We stand there staring at each other for a few seconds. We seem to do that a lot lately. I wish I knew what she is thinking. I’ve wanted to ask her something all afternoon, but was waiting to make sure that this thing between us was real first. That I still feel the same as I did before we found out each other’s true identity. Now that I know my feelings are not fleeting, I want to make future plans with her. I break our spell and speak.

  “Quick question for you…” I start confidently.

  “Shoot,” she counters.

  I find myself nervous all of a sudden. My heart rate elevates and my palms are unusually sweaty. I shift my feet back and forth and take a moment to compose my thoughts. I am acting completely ridiculous and am embarrassed for myself. No woman has ever disarmed me so easily. I defend murderers for fuck’s sake! Get your shit together, Santino! Worst she can do is say no.

  I straighten my spine and square my shoulders. I grab her hands and look her in the eyes. “There’s this annual charity ball I need to attend next month…for work. I have never taken a date before…” I begin but lose confidence. She must sense it, though, because she gives my hands a squeeze, encouraging me to continue.

  I give an ironic “hmpf” and shake my head. “I just don’t know what’s going on with me. I am usually so self-assured, so secure. Women don’t throw me off kilter. Nobody frazzles me. But you… every time we share space I feel like a kid with a crush on his teacher. The things you do to me…”

  Delilah’s eyes light up in appreciation, as a shy blush creeps up her neck to her cheeks. That reaction right there gives me the confidence to continue.

  “As I was saying… there’s a charity ball that I go to every year for work. I have never taken a date before, but I would feel privileged if you would do me the honor of being my date for the evening, m’lady,” I get out in one breath. I pretend to snatch the feathered cap off my head and extend my arm across my waist, bowing at the hips as they did in medieval times, a gesture of respect.

  She laughs heartily and gives a love tap on the shoulder. “Stand up, you goof ball!”

  I stand back up straight and give her a wink. “Well? What do you say?”

  “Really? Are you sure you want…” Delilah begins but stops midsentence when she sees my face drop slightly.

  I know where she is going with this, and I will not allow her to say it. “Yes, I am sure. And it will be my pleasure,” I say with resolve. “In fact, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” I add with finality.

  “Well, okay, then,” she says with an adorable giggle, and that’s that. Conversation closed.

  She searches her purse for her keys and pulls them out quickly. She is so organized that I am sure she has a special spot in there designated just for her keys. She jingles them around until she finds the exact one she wants, and then puts the winning key in the hole. She turns to me one last time to say goodbye, but I cut her off.

  “So…ah…how about a cup of coffee?” I ask with a naughty smirk. Hey, a guy’s gotta try, right?

  Delilah rolls her eyes at me and chuckles because we all know what that’s code for. “Goodbye, Santino. See you Monday morning, bright and early,” she says.

  She gives me a chaste peck on my lips and sends me on my way. I don’t blame her, though. This was our first real date after all. The best date I have ever been on, if I do say so myself. She really knows how to make me laugh, and she is so witty, always keeping me on my toes. But at the same time, I feel completely relaxed and at ease. Since we got to know each other the way that we did, I feel like I can be myself around her, not worry about being judged. Then again, I don’t think Delilah has a mean bone in her body.

  I really don’t want to say goodnight. I don’t want the date to end. I can’t wait until I see her again. Fortunately, I’ll see her at work, so at least I know it will only be two days until we are together again. Ugh! I am turning into a chick!

  I take the stairs on my way out, two at a time, trying to burn a little sexual energy. My McLaren is still in the shop from my accident last Wednesday, and there is no way in hell I would subject Delilah to my piece of shit rental, so I rented an open-air jeep for our date. I always wanted to drive one, and I knew if anyone would enjoy it, it would definitely be her. And, of course, I was right. She is so easy-going and free-spirited. Just another thing I love about her. Did I just say love again? Shit, I mean like… just another thing I like about her.

