeling, like any second I could snap and let out a cry. The driver is hidden by a partition, so I lay my head against the glass and watch the city drift by.
The sun is setting, slanting down, and it makes me think of a lyric…
“I found love in sunlight,” I sing softly, wondering if the driver thinks I sound like a complete ass.
The closer I get to his apartment, the more I wonder if I should ask the driver to turn around. It was different when I was speaking with Aaron on the phone, safe behind the screen. And even backstage, that all happened so fast and so passionately I didn’t have time to second-guess it.
But now my foot is tapping relentlessly, my hands are squeezed so tightly, my fingernails jab into my palms, and a film of sweat has coated my upper lip. We’re going to be together, on a date, an actual date where we talk and hopefully have chemistry, hopefully, initiate the first step in what might lead to our happily ever after.
What if the conversation is stilted? What if, without the music and the intensity of the concert, he doesn’t feel the same as when he kissed me?
“Ma’am,” the driver says, coming through a small speaker set in the door. “We’re here.”
I take a deep breath and then step from the car, walking across the parking lot toward the elevator. Aaron sent me the code for his apartment a few hours ago, so I type it into the pad. The doors open and I step inside.
It’s not like the elevators I’m used to, with chewing gum on the floor and graffiti on the walls. These walls are padded and clean, the mirror so sparkling it seems to emit its own light. There’s no juddering as it ascends, smooth and effortless, bringing me closer and closer to the man of my dreams.
The doors open directly onto the apartment.
Aaron stands in the hallway, wearing a suit, unlike anything I’ve ever seen him in. It matches the iron in his hair. His shirt is open, showing me a glimpse of his tattooed chest, tattoos poking out of his shirt sleeves.
My body grows hot. He looks like a half-civilized wild man, and I tingle at the thought of being the one to bring him the rest of the way.
“Billie.”
He makes my name so husky and intense.
Stalking down the hallway, he takes me in his arms, squeezing his hands onto my shoulders, and brings his lips down on mine. I sink into it, as my dreams come true for a second time, his mouth opening and his tongue finding mine, clashing with it.