They’re living the American dream, while I’m over here trying to get with every cute guy I see, yet they never hold my interest long enough. Or they don’t meet my needs—whatever those are.
It’s not like they’re bad guys. Most of the men I’ve been with, save for a few, have been pretty awesome. Kind. Handsome. Hard-working. Smart. Funny. Some of them were excellent in bed. A few were meh. Two in particular were flat-out awful.
When I start thinking about all of them, I always end up feeling bad. For making those choices. For having sex with so many of them and then just…moving on, like I didn’t even care. Men can be with a bunch of women and they aren’t judged. Women get with a bunch of guys, and we’re sluts.
I’m not a slut. I’m just—a woman who can’t find the right man for her. And I’m a woman who likes to have sex but doesn’t want the commitment. Commitment is scary. It’s a trap. I’ve heard my parents argue a lot over the years, and that’s one of the things my dad accused my mother of doing. She trapped him.
That’s some scary shit.
Hayden says I’m in love with the idea of falling in love. I enjoy the chase. The rush and thrill of finding someone new. Once that’s over, I’m done. I’ve lost interest.
Pretty sure she’s right.
I’m also scared of what comes after the chase. I’ve never stuck around long enough to find out.
“You couldn’t be so lucky,” Hayden says with a laugh. When she notes my wounded look, her laughter dies. “I wasn’t meaning it in a bad way, Gracie. It’s just—whenever that big perv finds the woman he falls in love with, he’s going to lavish her with so much attention, it’s going to be unreal.”
“You really believe that?” I can’t imagine Caleb in love with anyone.
Just like I can’t see it for myself either.
“I do,” she says with a nod. “He’s the type to fall hard. It’s because he’s in complete denial of his feelings. He thinks he’s incapable of love.”
“What? He told you that?” I’m in shock.
“No, I’m just making assumptions, though he’s given me little clues. And Tony’s told me things. Caleb is scared of his future. He thinks it’s going to be boring.”
“Caleb is the furthest thing from boring,” I say with a little snort.
“Right? I know. But he truly believes he’s going to simply settle for everything in life in the future, so why not live it up now?” Hayden shakes her head. “His logic is troublesome.”
“I’ll say.”
The server chooses that moment to ask if we need refills and I let Hayden talk to her, the two of them carrying on a conversation as if they know each other while I sit with my thoughts.
Caleb thinks he’s boring? And that he’s going to end up settling for a mediocre life? This doesn’t sound like the Caleb I know. Why should he have to settle for anything? He can be whatever he wants—and whoever he wants—if he so chooses. Who convinced him that he can’t?
This thought leads to more thoughts, and makes me realize I definitely need to approach him before I just show up at Mitchell’s Landing screaming out, “Surprise!” when I see him.
He deserves to know.
Three
Caleb
I’m kicking it in my room, exhausted. Freshly showered. Jerked off in the shower too because why not. Work kicked my ass today and I’m ready to crash. I’ve got my AirPods in my ears and I’m listening to some jams with my eyes closed. My ceiling fan on high because even though it’s only early June, it’s hot as balls outside and the air conditioning in this apartment is subpar.
At least it works, so I shouldn’t complain.
I’m drifting, thinking about absolutely nothing when there’s a light knock on my door. I crack my eyes open, staring at the fan in the semi-darkness of my room. The blinds are closed but there’s a light outside shining directly into my room. All night long.
Fucking sucks.
There’s another knock, followed by a whispery voice.
“Caleb? Are you awake?”
Oh fuck. It’s Gracie.
I sit up, shoving my fingers through my damp hair to push it into place before I yank my AirPods out of my ears. “Yeah, come in.”
The door slowly creaks open and she’s standing in the doorway, the light from her open bedroom door across the hall casting her in a silhouette. And what a silhouette it is. The girl has a bangin’ body. I kind of can’t get over it. I think it’s her legs. They’re so damn long. Like, how long would it take me to kiss every square inch of them, huh? Hours, probably. What would it feel like to have them wrapped around me tight while I fucked her hard?
Pretty damn good, I’d bet.
“Were you sleeping?” she asks as she takes me in.
“Trying to,” I admit. May as well keep it honest between us.
“Oh.” She leans against the doorjamb, still watching me. Making me feel a little weird having her stare at me while I’m sitting in bed with just my boxers on. At least my comforter is draped over my lap so she can’t see anything. Not that I’m ashamed or whatever, but I gotta keep the mystery going, ya know? “Can I talk to you? It can wait if you’re too tired.”
“No, come in. Sit down.” I wave a hand toward my empty desk chair before I lean over and click on the lamp on my bedside table.
She glances around my room when the light switches on, curiosity all over her pretty face. She’s taking it all in while I sit up in bed with a yawn, covering my mouth at the last second when I feel her gaze land on me.
“Your room is clean,” she says, sounding surprised.
“I’m not a complete slob.”
“No, you’re not.” She settles into the chair, her gaze never straying from mine. It’s like she’s looking into my eyes on purpose. As if she can’t look at anything else for fear of being distracted. Or maybe that’s me being hopeful that my bare chest gets her going. “I need to talk to you about something.”
I brace myself, prepared for the worst. Girls make statements like that, and it always brings bad news. Something I don’t want or need. “What is it?” I ask warily.
“Well, I got a job.” She leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and my gaze drops—directly to her tits. Not that they’re hanging out, but she does have a tank top on, and I can see the smooth skin of her chest, the pale pink lace of her bra, and the swell of her breasts against the lace.
Jerking my gaze from her chest, I stare into her eyes, checking for anger.
She doesn’t look angry. Nope, she looks…nervous?
Huh.
“Where at?” I ask, my imagination going wild. Maybe she’s going to work at a dispensary and has to warn me she can’t give her friends discounts no matter how much I beg—because that would be cool, having a dispensary discount for weed.
Or fuck, maybe it’s something worse. Maybe she’s going to become a drug runner or some shit. Talk about risky—Gracie wouldn’t do that. Oh wait, what if she’s about to drop the bomb that she’s gonna be a stripper? Girl could totally pull it off. I can only imagine her strutting out on a little stage in fuck me shoes with crystal stars covering her titties—