  I walk leisurely to the jeep, keeping an eye on her bedroom window, waiting for the light to switch on. I see her silhouette pass the window and groan at how sexy she is. It’s going to be another long, lonely night. I think I am going to hit the gym on my way home.

  ♫♩♫♩♫♩♫

  Delilah

  I shuck off my clothes and throw them on the floor, as they smell like zoo funk. I go into my bathroom and start the shower, knowing that I have four minutes until the water heats up. Then I return to my bedroom and fling my mildly stinky body on my bed. I know I need to shower because my hair has that outside smell from being in the open jeep. But it can wait a few minutes, at least until I have hot water. I flop down on my back, arms stretched to the side, and sigh. That had to be the best date I have ever been on. He was charming and romantic. He was naughty and caring. He made me laugh, and always keeps me on my toes. Perfection.

  I gather myself off the bed and head to the shower for a much needed cleansing. As I am shampooing my hair, I can’t help but wonder what Nick is doing right now. Did he go straight home? Is he preparing for another date with someone else? Wait…it’s Saturday night… is he getting ready to go to Club M? I gasp at the thought and then start choking on the water and shampoo that I swallow. No, he agreed with my rules. I guess this is where the trust issue comes in to play.

  I finish up in the shower, dry off, and look for my phone. I need to call Charlie. My mind is running away with itself. I find it in the back pocket of my dirty jeans that are strewn on the floor. I unlock it to call her, and low and behold, I have a text.

  Nick: I had a great time. ;)

  I take a deep breath in relief. I am so glad it wasn’t just me. I am feeling a little flirty, so I shoot him a back a quick one.

  Delilah: Are u winking at me?

  I like flirty Nick and he shoots back.

  Nick: No, I had something in my emoticon eye :)~

  I let out a little laugh to myself, enjoying the banter.

  Delilah: Ha ha, very funny, goober! Now your emoticon is sticking his tongue out at me

  Nick: Should I be jealous?

  Delilah: Nah, he’s not my type. I tend to go after men who are more than just a colon

  Nick: lol. Am I your type?

  I sit and deliberate for a minute before I answer. I don’t want to show my cards too early. He still has to earn me back after the whole Nico/LaLa debacle.

  Delilah: Oh, please. You are every girl’s type, Nick

  Let’s see what he has to say about that. I am so feeding into his ego.

  Nick: I don’t want to be anyone’s type but yours

  I melt at his words. We go back and forth a few more times, but I make sure to change the subject to ones that are more neutral. Half an hour later we are still texting, but have come full circle back to sex. This is getting sticky. It is so easy to misinterpret people through text, so I decide to call him. We have never spoken on the phone outside of basic work questions before. He picks up on the second ring.

  “Miss me already?” He asks all cocky.

  I laugh at his temerity. “You know I do. What are you doing? Getting ready for a hot date? Night on the town? Quick trip to Club M?” I slip in, trying not to sound nosy.

  “I am, aren’t’ I? he asks again. He wants me to tell him that he is exactly my type. Jerk! All of those questions that I threw at him, venturing on my little phishing expedition, and he only focuses on the fact that I haven’t told him if he is my type. Talk about persistence.

  “You are what?” I ask demurely.

  “Don’t play coy with me, Doll,” he retorts. He tries to sound all mean and intimidating, but I can hear him smiling.

  “Me? Never…” I say, still not answering his original question.

  “You are avoiding the question, LaLa.”

  The last time he called me LaLa I was really angry because I thought he was trying to manipulate me. But, this time, it feels so natural.

  “I like it when you call me ‘LaLa,’” I whisper, and can hear him smile again.

  “Me, too,” he says softly.

  “I’m gonna go now. I’m getting sleepy,” I say, trying to shut this emotional roller coaster down.

  “Okay. I think I may join you…going to sleep,” he adds with a snicker.

  “Good night, honey. Sweet dreams,” I wish for him.

  “Good night, sweetheart. Dream of me,” he says, and I know he means it.

  I plug my phone into its charger, turn off the lights, crawl back into bed, and fall asleep rather quickly. And I do…dream of him.

