First Time: Penny's Story (First Time (Penny) Book 1) (5 page)

“
Well, I’m just saying. When
you’re thirty, he’ll be sixty—”

“
And I might not be dating
him.”
Oh really, Miss August
Twenty-First?
I ignored that snarky part of
my brain. “I’m not making a lifetime commitment here. He’s just
really sweet.”

“
And you told him…” She
raised an eyebrow.

“
Ugh, no. I did not tell
him.” I rolled my eyes at her. “You don’t have to say that like I
have a terrible secret. You make it sound like I murdered
someone.”

“
I just don’t want this to
go down like Brad.”

My heart was still tender
when it came to the subject of Brad.
I’ve
spent two years waiting. Maybe if I’m not the one, I should go find
someone who isn’t afraid to fuck me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Even
though I’d dated Brad for two years, there had always been
something about him, something I hadn’t been able to put my finger
on, that had prevented me from being totally convinced that he was
the one. He’d managed to hide it for two years. “Any guy I go out
with could end up being a jerk about it.”

“
That wasn’t fair of me.
It’s not my place to worry about it. Sorry.” She took another sip
of her beer.

“
It was weird, though. When
I mentioned it, Ian didn’t even react.” Most guys either made a
huge deal about how unusual it was for someone to be a
twenty-two-year-old virgin or tried to joke about how they’d be the
first. One guy had described it as “voiding the
warranty”.

I had
not
called him back.

After my early morning, the date, and now,
the beer, I could barely keep my eyes open.

“
Maybe it’s better that he’s
an older guy. He won’t come with any of the younger guy bullshit.”
Rosa shrugged. “I need sleep, and you look like you’re going to
pass out. But I’m glad you had fun tonight.”

“
Yeah, I really did.” I
motioned to the bottles. “Leave those, I’ll get them in the
morning.”

I yawned and shuffled the few steps to my
bedroom. “You wanna get breakfast?”

She made an apologetic face. “I can’t.
Transgender women of color support group brunch.”

“
Right. Last Saturday of the
month.” I’m not such a bad friend that I would begrudge Rosa her
time with girlfriends who shared the same experiences as her. “Tell
Amanda I said hi.”

Rosa shook her head. “I would rather stick my
face in the blade of a riding lawn mower than talk to Amanda, but
for you, I will convey this message of misguided politeness.”

“
Rosa and Amanda sittin’ in
a tree—” I didn’t even get to the first
s
before she threw her slipper at me,
and I shielded myself by closing the bedroom door before she could
throw the second one.

As small as it is, my bedroom is like a
little oasis for me. The twinkly white Christmas lights were
something I should have totally left to my dorm room days, and I
could barely fit my full-sized bed and nightstand between the
walls. At least I had a shallow closet and two outlets, and there
was space at the foot of my bed for a storage cube upon which to
perch my teensy little twenty-seven-inch television. In a city of a
bajillion people, I would take whatever private space I could get,
even if it was tiny.

I decided I’d take off my makeup and brush my
teeth in the morning; my feet hurt too much from wearing heels all
night. My snuggly bed awaited.

Also, maybe some light research.

I’d held off on Facebook snooping before the
date. That had seemed rude. But now that I’d met him, I wanted to
know more. If he had a public profile, well…it wasn’t really
intruding, right?

I pulled up Facebook on my
Kindle and tapped in Ian Pratchett. He was fifth down on the list,
and his profile was public.
Jackpot.

His profile picture looked like it had been
taken on a boat, off the shore of some Mediterranean country with
gleaming white buildings high on the bluff behind him. The water
was sparkling blue, and the scenery was truly beautiful, but it
wasn’t the locale that interested me. Ian was shirtless and
smiling, his broad shoulders suntanned. The dark hair on his chest
was sprinkled with gray, and I saw no evidence of the “gory wreck”
he’d claimed his body was. Sure, he had a little tummy, but seven
days out of the month I did, too. It wasn’t my place to judge.

