Second Chance: another romance for the over 40 by L.B. Dunbar

Author:L.B. Dunbar [Dunbar, L.B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: L.B. Dunbar Writes, Ltd.
Published: 2019-01-25T16:00:00+00:00

28

1991

[Denton]

It’s prom night. Rented tuxedoes. Bright colored dresses. Dance music.

Chris and I planned the night. A hotel room down the ridge in Elton. Kristy and I would spend the night as we always do—hate fucking each other. We’d already gotten into a fight because my cummerbund didn’t match her dress properly. Then she wanted a certain corsage, and Tom’s Grocer didn’t have the kind of flower she wanted, so I got her roses instead. She was pissed.

Chris, on the other hand, had everything planned perfectly—a romantic evening of taking Mati’s virginity. I hated him, but I bit my tongue as I had for years.

“Hotel room. Check. Flowers. Check. Condoms. Check.” Chris claps his hands, rubbing them together. I want to kill him.

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.” I try to tamper the bitterness in my voice.

“I just want it to be special for Mati. She deserves the best.” I don’t miss the hint of glee in his voice, or the candor. He thinks he’s better than me. I take a pull of the flask I have hidden in my jacket. In many ways, he’s right. He deserves her. They’ll settle down in a nice little house, with perfect little babies and become the next first couple of Blue Ridge—something I have no desire to be. I want out of this hellhole. A cross country road trip with Mati, and I’m out of here. I’ll send her back here with my car, but I’m not returning.

Another song winds up, and Mati saunters up to us, bouncing on her heels. She’s been dancing with some girls from the volleyball team. I’m happy to see her so energetic and springy. After her ankle injury, I worried she wouldn’t recover for the simple things like dancing. The broken ankle fucked up her scholarship, though, and I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.

“This is my song,” she shouts, tugging on Chris’s lapel. He lowers to kiss her, chaste and sweet, before glancing around to see if he’ll be caught kissing his long-term girlfriend. He’s not a risk taker like me. I’ve had Kristy in the boys’ locker room and the girls’ bathroom, both times while others could have seen us.

Mati’s pulling at his tux coat, and while he stumbles forward with the force, he’ll refuse her.

“Come dance.” She pouts. She has the cutest curl to her lip, and I don’t know how Chris denies her anything with that look. He’s held out on sex with her, but one look like that from her, and I’d be buried deep, giving her whatever she wanted from me.

“You know I can’t, baby,” he says to her sweetly, just like that too soft kiss he gave her. Mati’s a sexual being. I read it in her body language, and he’s holding her back for whatever reason. Noble? Maybe. A gentleman? Probably. He’s also an idiot for never learning to dance despite his inhibition. He’s among friends here. No one will laugh. Too much, at least.

“I’ll dance with you,” I offer, slipping my flask in my jacket and shucking it for the back of a chair.

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