  ♫♩♫♩♫♩♫

  A tiny bit more Delilah…

  The morning comes too quickly, and I don’t want to get out of bed. My entire night was consumed with thoughts and dreams of Nick. Actually, if I am going to be honest, Nico made an appearance or two. Maybe I shouldn’t declare him completely dead. I had to pee in the middle of the night, but the dream was so good, I refused to let my body awaken. It felt so real that I think I ended up orgasming in my sleep. Or maybe I just peed in my bed!

  I spend the morning being lazy around the house. I strip my bed and do laundry, straighten up the other rooms, and stay in my pajamas as long as I can until it is time to get dressed and run errands. I get all of my food shopping done for the week, as well as stop at a few dress shops to scope out ideas for the ball Nick asked me to go to with him. All he told me is that it is black tie, and going to be full of stuffy lawyers. I have no idea what I am going to wear. Do I go sexy or professional? While window shopping, Charlie calls to see if I want to meet for a late lunch. I haven’t eaten much today, so I say, “sure.”

  Charlie spends most of lunch pumping me for information about my date with Nick. I try to give her enough information to quell her curiosity, but at the same time, I keep most of the juicy stuff close to the vest. And forget about all of the personal information we shared. That she will never know. I actually feel quite protective of the information – and him. I know that it is rare for him to show that side of himself to anyone - to be vulnerable and exposed - personally and professionally - and I value the trust that we’ve developed over the past months. So, no, I will not share it with Charlie, or anyone, no matter how pushy she gets. And lord knows she’s got that down pat. I do, however, tell her what happened at the burger joint, and how he called me his “girlfriend.” We both squeal like sorority sisters when I am done with the story.

  Just as she begins to berate me again, my phone bings with a text.

  Nick: thinking of u

  I am sure I light up in a face splitting grin and sigh an “ahh” out loud. Then I realize that it took him all day to text me something. So, feeling a bit feisty, I decide to screw with him a little.

  Delilah: I’m sorry, who is this?

  ♫♩♫♩♫♩♫

  Nick

  I am finding it difficult to sleep after hanging up with Delilah. Not only was the date fantastic, but then talking to her on the phone for hours reminded me of being in high school. It was flirty and fun and I really didn’t want to hang up. But I knew she was tired from me dragging her around the zoo all day, along with a few other activities that we engaged in. Since I can’t sleep, I decide to go to my home office and work for a few hours. I would like to catch up on some work so that maybe Delilah and I can cut out of work early one day for our next date. Instead of working, I find myself surfing the web, looking at cocktail dresses. What the hell? I decide right then and there that I am going to buy her the dress I want her to wear to the charity ball next month. This way, I know that sexy Delilah will be on my arm, not frumpy Delilah…who I am very attracted to as well… so don’t get all crazy on me! I will call my personal shopper in the morning to take care of this.

  Of course, that would be way too easy, and the control freak in me is not having any of that. Plus, I don’t think Delilah would appreciate a strange woman picking out her clothes. No, if I am going to do this for her, then I am going to do it right, and be the one to actually pick it out. So, I spend the next few hours looking at dresses. By 2:00 am, my head is spinning and I have developed a splitting headache. Do I want full length, cocktail, or tea length? Off the shoulder, one shoulder, strapless, or halter? A line, empire, or mermaid? Silk, satin, organza, or lace? Well, that’s an easy one. Side slit or back slit? Backless or plunging neckline? And don’t let me get started on color. Holy hell! I slam down my laptop and head to bed. This is going to have to wait a few days. Maybe I should ask Carmella for help.

  I toss and turn most of the night. My thoughts waiver between nightmares of killer dresses and wet dreams of LaLa’s incredible mouth wrapped around my cock. To say my head is fucked up is an understatement. I sleep in as late as possible, knowing that I don’t have any concrete plans for the day, and I won’t see Delilah until tomorrow. I consciously have to tell myself not to call or text her again today.

