Man of My Dreams (29 page)

My brain wars with my twitching dick the entire brisk walk back to her dorm room. And damn it if my sweet, shy Mia isn’t coming out of her innocent shell. My song seems to have turned her from southern belle to sex kitten.

Not that I’m complaining.

Kissing and groping, we stumble into her room and she flips on the light, sighing in relief. She pulls me back to her by the collar of my shirt and speaks against my lips, “Roommate’s gone for the night. Thank God.” She flips the switch again, this time leaving us to the dark confines of her deliciously smelling room. It’s a mix of coconut and clean laundry; Mia’s shampoo and her very clean sheets.

Clean sheets.
We’ve already made our way to the sheets. Fuck, I don’t want to stop. But I have to. Me and my stupid mouth! Who sings a panty dropping song like that and then doesn’t want the girl to drop her fucking panties?

Shouldn’t I be hovering over
her
? My poor dick is begging to be let out of these pants, but he’s going to have to wait a little longer.
Shit!
I feel totally emasculated thinking like this, even as Mia straddles me, trying with all her tiny, though persuasive, might to let said dick free. “Mia. Wait. Stop.”

She stops, but her hands remain plastered to my pants button.

Here’s where I sound like the girl, ruining the rugged exterior I tried so hard to impress her with tonight. “It’s our first date. There’s plenty of time for…For our first time.”

I let out an exasperated groan, maybe it’s a whimper. I don’t fucking know. But I snap to and grab her wrists, placing her arms at her side. Away from my fucking over-eager dick.

When we sit up on the bed, eye to eye, I lift my hand up to her face, cupping her perfect little chin and pushing her sexy bangs out of those cocoa brown eyes. Those eyes are now hooded, the enlarged size of her pupils a clear indicator of how turned on she is. How ready. Why the fuck can’t I just be ready? “Mia, I want you. I’ve never wanted someone so badly…ever. But…”

“But what, Declan?” She continues to plea, but I’m blocking it out.
Do the right thing, do the right thing, even if it’s going to kill you.
I’ve lasted this long—a goddamn nineteen year old male virgin—I can wait a little longer until things are more serious with this amazing girl. Fuck it! Here goes everything. “I’m a virgin, Mia.”

Poor girl looks like I’ve just told her I’m a zombie and she’s about to become one too. I take her hand in mine, hoping to redeem myself. To make her understand why. “I’m sorry I just blurted it out like that, and you have no idea how embarrassing this is to admit to you. I definitely want this...and you. Just not tonight. I want to get to know you better.”

After a few very silent, nearly awkward moments, I wonder if I’ve blown the fucking mother load. Maybe she isn’t into me the same way I’m into her. Maybe she just wants the hook up instead of the lifetime. Did I read her wrong?

Bullshit!
Before all the groping and touching, I saw it in her eyes. Goo-goo eyes don’t fucking lie. She had goo-goo eyes for me. The eyes that force the mouth to go blabbing to all your girlfriends about dates like ours, boys like me. I turn away, trying to regain some composure. To ready myself for the disappointment of a wonderful night coming to a catastrophic end. But her delicate fingers work their way into my hair, turning my head so that our eyes can meet again.

I smile because I see it again. The goo-goo effect. It’s back!

She smiles back at me, licking her lips. I think she must be trying to kill me. “Okay. We’ll wait. But can we still make out?”

Making out I can do. I’ll have to tame the devil in my pants, but if that’s all I have to do to keep this amazing thing going—it’ll be damn near impossible, but it’ll be worth it in the end.

“So did you bone her?” Carl doesn’t even look up from his N-64. He’s about to unlock another star for Mario—apparently that supersedes me possibly
boning
someone.

“No, I didn’t bone her, asshole. But if you care to know, she’s definitely my girl and you’re never getting that ID back.” I pull my shirt over my head and kick off my shoes, deflating onto my too-firm bed.

Still seated like a rotting vegetable in front of the television, Carl spews out more of his inane banter. “Well, I hope you get some action soon so that you can move on to the next one and make yourself known for something other than your dreamy, flowing hair. Oh, and speaking of your stupid hair, that girl in Economics keeps asking about you.”

Carl could have just told me that Alicia Silverstone wants to go out with me and I still wouldn’t care. I scrub my hands over my face. “Tell her I’m taken.”

I hear the game controller fall to the floor. Carl shifts in the noisy beanbag chair. “Taken? One fucking date and you’re done? What the fuck man. What happened to making our way around the freshman, maybe even the sophomore, girl populace? You’re gonna waste the whole semester proving how romantic you are and not getting any pussy. When she gets tired of you, or when you cut your hair, she’s going to move on and you’ll still be a fucking virgin!”

My eyes widen as his tone intensifies. I don’t need our whole floor knowing I haven’t screwed a girl yet. “Shut the fuck up, Carl. You have no idea what you’re talking about. This girl is something special, dude. The kind of girl you only wish would look at you...sideways. So stop talking shit about her and about me and worry about yourself getting laid.”

“Fine, man. Marry her for all I care. But don’t cry to me when you wake up one day and you realize you’ve been looking at the same pussy your whole damn life. You and Mia may go on to ride off happily into the sunset, but one day when your silky hair is gray or better yet, non-existent, remember this conversation and say, ‘damn, that good looking bastard, Carl, was right. I wish I’d gotten more pussy in college.’”

What a fucking douche. A funny douche, but still a douche. I laugh, despite my best efforts not to. “I’ll take my chances. Now leave it alone.”

