Bouquet Toss (5 page)

We arrive at my apartment and walk together towards the door.  I turn to him and smile, “Well, this was--” and just like that, his mouth is on mine.  His tongue twists greedily in my mouth, making me melt into the wooden deck below our feet.  I turn to unlock my door as Mayson kisses the nape of my neck, pushing my hair aside, making me gasp.  His hands run up and down my back, as I struggle with my lock. His breath is hot as he pulls me closer and closer to him at a feverish pace.  Distracted by his frantic touch, I struggle to twist the key.

Quickly, Mayson reaches for the key and twists it until the door pops open.  Slowing down, he pushes me gently into the apartment, locking the door behind us.  I am completely swept up in him, swirling in a fit of hormones and desire.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asks, nuzzling into my neck, sucking gently on my skin.

“This way,” I say, guiding him slowly towards my bed. All my hesitant thoughts have disappeared. I want this.  I will deal with the consequences in the morning.

The next morning, I awaken to the sound of birds chirping outside my window.  The alarm clock reads 7:00 am; it’s still early.  I roll over smiling, only to find that Mayson is no longer in my bed.  My heart sinks.  He’s left me.  How could I have been so stupid?  Sitting up quickly, I rub the hair from my forehead.  I try my best to hold in my tears, but they are threatening to plummet from the corners of my eyes.  Don’t do it, Daphne.  Do not cry over him, not again.

“Morning,” I hear from the doorway.  Mayson is standing there, dressed only in his boxer shorts, holding a half eaten banana and a large glass of ice water.  Sighing with relief, my pulse starts to return to a normal pace.

“Uh oh,” he says.  “Are you feeling alright?  You look very pale, Daph.”

“Yes, I’m fine,” I mumble, running my fingers through my hair, and yanking the sheet up to conceal my exposed breasts.

“No need to cover up for me, Puddin’. I was enjoying the view.”  He smirks.  That smirk will be my undoing.  I know that now. “Here, I brought you some water.  You had quite a bit of wine last night.”

“Thank you.” I nod, genuinely appreciative of the small gesture.

“I also went into your medicine cabinet. I hope that’s alright.  My head was killing me, so I took a couple Advil.  I brought two for you, as well.”

“Again, thank you,” I muster a small, hesitant smile on my lips.

Mayson places the water in my right hand and the Advil in my left.  My sheet slips down, but my hands are too occupied to fix it.  Mayson grins.

“That’s more like it.” He chuckles.  A small laugh escapes my lips, as well.  I am starting to relax; he’s still here and taking care of me. 

Popping the pills in my mouth, I wash them down with the cold water.  Placing the cup on the nightstand, I gasp.  Mayson is planting small kisses on my shoulder, breathing deeply and caressing my lower back with his hands. 

“Mayson,” I say, almost as if I’m asking a question.  But, then again, maybe I am.

“Yes, Daphne?” He replies between kisses.

“What are we doing?” Never one to go with the flow, I had to know what on earth he was doing here, stroking my skin, nipping my freckles and being altogether way too charming for my own good.

“Didn’t you have a good time last night, Puddin’?  You seemed to….” He’s still kissing me as he asks.  Murmuring into my neck, stroking my hair and caressing his way up to my ears: he knows they are my weakness.

“Yes, of course. It was incredible.  Just trying to get my bearings, that’s all” I respond honestly.  He pulls away, sits up straight and looks me in the eye.

“I want to see you again, if that is alright with you,” he says, reaching out to stroke my hair.  He twirls several strands in his fingertips as he gazes at me, his green eyes shining in the morning sun.  Mayson seems genuine, sincere and looking for my approval of his feelings toward me.  “I need to get back to campus later today, but I can come up this weekend. And then, we can take it from there.  At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.”  He kisses my hand and smiles warmly.

“That sounds nice, Mayson.”  And it does.

