Eleven Eleven by Micalea Smeltzer

Author:Micalea Smeltzer [Smeltzer, Micalea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-24T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-TWO

VIA

Ilie awake in bed the following night, still musing over every detail. It was simple and perfect in every way and by far the best date I’ve ever been on. I don’t need a fancy restaurant or anything that might be perceived as impressive. Watching him cook was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed. It was a struggle to keep my hands to myself. I wanted nothing more than to pull him back to his bedroom after dinner, but I respected his decision to take sex off the table for now. We should get to know each other in more than just the biblical sense.

When he dropped me off at home last night, he laid a gentle kiss on my mouth, and I gave him one word before disappearing into my apartment.

Yes.

He knew what it meant instantly.

Yes, to another date.

I’m not sure it’s possible for him to top this one, but it doesn’t matter. I want to spend more time with him. I want to know him more.

Does it scare me?

God, yes.

But not enough to stop.

I roll out of bed, head straight to the shower, and twist the ancient, squeaky knob. It takes a few minutes for the water to heat to lukewarm. That’s as good as it gets here, I’ve found, due to the old pipes. I can’t wait to have that little problem sorted out. I dream of the day the bathroom upgrade is done and I can stand in a shower for as long as I’d like without running out of hot water.

When I’m finished, I yank on a pair of sweats and throw my robe on over it. All the while, my body fights the need to shiver.

I run a comb through my hair and work heat protectant through it before blowing it dry. If there’s one thing I take seriously, it’s the health of my hair.

I have the entire day to myself since it’s Sunday. I still haven’t gotten used to having actual free time. Before, work took up the majority of my waking hours. Chase was a workaholic too. It’s no wonder we fell apart. Although, since he was screwing his secretary, I’m not sure workaholic is the correct term for him.

Labels like cheater, philanderer, adulterer would be more apt, and I’m sure I could find even more creative names for him.

Once my hair is dry, I pad out to the kitchen and pop a coffee pod into the maker. When the delicious aroma of fresh coffee hits my nose, I instantly perk up. When it’s ready, I add cream and sugar, mixing it carefully to not make a mess.

With the TV on for background noise, I pull out the boxes of art supplies that arrived a few days ago. I haven’t had much time to go through them, but now I itch to unbox everything. I want to sit down, let my mind wander, and create. It’s been too long since I have, which is laughable, considering I’m opening my own art store. But I’ve been scared of what might show up on the paper if I do.

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