Toothbrushes, check. Overnight pull-ups, check. Pinky the dancing bear and her polka dot tutu, check. I’ve done it more than once by now; you’d think I’d have it covered.

“Mommy, can you pack
The Wizard of Oz
and
Airbuddies
? Daddy got a movie player and popcorn!”

Popcorn?
He knows I don’t let the kids have popcorn. Either he’s trying to piss me off or he plans on spoiling them by giving them things I don’t let them have to win them over. There’s no doubt that they miss having him around every day; things are definitely different. But kids are resilient, and mine have slid right into this separation as if it were any other business trip or extended time apart. Poor things have no idea what’s going on. Shit, I have no idea what’s going on. I’m just taking each day as it comes. And right now my day includes dropping my kids off at their father’s for the weekend, getting a facial, and then going out with Noah again.

But now I feel guilty. I’m their mother, the focus isn’t supposed to be on me. I sacrificed that the minute they came into this world and let out their first squealing cries. How terrible of me to be pawning them off so that I can have a good time. And while I have that good time, I could be setting a lasting impression that will stick with them for years. God, they’re going to hate me! Maybe I should let Declan give them popcorn, take them to Toys ‘R Us for a shopping spree. My only job in life is to keep them out of harm’s way—are my actions harming them?

Who am I kidding? They don’t know about my actions, they’re toddlers. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. But popcorn...that can hurt them. “No popcorn, baby. You know it’s not safe. I’ll pack your favorite Goldfish and we’ll get all the goodies for s’mores on the way.”

My head actually hurts from the inner beating I’m giving myself. My brain’s been sparring with my heart for two months over this, but it’s gotten me nowhere. Declan and I are still apart and Noah and I are growing closer. And while there are days I really miss my husband and the life we created together, I am beginning to love the new life Noah has shown me. But I’d be a fool to think it will always be like this, and I’m not a fool. I have two kids that will always be a part of my life and Noah hasn’t even met them yet. We haven’t talked about how they would fit into his life if we became more serious. So for now, I’m leaving it alone. I don’t want serious. I don’t need serious. I’ve been serious for too long. We’re having fun without any expectations from the other. Fun is just about all I can handle right now.

An hour later, I pull up in front of Declan’s new place. His parents own a bunch of rental properties, and since this house happened to be in between tenants, Declan took it. He moved right in the week he came home from Hong Kong, the whole process so robotic it made me think he’d had the rental lined up ahead of time. When I accused him of that, though, he only shook his head. He was so indifferent, so calm. It hurt, but it made my decision to go forward with Noah that much easier.

I don’t hear from Declan at all, other than to talk about the kids, and that’s when I see him at drop offs. I mostly get the scoop through Grace, who apparently has found a new BFF in my husband. Pisses me the hell off! She’s supposed to be on my side. I mean, I still take precedence over him, but she thinks I’m nuts for pursuing the whole Noah thing. She keeps telling me that Declan is miserable, but as he walks out the door to help us out of the car, I can’t help but notice that he looks fine. Like the whole idea of dropping my kids off to him so I can go on a date is just second nature. The whole transition is just so flipping...weird.

“Hi, girls!!” He bypasses me completely, walking around the car to open the back door and unbuckle the girls from their car seats.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Cara shrieks.

“Hey, baby. I’ve missed you! Let me look at you...I think you’ve grown a few inches since I saw you last.” He takes Charlie out first, hugging Cara in the other arm like his life depends on it. I watch the two kids dangle off of him like monkeys as if I’m a stranger. Is that what I’ve become—an outsider to their relationship with their dad? The thought is so damn unsettling I have to grip the steering wheel, close my eyes and count to ten.

“Hi, Mia.” He finally says. His voice is low, almost a whisper. But it’s not condescending or malicious. It’s just a simple hello.

“Hi, Dec.” I can’t look him in the eye. I’m afraid I’ll see more of that indifference that drives me bananas. Isn’t the opposite of love indifference? Is he already out of love with me? Give me a clue what you’re feeling, goddamn it! Hatred, grief, relief, happiness. Anything! I’ll take anything but that flipping blank look. “Here are their bags. Charlie’s been waking up in the middle of the night to pee so I packed the overnight diapers just in case. Cara mentioned P-O-P-C-O-R-N, but I brought a different S-N-A-C-K because you know how I feel about the other thing. And she wants to watch
The Wizard of Oz
, but fast forward over the part with the flying monkeys because...”

“Take a breath, Mia. I can handle this. We’re good.” He alternates glances between the girls, smiling that Dad-of-the-Year smile. “Right, ladies?”

“Yup. We good, Mommy.” Cara nods her head up and down so fast she looks like a mini bobble head doll.

Charlie, on the other hand, is making lips. Her perfect little pout is plastered in the most pathetic looking frown. I know this look all too well. She’s about to have a crying fit.

I quickly open my arms and Charlie launches into them, clasping her tiny arms around my neck with the power of a mini vice. “What’s the matter, baby?” I whisper in her ear.

But she doesn’t answer. Silent sobs form first, morphing into wails, then howls, that would turn the most uncaring stone of a mother into mush. And I’m far from stone. “Baby girl, you’re going to spend some time with Daddy. He misses you. Don’t you miss him, too?”

Charlie’s sobs become stifled against the skin of my neck. Little thing knows how to hold it back not to make Daddy feel bad.

“Charlie, we’re going to watch the munchkins tonight. I’ll even let you sleep with Pinky Bear. Don’t cry.” Poor Cara is so excited about her slumber party at Dad’s cool new place she’ll do anything to help.