Drinks

I have waited three very long, very excruciating days to see Mayson again. Finally, Friday afternoon arrives and he will be here shortly.  I’ve changed my outfit five times, groaning and rolling my eyes at each wardrobe choice.  Nothing seems good enough.  My nerves are getting the best of me as I anxiously await my houseguest, lover, possible future boyfriend.  As always, I’m worried about the future.  I’m worried about the distance between us, worried that this means something different to him than it does to me.  I am trying so hard to stop the worries, but they creep up again and again as I attempt to clean my apartment for his arrival.

Finally, a car door closes in the small parking lot outside my window.  My heart leaps into my throat and I glance at the clock.  It’s 7:00pm and he is right on time.  I hear him climbing my wooden staircase that leads to the back door.  Waiting for him to knock (not wanting to seem too eager), I inhale deeply in an attempt to calm my nerves.

I twist the knob and open the door with a smile.  Mayson has an enormous grin on his face and a large bouquet of stargazer lilies in his hand.  He knows they are my favorite flowers.

“Wow, you remembered
,
” I marvel softly.

“Yep,” he smiles, obviously proud of himself, “It was years ago that you mentioned you loved these.  I thought it’d be fun to surprise you.”  He’s obviously looking for validation.

“They’re perfect, Mayson.” I say dreamily, almost in a trance.  What is he doing to me?

After a few hours of polite conversation and innocent flirting, we head down to a local bar for dinner and drinks with Morgan and Matt.  Morgan has taken it upon herself to assess our current situation to see if she approves of Mayson’s intentions towards me.  She and I went to different Universities, so she has never met him, even though I have told her so much over the years.  With Morgan’s determination to keep me safe and happy, this should be an interesting evening.

“So, you’re an architect, yes?”  Morgan asks before sipping her Long Island Iced Tea, our favorite drink.

“Yes, I am.  I love it.  Very fulfilling work for me,” Mayson replies confidently.  If Morgan had planned on making him squirm tonight, it doesn’t seem likely to happen.  He rubs his hand on my thigh as he elaborates on his career.  The nerve endings in my leg spring to life against his fingers; it’s exhilarating.  I glance at the clock, hoping that soon the evening will come to an end with my cousin and her boyfriend.  I am aching for Mayson’s touch, and not just on my thigh.

“Speaking of fulfilling careers, Daphne is such a fantastic teacher.  Her students love her.  Has she told you about any of them?”

“Um…her students?”  Mayson asks, taken aback.  Morgan nods assertively, raising a lone eyebrow.  “Uh, no, I don’t think they have come up in conversation yet.”

“Ah,” Morgan says, nodding to herself.  The subject needs to be changed as tension starts to creep into the space between my cousin and my date.

“Morgan, let’s get another round.  Everyone’s drinks are getting low.” I say, standing up and giving her a look that warns her not to protest.

We walk to the bar, arm in arm.  “Okay, Morgan, what was that all about back there?  Why are you giving him such an attitude?”

“Oh,
c’mon
, Daphne!  Of course I’m giving him attitude. You sulked over him for years, and I mean, years.  He broke your heart.  And if you’re not going to be protective of your own heart, then I have to be!”

“He means a lot to me, Morgan.  If you don’t give him a chance…”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t come around eventually, Daphne.  But, he has to give me a reason to like him.  You are too wrapped up in him to think clearly.  Obviously, I have to do your thinking for you!”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Morgan.  I know that I should be apprehensive,” I say defensively.

“But, are you being apprehensive?  You look all starry eyed to me.  He reached over to touch your leg and you practically swooned!”  I look at her in shock. She saw that?  “Yeah, I noticed, Daphne.   Look, just be careful, please.”

When we return to the table, Mayson and Matt are engaged in polite conversation.  Clearly, my buddy Matt is attempting to repair the damage his girlfriend may have created.  I always knew he was on my side.  Morgan slides in next to Matt who wraps his arms around her.  Feeling a bit uneasy, I sit down next to Mayson, waiting for some sort of indication that everything is ok.  He kisses me gently on the lips and whispers into my ear.

“You were gone so long.  I missed you.”

