Valentine's Day Virgin

I nod because I’m not sure what else to say.

“I’ll make that appointment for you,” she says.

“Thanks.”

She leaves without fanfare. I’m going to see her tomorrow, and she can probably sense that I’m not in the mood for a long goodbye. Not when she did the equivalent of planting a couple sticks of dynamite in my brain. Because this is true, Sally has been on my mind non-stop, and it’s only been a day. I look over at the window where she looked out of it last night and see a tiny smudge where her nose met the glass.

Everything does feel different, and there’s a part of me that welcomes that relief. The other part of me has seen this before, and isn’t sure that the world turning upside down is a good thing. But what am I going to do? I’m not going to stop. I can’t, because there’s a need to find out where this goes, and it’s running so deep through me that I don’t think I could change course if I tried.

So we’ll see where this leads.

I pick up my phone and text her.

Aurelia’s Boutique. I think they’ll have some things that will look absolutely stunning on you.

I wait for a second.

And off you.

There’s typing.

That’s the most expensive boutique in the city, are you serious?!

Very.

She doesn’t say anything for a while. And I open my email to find the damage. Jennifer was right, this is actually way better than I expected. I guess the worst of my problems were yesterday. Or at least I hope that’s the case. Whatever happens now will be almost impossible to fix without great cost anyway, since tomorrow is the ‘big day.’

Fucking Valentine’s.

Bianca was right about one other thing, the fact that I like Sally is going to make going to this party bearable. Though I highly doubt I’ll have a good time. I don’t think I’m capable of having fun on a day that’s basically a set-up for people to get hurt. It sets unreasonable expectations and is nothing more than a money trap. Love, real love, doesn’t need to be stated with chocolates and flowers and a special day to recognize that you found a good partner in your life.

My phone vibrates, and it’s in my hand before I can blink.

Okay. I’ll see you at noon.

Good. Now I have something to look forward to. The image of Sally’s face as she came on my hand pops into my head again, and I have to breathe through the tightness in my pants. Curse whoever designed my office to be entirely glass so I can’t spend some more intimate time thinking about her, because I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to noon, let alone the end of the day.

But I don’t have a choice.

I open the first email and begin.

7

Sally

Well, that went well.

Even my brain is sarcastic about it. There’s no way that could be considered ‘going well’ in any universe. Even having Iris put in a good word for me didn’t save me there. I just…completely bombed. It’s not like being a personal shopper was my dream job or anything, but I need a job. I can’t exactly survive without one, and the money that Mr. Ferguson reluctantly paid me is barely enough to cover my bills for the month.

I kind of want to buy a pint of ice cream, go home and sit in my bed and watch re-runs of bad sitcoms for a while. But I can’t because I’m meeting Eric at Aurelia’s. Aurelia’s. I think my jaw dropped when he sent me that, and after that, I was straight blushing because he said I might look good out of the clothes.

Some people might think that’s a bit forward for flirting, but I can see the way he would say it if he were standing in front of me, that little sexy smirk and a wink. Besides, he’s already touched me and made me come. Basically indicated that he wanted to take my virginity. Given that, it’s okay that he’s a little forward.

But that doesn’t stop the flames that heat my cheeks when I read that text or the way my body heats, remembering the pleasure he gave me. When I woke up this morning it all felt like a dream. There’s no way that that actually happened, right? But it did.

I waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell me that he didn’t need a date to the party anyway or just ghost me without every hearing from him again. But when his text came through this morning, I almost fell over. I knew that I was going to be swimming in new waters going on a date with a millionaire, possibly billionaire, but I’m completely out at sea. What do I do here?

And more importantly, what do I tell Iris? Because she’s standing in front of the café waving at me and she’s going to want every little detail. Shit. But then again, Iris might have some good advice for a virgin like me. And I know she’ll pester me until I tell her.

“How’d it go?” she asks as I walk up.

I make a face. “Not well. She didn’t seem to like any of the answers I gave her about personal style or fashion, and it only got worse once she started asking me what designers I like to have in my own wardrobe. I just got tongue-tied and sounded like an idiot. I was only in there for fifteen minutes when she thanked me for coming in.”

Iris grimaces as she loops her arm in mine and walks me into the café. “Sorry. That doesn’t sound great. But you’ll find something soon. You’re talented and brilliant and—”

“And qualified for nothing,” I remind her.

“Don’t be silly. You’ve got a degree. You’re qualified. You just haven’t found what you love to do yet.”

We sit at a table near the window and I close my eyes, letting the spring sun fall on my face. “Yeah. Who knows.” When I open my eyes she’s staring at me. “What?”

“Are you really going to make me ask how it went last night?”

I bite my lip. “No. I mean, I assumed you were going to ask, I just thought we might get the food first so that we’re not interrupted.”

“Okay,” she gives me a look. “We can do that. But if you don’t want to be interrupted, that means something happened."

“Not necessarily,” I say, lowering my voice. “Maybe I just don’t want anyone having the chance to eavesdrop about the fact that I went on a date with a very rich, very famous, very fucking attractive person last night.”

“Let’s be honest,” Iris says, looking at her menu. “Fucking attractive doesn’t even cover it. I think what you’re referring to is ‘One look could shred the panties off a hundred women’ hot.”

I’m still laughing when the waitress takes our order. I only get a salad. After this, I’m going to have to try on ball gowns, and there’s no chance in hell I want a food baby when I’m trying on what are going to be very expensive dresses. Iris doesn’t even know about that yet.

“Okay,” she says, “we’ve ordered. For the love of God just tell me what happened.”

I blush, because I don’t know how I’m actually going to say this out loud. But I do. I narrate from getting followed into the club to talking and to dancing and kissing and…everything after that, and Iris is looking at me like I’m an alien with three heads.

“Holy shit, Sally!”

“Shhhh,” I say, looking around, concerned that someone might have heard me. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Um, excuse me, this is a huge deal. How long have you been waiting for something like this and now it happens with Eric fucking Marshall?” She whispers his name. “This is huge. And good for you girl, it’s about time you got some.”

I laugh, and then clam up as the waitress puts my salad in front of me. “And he’s taking to me Aurelia’s to shop for the party.”

Iris puts down her fork. “What?” I tried to throw it out there like it wasn’t a big deal, but in Iris’s world, this is like being invited to the Oscars. “Really?”

“At noon. Hence the salad.”

“This is absolutely insane.”

I nod my head. “You’re telling me. All because I’m an idiot, day-dreaming klutz. I never knew that that could be a good thing.”

“Oh my God,” Iris says. “I didn’t connect the dots before now.

Aurelia’s is owned by Bianca Marshall. I don’t think I ever knew she was connected to the card company. Holy shit. If you guys get married, I want to be able to take my clients there.”