  I have an early lunch, since I pretty much skipped breakfast, then decide to give Calvin a shout to see if he wants to meet up to shoot some hoops. Club M is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so he is usually up for some physical activity since he doesn’t have to go into work later tonight or tomorrow. We meet at his place because the condo has private courts and play a couple games of one-on-one. He embarrassingly kicks my ass four games to two, and I give up. I just can’t concentrate. All I can think about is Delilah and where I want to take her next. And when I am going to taste her sweet pussy again. I chug a bottle of water, get my shit together, and wrap a towel around my neck. Then I sit on the bench next to Calvin.

  “Dude, I am screwed,” I say to him, hesitant to open up. I don’t like having these personal conversations with anyone, but I have known Calvin for years, since my law school days, and he is good peeps. In fact, besides Delilah, he is the only other person to know the truth about my mother.

  “I noticed you were a little distracted out there. I know you suck, but, my man, you sucked hard today,” he replies.

  I chuckle with him because we both know he is dead on. “I just can’t get her out of my head, bro. She worked her way under my skin and took residence,” I say honestly.

  “Ooooh, you’re in looooove, playa,” he teases, with an underlying seriousness.

  I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Fuck me.” I don’t confirm or deny his accusation, but in my heart, I know he’s right.

  “So? What are you going to do about it? Cause if you don’t want her, you can send that fine white ass my way,” he says, trying to goad a reaction from me.

  “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  Calvin grins and nods knowingly. He stands up to leave, says “later,” and walks away. I guess my jealous reaction to his comment about wanting Delilah answered his original theory. Do I love her? Holy fuck, I think I do.

  I sit here for a few more minutes, enjoying the fresh air, and the peace and quiet. Except there is no peace, not in my head, at least. Everything about the past few months is swirling around confusing the fuck out of me. These feelings I am having, physically and emotionally, and the ache I feel when she is not around worries me. What if, at the end of the day, I am not enough for her, and she just ups and leaves. I don’t think I could survive that.

  As I head home, I debate whether or not to call her. We said at the end of the date that we would just see each other at work on Monday. But, the pansy ass that I am, misses her too much to wait. So I decide to take the easy way out and just text her.

  I force myself to wait until I get home, which is utter torture, because I am an instant gratification type of guy, but I know it will be worth it. I stink to high hell from playing ball with Calvin, so I decide to take a shower first. Once clean, I slip on a pair of comfortable workout pants, grab a bottle of water, then sink down into my leather sectional. Ahh! Now…it’s time to see what my little bit is up to.

  Nick: Thinking of u

  Delilah: I’m sorry, who is this?

  What the hell? She better be fucking with me.

  Nick: The man of your dreams

  A few minutes pass and I am getting really impatient. I distract myself by going to the kitchen and getting another cold bottle of water. It is really hot out there today, and I was sweating buckets on the courts. When I get back to the couch, there is a text waiting.

  Delilah: Christian?

  Christian? Who the hell is Christian. Okay, I need to keep calm. Delilah is a smart girl; I have to assume she is still messing with me, so I play along.

  Nick: Guess again, doll.

  Delilah: Gideon? Ethan?

  What? I stand up quickly and knock over my bottle of water. Shit! I am stunned, shocked, and shaken. How many guys is she seeing? Before I can respond, another text comes in.

  Delilah: No, No…this must be Jesse. You’re the one that kept me up late last night. What you did with that peanut butter. Omg, it was so hot!

  Enough with the texting! I pick up the phone and dial her number; she picks up on the first ring. She doesn’t say hello right away. All I can hear is her laughing so hard that she is snorting through her nose. When she finally calms down, I speak first.

  “Who the hell are all of these guys and how many are you fucking?” I shout into the phone. I don’t even know if she can hear me over her laughing. The fact that she is laughing should clue me in to the reality that she is just screwing with me, but the mere thought of another man touching her has me so riled up that I can’t think straight.

  She must hear the seriousness in my voice because she stops laughing, but then states, “Oh, Nick, come on. Don’t get your panties in a wad.”