I busied myself by taking a shower, making sure absolutely everything was very closely
shaved, just in case. It was quite different caring for my body when I thought that there was a chance someone else might be touching it soon.
When my hair was half dry, I put it in a loose braid so that it would tame the volume. By the time I was ready to leave and finger combed it out, it fell around my shoulders in big
glamorous beachy waves.
With just a little makeup and a simple sleeveless peach sundress, I hoped that I looked cute but casual. A tiny part of me wanted to wear something sexy and black. I knew that’s what
Kim would probably recommend.
But feeling sexy was a brand new sensation for me, so I thought I should take it easy on my
first try. The last thing I ever wanted to do was draw attention to myself or be
embarrassed. It was one of my greatest terrors.
Mitch seemed to understand my shyness and went out of his way to make me feel calm
about it. Out of all the men I could have stumbled into this summer, I was incredibly grateful that I found someone who is not only an absolute hunk by anyone’s standards, but a guy
who was sweet and thoughtful.
As I walked along the beach to Mitch’s house, I realized that Brendan and Julie would be
back so late they would assume I was already asleep when they got in. If I wanted to, I
could stay over at Mitch’s house tonight without the awkwardness of mentioning it to them.
A month ago, that thought would have filled me with fear. Now, the thought of being
snuggled in his arms for any length of time made my pulse quicken.
My hand raised to tap on the door, but Mitch was already opening it, sweeping me
immediately into his arms for a gigantic, deep kiss.
“I really did miss you, sweetie. Tell me you like tacos.”
I laughed, looking around the kitchen. “I think you need a coordinator here.”
He tried to shoot me a glare, but it dissolved into a grin. “My cooking procedure goes in all directions. It’s just my style.”
“Quick – stir the beef,” I said, “I’ll grate the cheese.”
Just like that, we were working on a project together and chatting like we’d known each
other forever. Somehow we ended up with a row of bowls containing diced vegetables,
cheese, and beef so that we could construct our dinner.
Throughout the entire process, Mitch’s hands often skimmed my waist. Or if his hands were
sticky, his elbow would skim across my back. It became a game to see how much we could
touch each other and make it look like an accident.
Although dinner featured one of the most lively and fascinating conversations of my life, all I could do was stare into Mitch’s eyes. Tales of motorcycle jumps, bar fights, and falling off