We’re supposed to be going out for one more drink, since it’s only 5 o’clock and technically we both just got done working. However, we’ve been sitting on a patio with cocktails since 3, and just drove back to my neighborhood. I told him I needed to run upstairs to grab something, but really, I wanted to take my panties off under my dress for our last drink out. He’s standing in the small parking lot behind my apartment, waiting for me, smirking.
“Well, since we’re already here?”
“You want to skip the last drink?” I ask, smiling back, waiting just a moment before I open the back gate.
We don’t, we can’t, kiss in public. Probably ever. I know that’s part of this. He follows me upstairs. This is still new, so I nervous chatter at him something about something being a mess in my apartment. I know he doesn’t care.
I grab the last 2 beers out of the fridge. I usually don’t drink at home, but since this has started, I’ve broken almost all of my rules.
Rule #1 was no more married men. Well, here we are.