Chapter 7

EMILY

I pat the front of my dress as I get out of my car, nervously looking toward my new (and very unknown) friend, Mr. Freeway himself.

“Hey there,” he greets me as he gets out from his Mercedes, walking toward me as he ignores the long lines of cars just to his side. With each step he takes, I can’t help but wonder more and more about why exactly I stopped in the middle of a freeway. Swear to God, sex with Wine Bar really fried my brain; that much is for sure.

“Hey,” I repeat back to him, pressing my ass back against the door of my car. Whoever this guy is, he’s much taller than me… And not only that, he’s so freaking hot! With his black shirt and confident posture, he looks like he belongs in one of these movies where they’re plotting to rob a bank or a casino or something. Seriously, is there such as a thing as too cool? Because this guy definitely looks as if he’s too cool.

“Marshall Kane,” he tells me, offering me his hand and waiting for me to grab it. Hesitantly, I reach for it. I tremble slightly as I feel his fingertips brushing against the inside of my wrist, and I feel an electric discharge racing down my spine.

“Uhm… Emily,” I reply awkwardly, running my free hand through my hair as I offer him one nervous smile. “So, is this how you make friends? You stop people on the freeway?” I ask him, trying to sound more confident than how I’m feeling.

“Not really. But I decided to open an exception for you,” he chuckles, his big fingers still gripping my hand. When he finally lets go, the pleasant warmness of his hand lingers in mine.

The sound of the Spice Girls comes out of my car and I realize belatedly that my moon roof is open.

My cheeks flush. He’s going to think I’m a total ditz.

“Is that so?” I continue answering his question and trying to play it cool and pretend I don’t hear any music, chuckling as I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

“Well, you know… Spice Girls fans are a rare breed nowadays. I was curious,” he replies, and I blush almost immediately.

Kill me now.

I feel my heart picking up the pace, boiling blood rushing to my cheeks and turning them into a violent red.

“Guilty as charged,” I shrug, mentally trying to ‘unblush’ myself, as if that was possible. Still, I can’t deny what he just said. I was caught in the act, after all. “Don’t tell me you’re a fan too.”

“Not really,” he laughs. “Old pop music isn’t really my thing, Emily,” he says, his tone of voice so relaxed and confident that it almost seems like he’s saying something extremely cool. Even though he’s just talking like a regular human being, there’s something about his posture that gives him an air of a modern James Dean.

“What’s your thing, then?” I ask him, and I almost facepalm myself; I can’t believe I gave him such an easy opening!

“Spice girls fans, of course,” he teases me, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes wander down my figure, carefully appraising every single curve of my body. Instead of slapping him, though, I find myself blushing even more. Sure, I always turn a few heads around whenever I walk into a room, but it’s always nice to feel the lustful gaze of a handsome man like this.

“You okay, Emily?” Freeway asks. “You seem kind of flushed.” I’m dying. But I put on a brave face and let the laughter come back.

“I dunno, Freeway,” I say, and he raises his eyes at me when he hears me call him that. “Normal people don’t do this.”

“What do you say we go out one of these days?” he asks me then, and I honestly don’t know how my knees keep supporting my weight.

“That’s pretty straightforward of you,” I tell him, managing to put on some kind of a fight. Even though I’m pretty happy about him asking me out, I also know that a girl always has to put up some resistance. It’s never a good policy to bend the knee to the first man that demands it, right?

“Well, we don’t have much time,” he says with a smirk. “We’re on the side of a busy…freeway.”

“I mean, you sure you don’t even want to sext first?” I ask with a smirk.

The old Emily is coming back. And he wants to dance, so let's dance.

“Sext? You mean send each other … naughty pictures?” he asks me with intense looking eyes.

I nod my head.

Why do I feel so silly all of a sudden?

“I’d rather just see your body in person,” he merely shrugs as he says this and I draw my breath out in a gasp, his eyes never leaving mine. “So, can I have your number?” He continues, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. I’m about to give him my digits when he raises one open hand, stopping me right before I open my mouth. “No, let’s do it like this; I give you my number, and you can call me whenever you feel like it. What do you say?”

“What if I never feel like calling you?” I shoot right back at him, my fiery instinct kicking in.

“Your loss then,” he laughs, “but something tells me you’ll do it.” “You’re not a serial killer or something, are you?”

“Not during work hours,” he teases me, and I can’t help but laugh. God, I hope he’s really teasing me and that he isn’t a serial killer in his free time.

“Well…” I mutter as I take my cellphone out of my purse. “No harm in having your number, I guess.”

“No harm at all,” he whistles, snagging the phone out of my hand and unlocking it. He keys his number in and then hands me back the phone. Placing his hands in his pockets, he then turns around and starts walking back to his car.

“That’s it?” I ask him, and I feel like an idiot the moment the words leave my mouth. What the hell was I expecting? For him to push me back against the hood of my car and have his way with me right here, right now?

“That’s it,” he chuckles, sitting inside his Mercedes and putting on his black Ray Bans. “I’ll be waiting for your call, Emily.” With a casual salute, he then closes his car door and turns on the engine. I stand there, completely dumbfounded as he drives into the incoming traffic and disappears.

What the hell just happened?, I ask myself as I sit inside my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel. Did a guy on the freeway just ask me out?

Oh, yeah, sometimes life’s crazier than fiction.

