Cynda and the City Doctor: 50 Loving States, Missouri

“Yeah, what exactly?” Gina joined in with Billie in regarding me suspiciously from the phone’s screen. “What happened to Mr. Best Kisser Ever when you got him in bed?”

So many regrets.

I should never have let myself get so excited after our fantastic first date kiss that I texted all about it to my two best friends. But to be fair, I really had thought Rhys and me were headed somewhere spectacular in bed.

Hell, he’d mauled me in the doorway of my apartment on our second date, when he saw me all dressed up for dinner and a play at the Fox. We’d ended up arriving over twenty minutes late for our reservation at the Grand Tavern by David Burke. I was pretty sure Rhys had to slip the maître d a few bills to get us seated and even more bills to the waiter to put a rush on things, so we’d be out of there in time to catch Cabaret.

Afterward, he’d walked me all the way to my apartment door. Real Gentleman. But there was nothing polite about the way he kissed me. We’d made out so long in the hallway, I could feel him against me, hard and heavy, and totally ready to do something good girls weren’t supposed to on a second date.

But I was okay with not being good. Usually, I made guys wait until at least the fifth date, which meant I ghosted most of them before we could seal the deal.

But after sharing another wonderful dinner filled with banter and droll laughter and sitting in a dark theatre for two and a half hours with his hand on my knee, I was more than ready. I didn’t want to make Rhys wait like a good boy. And if that made me a bad girl, I didn’t care.

“Let’s take this inside,” I’d suggested when we finally came up for air.

Only to have him pull back and answer, “Not yet, love.”

Not yet…I’d been so ready, so turned on I could barely process his words. But yes, that’s what he’d said. Not yet.

“Do you have tomorrow free?” he asked. “We could go see Logan. I hear dark Wolverine is quite good.”

“As good as dark Batman, dark Daredevil, and dark Avenger squad?” I’d asked, grudgingly coming out of my rejection sulk.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Even better.”

“I dunno, Iron Fist still has me in my feelings. Such a disappointment.”

“Please, Cynda will you come out with me? I promise not to disappoint you.” He dipped his head to hit me with a pleading look. Like he really did want to see me again. Bad. And as cool and sarcastic as I was trying to be, it felt like my heart was doing back handsprings in my chest.

I’d given in, and he’d kissed me on the cheek before saying a quiet good night and disappearing down the hall as he pulled out his phone to order an Uber.

Okay, I could live with not yet, I’d decided. Yes, I’d been revved up and ready to go but I’d been doing pretty okay with my vibrator before The Fine Prince came along. What was one more night?

Except it hadn’t been one more night. Our shift schedules had synced up weirdly often and whenever we both had a night off, he asked me out. On the third date, he had his hand all the way up underneath my sweater before he said not yet. On the fourth date, we’d been grinding on each other like teenagers against the wall next to my door. I’d been this close to coming when he pulled the brakes with another not yet.

Surely on the fifth date, I’d told myself. But nope.

Another not yet. In fact, he’d dropped me off at the door of my building instead of walking me upstairs.

“I prefer to be a gentleman, and I know I won’t be able to if I escort you up to your flat.”

“I’m okay with that,” I’d assured him. “More than okay. I would have been okay with it three dates back. Please, come upstairs.”

His eyes had heated at my invitation, but then he’d took a step back and said, “Not yet.”

Sigh.

We also hadn’t consummated anything on the sixth date. Or the seventh. If anything, we’d kissed less. He’d begun greeting me with pecks instead of full kisses. And on the sixth and seventh dates, he’d kissed me on the cheek when we parted.

If not for the constant stream of texts he’d been sending me throughout the day and the fact that he’d invited me out for breakfast, lunch, or dinner literally whenever we both had the time, I’d think we were cooling off.

“It sounds like a Victorian romance novel. Tense and really slow,” Billie said when I was done with my sad tale.

“I know, right?” Gina agreed. “But I think I saw an episode of Sex and the City where the exact same thing happened with one of the guys Carrie was dating. Is that the one she ended up with in the end?”