Under “relationship status” it said,
“single,” and I breathed a sigh of relief. Not that people didn’t
lie about that sort of thing, but Sophie had said Ian was in the
process of divorcing his wife. If he hadn’t changed his status, I
would have questioned that.

His wall was full of birthday wishes from
July fifteenth. I flipped through my mental calendar. So, he was a
Cancer with a Pisces influence. His cute, considerate manner hadn’t
been an act. I wished I knew his middle name. Or if Ian was his
birth name, at all. I would love to figure out his lifepath number
and how compatible it was with mine.

I tapped my way into his photo albums, and
immediately wished I hadn’t. The first album was titled, “Greece,
2013”. The display photo was of Ian and a gorgeous, full-figured
redhead in a playful embrace by the Acropolis.

That was his ex-wife. She looked like a
1950’s movie star. I looked like a dollar store Barbie knock
off.

Nope. I wasn’t going to do this. They were
divorced, and he seemed like he really liked me. This woman was no
competition to me, and there was nothing to compete for. I’d been
on one date with the guy.

Well, one date, and there was that fortune
cookie.

But I wasn’t going to bank on that until
after Labor Day.

* * * *

My favorite part of Sunday
is my run. I love to run, and I’m good at it. I ran track in high
school, but in college, I’d gotten invested in long distances. The
longest race I’d ever done was a half-marathon, and I was super
proud of myself. But after college, I somehow had even less time to
indulge. I’d thought when I’d broken free of papers and late night
study sessions, I’d have a lot of free time, but now I only got a
few days a week in, and only three and a half miles most mornings.
Sundays, though, I was free to do my long run, and it was epic. I
was guessing it was around eight miles; despite all the free apps
out there, I’d never wanted to make it that strict. I just ran
where I wanted, for as long as I wanted, and if I went too far, I’d
get on the subway and go home.

My preferred route took me across the
Williamsburg Bridge and back, then east again to run through East
River Park, which had awesome pavement. I’d just reached the north
end of the park and turned around when I spotted someone I thought
I recognized.

Oh, fudgesicle. It was Ian. In a suit and
tie, doing that hot over-the-shoulder-jacket thing, again. And I
was wearing a running bra and a pair of spandex shorts, both of
which were soaked in sweat, and absolutely no makeup. So,
basically, the complete opposite of how hot I’d looked on Friday
night.

He was walking beside someone else, so I kept
my head down and hoped he wouldn’t notice me, but I looked up at
the last moment, and we made eye contact. His face lit up as he
recognized me, and I slowed my steps and popped my earbuds out.

“
Penny,” Ian said with a big
smile. “This is an unexpected surprise.”

“
All surprises are
unexpected,” the guy next to him said. “That’s why they’re
surprises.”

At first glance, I’d been too focused on Ian
to really get a look at the man next to him. Now that I was closer,
I could see that it wasn’t a guy in a black t-shirt, but a priest
in a short-sleeved black button down with a Roman collar.

So, I was now half-naked and sweaty not only
in front of the man I had been wanting to go on another date with
but his priest friend, as well.

Ian frowned at his friend’s remark. “This
sarcastic bastard is my nephew, Danny.”

“
Oh.” I reached for the hand
Danny offered and shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

Ian gestured to a bench and said to his
nephew, “Why don’t you fuck off over there and give me some
privacy?”

“
Nice to meet you, too. He’s
been talking about you all day,” Danny said, a hint of retaliation
in his statement.

It worked, because Ian turned bright red and
told me, “Well, not all day.”

I blushed, too, ridiculously pleased with
myself. I was glad I was already red-faced, so he wouldn’t be able
to tell. I gestured to his shirt and tie. “So, do you not have any
other clothes? Or is this your park-going suit?”

“
What?” He looked down. “Oh.
No, I just came from mass. I’m feeling a wee bit overdressed,
now.”

His nephew was a priest, and they’d just come
from mass. That was interesting new information.