EMILY

“You’re kidding me, right? Isn’t the Wine guy enough?”

“It’s not my fault,” I shrug, smiling sheepishly at Lana. I know she’s right; I should be satisfied with one hot guy, but what can I do? It’s not like I can turn down a hot guy just because! “And we’re calling him Wine Bar. Or WineBar.”

“Kirk, right?” Lana asks.

“Yup. And Marshall is Freeway,” I say. “And it’s not my fault they both like me.”

“Uh-uh, yeah… It’s not your fault at all,” Lana sighs, casually picking up a teddy from the rack in front of her. She dangles it in front of her face, then wrinkles her nose and puts it back. I follow after her down the aisle, barely looking at the never ending piles of bras and panties. Usually I’m always in the mood for some shopping, but it seems that today my mind has decided to focus on men, not clothes.

You’d think that window shopping and splurging on fancy (and expensive) lingerie would help me take my mind off guys, but you’d be wrong. Every single piece of clothing I look at has a weird effect on me… I just can’t help but imagine big hands (maybe WineBar’s or Freeway’s) ripping the fabric off me in a frenzy, their cocks hardening as — ahem, sorry. Once I get going, there’s no stopping me.

Trailing after Lana as she giggles like a schoolgirl, casually giving me a wicked look, I fold my arms over my chest and return her amused gaze.

“Don’t laugh, this is serious. I can’t date two guys at once… or can I?” “Girl, you can do whatever you want,” she laughs, turning on her heels to face me. Moving fast, she grabs my left hand and looks straight down at it. “I don’t see any ring on your finger, so I’d say you’re good to go. Besides, it isn’t like you gave Freeway your number yet, so you still have some time to think it over.”

“Well…” I start, looking down at the floor while I shift my weight from foot to foot.

“Oh my God! You called him?” she asks me, completely unable of hiding the excitement in her voice. Since she has been married for quite some time now, Lana has fallen into the habit of living the single life through me. Which, of course, involves having me giving her a complete rundown of all my escapades. It’s been like this ever since we met, and I doubt that’s going to change in the near future. Yeah, if you’re wondering, I already told her all about Kirk’s prowess in the bedroom.

“I sent him a text,” I smile, feeling warm blood rushing to my cheeks. “And then he called me.”

“And?”

“And we’re going out,” I admit, blushing some more. Usually I’m not this shy about the men I’m seeing, but two hot guys at once is… well, it’s something different, isn’t it?

“Way to go,” she whistles, looking at me with an approving nod. “You sure don’t waste any time, girl,” she continues, laughing as she picks another bra from the rack. This time, she doesn’t return it; instead, she holds on to it. “First that wine bar guy, and now a guy straight from the freeway… Seems like you can’t get out of the house without having a guy throw himself at your feet.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It sure seems exactly like that. Besides, what’s the problem? This Wine Bar guy wants to take things casually, right? So that means you can see other guys. No problem there. In fact, I’d say that it’s exactly the opposite; you’ve won the lottery of men, Em!”

“Yeah… I guess,” I nod, but then my mind starts working fast, analysing every single word that Kirk ever said to me. “It’s just that… there’s something about Kirk.”

“Something? Something besides his huge —”

“Oh, come on!” I hush her, slapping her arm as she snorts loudly, a teasing grin on her face. God, I almost regret telling her all about what Kirk and I did. If I knew she’d give me hell for it, I would've kept my mouth shut.

But, then again, maybe not; after being with Kirk, I had to tell someone! “Don’t tell me he’s some kind of weirdo. That’d be a shame, such a good

looking guy…” she muses wistfully, and I have to snap my fingers in front of her face to grab her attention.

“He’s not a weirdo,” I protest then, biting on my lower lip as I try to put my thoughts into words. “It’s just that… Kirk doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that’s willing to commit,” I say. Even though I agreed with him to take things casually, I can’t stop thinking about it.

“And why is that a problem? Last time I checked you weren’t looking for a commitment,” she says, slightly surprised. Then, her eyes widen and her jaw hangs open. God, I can almost see the gears turning inside her head as she decodes what I just told her. “Oh. My. God. Are you falling for him? Is Emily, the queen of all commitment-phobes, actually looking for a relationship?”

“No, no… It’s not like that,” I try to shoot back at her, but I know that I just dug myself into a hole. “I’m just keeping my options open, you know? Maybe I’d like a relationship sometime, but I’m not saying it’s with him.”

“Actually,” Lana chuckles, taking the clothes she picked out of her bag and handing them to the cashier, “that’s exactly what you’re saying.”

“You’re really enjoying torturing me, aren’t you?” I sigh as I follow her out of the store, merging with the crowd ambling up and down the shopping mall corridor.

“Just a lil’ bit,” she admits with a shrug. “I knew you’d want to settle down sooner or later, Em. It’s just fun watching you go through all these growing pains.” Then, turning to me, she places both her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look straight into her eyes. She has that motherly expression on her face, and I know that she’s ready to hand down some much appreciated Lana wisdom.

“Okay, listen,” she starts, “you might be thinking of commitment, but that’s not a reason to limit yourself. Just like you said, WineBar doesn’t seem to want to commit, and you have a date lined up with that Freeway guy… Just do what you always told me to do: play the field, Em. Just play the field.”

“That I can do,” I reply, a confident smile dawning on my lips. “I was born to play the field.”