Resisting the urge to tease him about how my little trip to the bar is nothing compared to a four-hour flight to
Denver
, I hold back.  In this moment, I realize how terrified I am to scare this man away. Whether by Morgan’s grilling, my teasing or anything else that might come about, I am sick with worry that things will come to an end before I even get a real chance with Mayson.  Quickly I finish my drink to escape the anxiety.

The rest of the evening is more relaxed, aided mostly by the increase of alcohol in our systems.   Morgan pulls me on the dance floor and Mayson is happy to watch me as I sing and dance, swiveling my hips to the music.  I feel so alive and nothing can spoil it.  I gesture for Mayson to join me and he shakes his head and mouths the word “no” with a large smile on his masculine lips.  My mouth forms a dramatic pout but I continue dancing with Morgan.

Two more songs come and go as Morgan and I continue to laugh, twist, shake and act like complete fools on the dance floor.  I glance back at the table and see that Mayson is on his phone, no longer watching us.  He seems upset, perhaps due to how loud the bar has become.  He walks away from the table to complete his call.  Wondering who is on the other end of the line, my thoughts get cloudy and turn dark.  The thought of him talking to another woman makes me sick to my stomach.

“What’s wrong, Daphne?” Morgan yells above the music, “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m fine.  I think I’m just getting tired.” 

Moments later, I feel an arm wrap around my waist, his woodsy scent invading my senses as he nuzzles into my neck. 

“Hey, beautiful girl,” Mayson whispers into my ear.  Morgan takes this as her cue to leave us alone on the dance floor. 

“So, you’ve decided to dance?” I ask as seductively as possible.

“Well, you know I’m not really a dancer, but I couldn’t resist how sexy you looked. I had to get out here before someone else beat me to it.” He brushes my bangs away from my eyes.  “I’m not so good at sharing.” He adds.

“Me neither,” I reply, staring into his eyes.  He glances away briefly and then holds my gaze for what feels like minutes.  Cupping my chin in his hands, he kisses me passionately.

“Let’s go home, Puddin’”

“Daphne, wake up.”  Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I peer at the clock on my nightstand.  5:45 a.m.?  Ugh!  Why is Mayson awake and fully dressed in my bedroom?

“I have to get back to campus.  There’s a problem with the plans.  They need me back as soon as possible.”  His tone is a bit dismissive.  My heart sinks.

“Really? I thought you might stay the weekend.” I’m surprised that he didn’t mention anything earlier.  Perhaps this was the phone call he received last night.  I guess that would explain the look of aggravation on his face.

“I know. I’d hoped to do that.  It’s just not possible, Daphne. I’m sorry.   I have a few more days on campus and then I’m headed back to
Denver
. I wanted to talk with you more about that while we were together this weekend.  I really wish that I could stay here with you.”  He gazes into my eyes, his tone now sincere and less apprehensive. 

“No, I understand.  Your project is important. I know it comes first.” I reply doing my very best not to seem to
o disappointed.  This is remindi
ng me so much of our differences back in school; Mayson putting architecture first, and me pushing back against his priorities.  I was determined to be different this time.  After all, this was his career and I had to respect that.

Mayson kisses me goodbye, and just like that, he is gone again, and I’m left wondering what the hell is going on with us.  Is Mayson worth the anxiety in my chest, the worries on my brain, the aching in my heart?  Time will tell.

I’m tempted to call Elise on her cell phone, but I’d never forgive myself for disturbing her on her honeymoon.  I’ll just have to wait for her to return as her guidance means so much.  For now, sleep calls me once again.  Rolling over in my bed, doing my best to block any thought of Mayson from my heart or my head, I slowly fall into a restless sleep.

Kim

“You don’t seriously believe this is going to tell us anything, do you Morgan?”

“Who knows?  My friend Cheryl swears by this woman.  She goes to see her every year and she always gets the best advice.  And so many of her predictions have actually come true.”

“Sounds like self fulfilling prophecy to me.” My cynicism is so transparent.