I didn’t want to make him feel like he had to
stand there talking to me, so I pointed to the heart rate monitor
on my arm. “Well, I’d better—”

“
Yes! Sorry. I didn’t mean
to imperil your cardiovascular fitness.” He put his free hand in
his pocket. His sleeves were rolled up, yet another item on my hot
list, and the dark hair on his arms was an added turn-on. “But
while you’re here, uh, I was planning to call you tonight. I
thought it would look desperate and uncool if I called you
yesterday, but now it’s day two and I don’t have to look desperate
and uncool, because you’re here and I can just ask you now.” He
stopped, made an expression that was more of a wince than a smile,
and looked out over the river. “Would you like to go on another
date with me? If you aren’t busy on Saturday, I was thinking we
could go on a picnic. A legal, daytime picnic.”

I laughed, because I had to do something
about the hysterical elation that swelled up in me. Combined with
the endorphins I was already rushing on, my rapidly increasing
crush on him was threatening to crack all my ribs from the inside
out. “I’m totally free. And I would love to go on a picnic with
you.”

“
Great. I’ll call you this
week, and we can hash out the details.” His look of profound relief
made me melt.

“
Great,” I echoed him. Then
I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “I’m gonna…”

“
Yeah. Have a good one. I’ll
call you.”

As I jogged away, I mentally counted to ten,
making a bet with myself that he would still be watching me. I
looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, he was watching. I gave him a
wave, which he returned with a nod, and when I turned back, I made
a triumphant fist that I totally did not throw into the air.

On my run home, I couldn’t stop smiling like
a doofus. My ponytail swished a little more than usual behind me,
and I’m sure people thought I was on a really cheerful brand of
cocaine or secretly filming a tampon commercial. A day date? For a
second date? He was definitely into me.

It was a general agreement among my friends
and I that a day date meant that the other person wasn’t trying to
set a time limit. A day could turn into an evening, and an evening
could turn into a night. If someone wanted to go on a day date with
you, they wanted the option of spending a lot of time with you.

Normally, I wouldn’t have agreed to a daytime
meet up for a second date, but I hadn’t wanted Friday night to end.
The odds seemed good that we would hit it off that well again.

Unfortunately, it might also mean telling him
about my no-sex policy. But I’d found through trial and error that
it was better to share stuff like that right at the beginning, so
neither of us would be disappointed if it wouldn’t work out. But he
was Catholic, so maybe he’d be cool with the virginity thing.

They were big into my kind.

Chapter Four

As much as I
loved my job, I usually dreaded Monday mornings, but I knew Sophie
was going to have questions about my date, and Monday was one of
the days she was in the office. Tuesday through Thursday she worked
from home, which was fine by me because that meant I had only one
editor-in-chief to assist.

I arrived at eight and slid Sophie’s usual
coffee order—small sugar-free vanilla cappuccino—onto her desk in
anticipation of her arrival. Then I sat down and opened her
schedule and Deja’s. Deja was my other boss. She’d founded the
magazine with Sophie and was one of those people who were so cool
they would be intimidating if not for how nice they are. She has
dark skin, with a gorgeous glowing tan, probably from laying in the
sun at Sophie’s seaside house in the Hamptons. Her hair is always
changing; currently she was sporting a short bob that tapered to
the back of her head on one side, while the other was shaved super
close. She was the first to arrive, coming in with her stylish navy
linen jacket already off. She lunged for a hanger on the coat
rack.

“
That’s my job!” I jumped up
like I was going to rush her for it, and she held out a
hand.

“
Get back or so help me god,
you’ll never hang up a coat in this office again!” she warned. “I
will throw this coat rack out!”

“
Guys!” Sophie came through
the door, balancing a square pink box on her arm. “I got cookies.
You don’t get cookies for fighting.”

Sophie sported a totally weird Marc Jacobs
sundress that looked like a wadded up army tent with black shoulder
straps. She had paired it with a bright yellow crop top, and pulled
her sleek dark hair into a high ponytail. She wore a lot of strange
stuff, but she was the editor of a fashion magazine, so she knew
better than me what was fashionable.