think I’m going to go for it with Sam, see if there’s something real there.”
“And you think you can trust him?” Luanne calls as she enters the bathroom. Her tone isn’t surprised exactly, it’s more like skeptical.
“What? You don’t think I’m capable of it?” I ask, turning in my position on the sofa to eye the bathroom door.
“I’m not saying any such thing. I just know you’ve got your guard up and you don’t wanna get your heart tore up again.” Luanne leans against the doorframe as she applies a fragrant body butter to her tanned legs. I can smell the lilac-scented lotion from across the room.
“I know I don’t know him all that well but, Lu, I really want to try and trust him. He’s sweet and funny and…he’s says he’s crazy about me,” I say, smiling at the memory of his words.
“Well he’d be crazy not to be. Just don’t go forgetting about all them resolutions you made.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say, unable to remember a single resolution when my mind is full of images of Sam and the feel of his lips on me.
“Good, because as much as I love you, the vodka’s getting expensive.”
Online shopping for women is like online gambling for men. Once you get hooked, you’re left broke and feeling slightly ashamed. Do I really need another pair of deep-purple suede platform pumps? I feel like I might. I delete the practical brown leather loafers and click the Checkout icon which quite unhelpfully asks me to review my order again. It’s like a digital AA sponsor for shopaholics. “Are you sure you really need that second pair? What’re you making up for? Let’s talk about transference…”
With my mother’s wedding now just ten days away, I really need to get serious about two things: the shoes I’ll be wearing with my Maid of Honor dress, and whether or not it’s too soon to ask Sam to come as my plus one. I reluctantly delete the platform pumps and complete my purchase of a nice strappy kitten-heel that’ll go great with the lavender dress my mother chose for me. If only getting a date for the nuptials were this easy. I’d love to put Sam James in my checkout cart.
Sam, Sam, Sam. Why are you so deliciously cute with your perfect ass and your sexy dimple and your…other impressive attributes? Concentrating on anything has been impossible since Luanne left for work two hours ago. Every attempt I’ve made to distract myself from thinking about our date tomorrow night has ended in failure. I can’t seem to find a single television show, blog, or book that can stop my mind from recalling vivid images of Sam wearing nothing but a smile.
I grab my cell phone and scroll through my contact list which is like a scrapbook for ex-boyfriends. I’m not planning to call any of them ever again, but not keeping them listed is a recipe for disaster. How can I avoid the inevitable late night booty-call if I don’t know who’s calling me? My finger slows after R and the contact list stops as Sam’s number comes into view. Although we haven’t been on the requisite third date to warrant his information being stored in my contact list, I figure there’s not much difference between drinks and dinner, and drinks and sex. I’ll choose Sam’s idea of a date over unlimited pasta and breadsticks any day.
I press Send before I can think better of it and wait nervously to hear his voice.
“You’ve reached Sam, leave a message.”
Damn. Why is it when I don’t want him to answer he does, and when I do want him to pick up, I get voicemail? Must have something to do with physics.
“Hey, Sam, it’s Ellie. Listen, I know we’ve got plans for tomorrow but I was wondering if maybe you wanted to grab a beer with me later tonight. Luanne’s at The Cavern and I promised to be her human shield when Jason’s around so…call me back, okay?”
I end the call, smiling to myself at the thought of our next rendezvous. Maybe I should refresh my makeup in case he calls me back. Better yet, maybe I should pack a little makeup bag for my purse in case of another unplanned sleepover. I head into the bathroom and grab my eyeliner from the sink, touching up the thin line that’s been smeared by the day’s intense heat. I know it’s cliché, but if I had to pick my best