The Two-Night One-Night Stand (11 page)

Steam rises from the pizza that is placed in front of me. I’m anxious and fold up the first slice, shoving it into my mouth. The hot cheese burns my entire mouth and grease goes sliding down my chin to the front of my sweater. Shit! The silver napkin holder on my table is empty. I plop the pizza back down on the plate. “Hey, do you guys have a napkin?” I call out to the back of the head in the next booth. A bearded guy turns, sees my greasy mess, and grabs for a bunch of napkins and politely gets up from the table to walk them over to me. I rub the napkins down my chest, sopping up whatever grease I can. It doesn’t do much good. I have a feeling I just ruined my favorite sweater.

“Holly?”

I look up and see Matthew. But I know it’s not really him. The Snapple thing made me think of him, so between that and the booze, I just think it’s him.

“Holly?” the guy questions again.

“Matthew?” Wait. Is it actually him?

“Holly?”

“Matthew?”

“Holly?”

“Matthew?”

“Okay, let me see if I can help you two figure this out.” The bearded guy steps in. “Is your name Holly?” I nod. “Good, we’re getting somewhere.” He laughs. “And yes, this
is
Matthew. We’re all clear on this? You’re Holly.” He points to me then moves his extended finger over toward Matthew. “And this is Matthew.”

I stare at Matthew’s lopsided grin and messy brown hair. He adjusts his glasses, forcing me to zero in on his hazel eyes. All the alcohol coursing through my system can’t stop the heated pink tint from staining my cheeks.

“I’m Jeremy,” bearded guy introduces himself. “Holly, why don’t you come sit with us?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just scoops my pizza plate and Snapple bottle up from the table and places them down on the table next to Matthew. “Have a seat.”

I slowly slide out of the booth and go to take my new place next to Matthew. He’s frozen, stuck at the end of the booth, leaving no room for me to sit.

“Matthew, scooch over so Holly can sit.” Jeremy swooshes his hand to the right, motioning for Matthew to move over. “You’ll have to forgive him, we hit the bar pretty hard tonight and over the course of the night we learned a few things about each other.” He strokes his beard. “For example, Matthew learned that I’m gay, and I learned that he’s a lightweight.”

Matthew’s drunk too? That makes me feel a million times better. He moves over in the booth and I sink down next to him. Really close. We both look down at our thighs pressed up against each other’s. A jolt of electricity sizzles through me as memories of our night together play out in my mind. I hold my breath while Matthew does the opposite, exhaling a long stream of air.

“How are you?” Matthew immediately starts running a nervous hand through his thick hair. “I mean… how are you?”

We’re so close. I have to keep reminding myself to breathe. “I’m good… ya know, good.”

“You look good,” he says, giving me a side glance.

“So do you.” My eyes try to stay set on one place on his handsome face, but a surge of adrenaline combined with the gallon of alcohol I consumed is making my eyeballs bobble around.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

“Very.” He leans in, bringing his face up close to mine. I can smell the pizza on his breath. His tasty lips are gleaming from the grease. If I was sober, this image would probably send me running. “Maybe it means something.”

I wish he hadn’t said that; it plays right into my superstitious side. My horoscope did mention something about romance returning. Is this romance? Or is it just drunken pizza lust?

The same ache he provoked last time returns. I squeeze my legs together, hoping to squelch the ache; the only thing this accomplishes is to send a rippling shudder up my spine and cause my nipples to stiffen against the smooth satin of my bra. It’s official, the combination of white wine and Fireball is the equivalent to female Viagra.

He licks his lips in a delightfully sensual way. I lick mine. And next thing I know, I’m tasting his delicious lips. Did I lean in and start this kiss or did he? I get a taste of pepperoni as his tongue swirls over mine possessively. It makes me hungry… hungry for him. My hand wanders up to his thick hair and tugs.

Jeremy clears his throat. “Wow, this is incredibly uncomfortable.” We break apart, both of us startled by what just occurred, and Jeremy laughs. “I don’t know what’s happening here or how you two know each other, but I think this is my cue to leave.”

“No, you don’t have to go. This is just, we just….”

Matthew doesn’t do too well explaining, so I jump in. “We just, this is just….” Fucking-A, I don’t do any better.

“No worries, while you two were ‘just-ing,’ I called for a ride, and shockingly they’re already here.” He slips into his coat. “Good night, hope you have fun.
Something tells me you will
,” he mumbles under his breath with a grin. “Matthew, good time tonight, I’ll see you at work, and Holly, it was nice meeting you.” He makes a quick exit out the door.

“I didn’t mean to kiss you like that.” Matthew moves over a few inches. It actually helps not having his body touching mine.

“Me either.”

“I drank a lot, and you’re so pretty, and I just reacted impulsively,” Matthew says, staring down at the table. “It’s been a really weird night.”

“It’s been a really weird night for me too.”

He takes a large bite of his pizza. “I thought the pizza would help to absorb some of the alcohol.”

“Well, then I guess I should have some too.” I giggle, pick up my slice, and shove it into my mouth.

“It’s just… you really are so beautiful.”

I swallow my pizza. “Stop.”

“I’m serious. Absolutely gorgeous.”

Even though I know it’s the booze, he’s just so damn sexy and I devour his sweet words. After a night like this, hearing someone say those things is exactly what I need. I forget about all the awkwardness of our first encounter. This time I know it’s me who leans forward and initiates the kiss. And it is no little kiss. My tongue parts his lips, fighting its way inside, desperate to get another taste of him. His hands stay at his side, unsure at first, but then he relents and the tips of his fingers reach up to my cheeks. I pull my mouth away from his to whisper, “Come home with me again.”

