Taking Connor(47)

“I’m not having sex with him tonight.”

She looks away and shrugs. “What happened with Connor last night?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, heat flushing my face. Does she know something? That’s impossible. There’s no way.

“You two were mighty cozy on the dance floor.”

“Nothing happened, Lexi,” I grumble as I toss the contents of my purse into another one that matches my outfit.

“I hope . . .” she pauses, “I hope you’re not trying to rush things with Vick in an attempt to maybe . . . I don’t know . . . stop feelings you might be having for Connor.”

Her words hit me hard because maybe that is what I’m doing, but I deny it anyway. “That’s not what I’m doing,” I assure her. “I really like Vick.”

“Whatever you say,” she huffs, pointing a not so convinced look my way. Heading toward my doorway, she calls over her shoulder, “I’ll be calling in the morning for those explicit details.”



“Wow,” he seems stunned as we stare out over the Red Rocks Amphitheatre. I was worried it might be pretty busy, but we got lucky; I only see a few other people milling about.

“I know. It’s pretty cool,” I add. “You like it?”

His brows rise. “Like it? It’s beautiful.”

“Good.” I smile and take his free hand that isn’t holding the cooler I packed. “I thought maybe you should see a bit of this great state. I point and tell him, “The amphitheatre’s rocks are named; “Creation Rock” on the north, “Ship Rock” on the south, and “Stage Rock” to the east.”

“You’ve got this place memorized, eh?”

I shrug. “It was one of the only places I remember coming with my father when he was still around. My mother would pack a picnic, and we’d all spend the day out here.”

He nods in understanding, and I realize I might have overshared with the dad thing, so I move on. “It’s been called The Garden of Angels, The Garden of Titans, and finally . . . Red Rocks.” I stick my tongue out, and Vick laughs.

“I guess Red Rocks is your least favorite?”

“Come on, Red Rocks versus The Garden of Titans?”

“I have to say I agree. Red Rocks doesn’t quite have the fierceness of The Garden of Titans. So where to?” He holds up the small cooler and shakes it gently. We take a seat at the top near the eastern wall and catch some shade. As I dole out the sandwiches and pasta salad I’ve made, Vick talks about how he’d like to come back and paint Red Rocks soon. After we finish eating, we explore, hand in hand, and share silly little tidbits about ourselves and before I know it, the sun has set, and the sky is lit with stars. We lie on the hood of my car and stare up, his hand holding mine between us. I’m laughing at a joke he’s just told me when I realize he’s silently staring at me.

When my gaze meets his, my body shakes as my laughter ebbs, and he squeezes my hand. He rolls toward me and kisses me, and I do my best to kiss him with the same gusto, but I’m failing miserably. Undeterred, his free hand slides down my arm slowly as we make out until it’s on my thigh seemingly sliding up. I don’t know where he intended his hand to go, but I jerk up and brush it away. What is wrong with me?

He sits up with me. “I’m . . . sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

I have no idea. I mean, really. He touched my thigh. Should it be that big of a deal? But he doesn’t give me a chance to respond. “You like me don’t you?” he asks, his voice steady.

“No, not at all,” I try to joke, hoping to ebb the awkwardness, but it only earns me a slight smile. “Of course, I like you,” I say, seriously.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve . . . felt like this,” he admits, his gaze moving back to the sky. My heart hammers in my chest. Felt like what? I mean, I really like Vick, but is he talking about love already? No. He couldn’t be.

“I just want to make sure I’m not the guy you’re passing time with.”

Whoa. I wasn’t expecting that, and I have to blink a few times to absorb what he just said. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me, Vick,” I finally manage.

“I’m asking are we dating or is this more like . . . something casual?”

“Does sex determine that answer?” I pipe back.

“Well, I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a total *, because I’m not expecting it at any point, but yes. At some point, if we’re dating, I hope we can be . . . intimate together.”

I try to keep my features unreadable. He’s right, if we were to date for a certain amount of time, eventually having sex would be part of it. Why is it so hard for me to imagine? I just dry humped Connor on my kitchen counter last night, yet I can’t muster up a visual of making love to Vick. But maybe that’s because I’m still frazzled over what happened in my kitchen last night.

I can’t say to him, yes, eventually we’ll have sex. For starters, that would be awkward, and secondly, I just . . . can’t. So I answer the only way I can. “I think we’re dating. Aren’t we?” There’s no promise there. No timeline or deadline. That was a safe answer.

He smiles. “I guess I’m not being very clear here. I want to know, are we exclusive?”