chest there in that bed, in Makoa’s arms, but I knew one thing for certain.
I couldn’t walk away from him.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
And that was a very, very bad thing.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, tracing his tattoos as he traced the curves of my body. I was just about to ask him what one of them meant when he sighed, sweeping my hair back from my face.
“You’re so far from any woman I’ve ever known.”
I smiled, leaning into the touch. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I’m just… I’m blown away with how you handled tonight. The rain, the restaurant.”
“Those pierogies were like little potato puffs of heaven.”
He laughed. “They were, but… I expected this high-end restaurant. And for us to both be dry and warm.”
“Gotta roll with the punches,” I said on a shrug. Then, I tapped his shoulder. “And you need to do better Google searches.”
Makoa laughed. “That, I do.” He shook his head, still watching me in awe.
And then, he said the worst thing he could have possibly said.
“You’re such a good time.”
My heart stopped, stuck in the grimy mud of what that line insinuated as Makoa kissed my forehead and popped out of bed.
“I’m going to take a shower. Wanna join?”
I shook my head, but he was already in the bathroom, the water running. I cleared my throat and forced out a croaky, “No, I’m okay.”
A good time.
You’re such a good time.
His words played on repeat in my head, over and over, again and again. I played them in every pitch, heard them as I thought back over the night, over our last few dates.
I’d read it all wrong.
All this time, even when I’d warned myself not to, I’d leaned into the possibility that maybe… just maybe… I was wrong. Maybe Gemma and Zach were right. Maybe Makoa wanted more. Maybe he was different. Maybe he was about to prove that I wasn’t broken, damaged, washed up and only good for one thing.
And then as soon as he’d had me, he’d said the same words Nathan had all those years ago.
You’re so far from any woman I’ve ever known.
AKA, you’re not like the girls I take home to meet my family.
You’re such a good time.
AKA, I really like fucking you, we should do that again.
We should do just that again.
I was such a tight bundle of anxiety that I didn’t think to get dressed and get the hell out of Makoa’s place until he was out of the shower and climbing back into bed with me. He pulled me into his chest, curling around me like a cat, and all the while, I stared out the windows wondering how I could have ever been so stupid to believe he would be any different.
I was a fool, a hungry little fool who ate into every line he fed me.
And because I’d believed in him, in the possibility of him, I was already hurt.
This was why I held up my guard. This was why I never entertained the option of being more than just the good-time girl.
This was why I had a firm three-date rule.
I blew out a long breath, reminding myself that I was still in a somewhat safe territory. I may have taken a few pieces of shrapnel to the heart, but this technically was date three. I could still retreat behind enemy lines.
So, when Makoa’s breathing evened out, heavy and sound, I slipped out from under his arm, got dressed in my damp, cold dress, and put on my heels.
And I left.
Makoa
It took me a week to figure out that I’d been ghosted.
I woke up early Sunday morning after my date with Belle, and was not-so-pleasantly surprised to not find her next to me when I rolled over in the giant California King bed she’d picked out for me. After all, I’d fallen asleep hugging her like a body pillow, but before the sun was even all the way up past the horizon, she was gone.
I’d frowned, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and attempting a phone call. When she didn’t answer, I shot a text telling her what a great time I’d had and that I couldn’t wait to see her again.
No text came in return.
I was busy Sunday. I met up with Gerald for more drills at the high school and spent the evening on a video call with my family. That call lasted four hours — which it often did. We had two parents and four siblings, which meant catching