“What?” His hand latches on to my backside and pulls me in closer. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Just like last time, this is crazy and moving way too fast. But I don’t give a shit.

“Hey, guys, get a room!” the guy behind the counter shouts over to us.

Matthew loosens his viselike grip on my ass and backs away. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Whyyy?” It comes out whiny. “’Cause of the pizza guy?”

“No. You’re drunk…. and I’m drunk. My mom said this is the wrong way to treat a girl.”

“Your mom said?” My mouth drops. There’s no way I heard that right. “As in like, your mom knows? You told her about our night together?”

“No. Yes. No.” His hand rakes madly over and over through his hair. There’s a dazed drunken look on his face. “I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

I’m drunk but not too drunk to know that he’s adorable. I link my hands behind his neck, his addictive lips dangerously close to mine. “You’re a weirdo.”

“I know I am.” He nods in agreement, which only adds to his adorableness.

He has no choice in the matter. I’m drunk. Horny. And I want to do dirty, dirty things with this adorably sexy weirdo.

“Matthew, you’re coming home with me.”

I STRUGGLE WITH the key to my apartment. I used my app to call for the ride this time, using my address as the destination. Holly’s drunken giggles and teasing insinuation that I still lived at home had provoked me to prove to her that I didn’t. Why did I make that asinine comment about what my mother said? Why?

Ha! If she thinks that’s bad, you should tell her some of things I’ve said.

Terrific. Here’s the Peen-nut gallery. Because my judgement isn’t skewed enough right now.

Please, you’re lucky I’m here at all after what went down earlier with that bearded dude. Thank God this chick showed up, or you might have never heard from me again. Now, let’s get her out of those jeans.

“Your apartment is nice. Very clean.” She shakes some snow from her hair and does a quick inspection. “Do you keep it this clean? Or do you have a little help from
someone
?”

I know what she’s implying. “No help from Mom. It’s all me, I keep it this way.”

She shifts her gaze from the surroundings to me and does a wobbly yet seductive walk over to where I’m standing. Her lips tease, coming in close without actually touching mine. My breath hitches with the anticipation of what’s to come.

“I need to use the bathroom,” she whispers, toying with the buttons on my shirt. She gets two undone before I break away and lead her down the small hall to the bathroom.

Once she’s out of sight, I become blisteringly aware of the bleariness lifting and my senses starting to return. Shit. I’m sobering up. Maybe not completely but enough where I’m starting to second-guess this whole situation. Holly’s still drunk, but if I’m not I can’t do this.

I will cut you!

Shut up. I need to think.

What happened to I’m in charge?

Lost in my internal struggle, I don’t hear Holly sneak back up on me. Her arms wrap around me from behind and her eager hands travel down to the front of my jeans. “Don’t tell Mommy, but you know what I’m gonna do to you?” She undoes the top button and tugs down the zipper. Her hand slips inside my boxers and grasps.

Here we go. Talk to me, baby!

“You like dirty talk, Matthew?” she murmurs into my ear, and starts stroking. My dick stiffens instantly, letting her know that fuck yeah, I do. “I need this cock, Matthew. You made me come so hard last time, I need you to do it again,” her teeth nip at my earlobe, “and again.”

Wait. This is wrong.
A new voice emerges. It’s definitely not Peen, but it’s not my brain either. It’s my conscience.
You know you can’t do this. Not like this.

Fuck.

“Women absorb alcohol into their bloodstream faster and metabolize it slower than men,” I say in a gravelly voice, easing her hand back up to a safe zone.

“Is that a
fact?
” She gives me a haughty smirk. Her hand ignores my guidance and travels right back down. “Is that your way of saying I’m drunk?”

I’m trying to do the right thing but she is making it nearly impossible. Her hand wraps around me and tugs. A long breath hisses out through my teeth. I don’t want her to stop. I want her sprawled across my bed, opening up her legs to me. But I do know this is wrong. What I need is for Peen and my brain to collaborate with my conscience to figure out a solution. Fast.

“I’m so wet.” Holly moans, not relenting on the dirty talk.

Bing. We think we have something.

I stop Holly’s wandering hand one more time. “Give me two seconds.” I wrench my jeans back up and make a beeline into the kitchen where she can’t see me. In the cabinet over my stove is a dusty bottle of Jack. I grab it and tear off the cap. Tilting my head back, I chug until I’m sputtering up the old whisky, coughing out drops of the amber booze. I grab a paper towel, wipe my mouth and wait.

Nothing.

I go back in for another long swig. This time heat settles in my stomach. I push my glasses up the bridge of my nose and eye the bottle. I’ve just consumed the equivalent of at least four to five shots. Slowly, I begin to blink in a hazy satisfaction. We’re back to a level playing field. Admittedly, I know this is not a brilliant solution. But my half-drunk, horny self isn’t looking for brilliant right about now.

I roll my shoulders and tip my head to the left until I hear it crack. Let’s do this.

“Show me your bedroom,” Holly says seductively when I return. Her jeans are already off. She tugs down the front of her sweater and tweaks her backside out, posing like an old-fashioned pin-up. Her sexiness is off the charts. She is a top-notch stunner. I hook my arm around her waist, fervently pulling her in. My mouth crashes against hers and she arches up into me. I’m tempted to lift her up and carry her into my room, but the wobble in my step makes me reach for her hand instead.