I’d been holding out for almost a month. Dancing up to the edge of intimacy and then away again. But the time had come to cash in. This was what I needed—security. Stability. Everything had a price.
I blew out hard, considering. “Okay.”
***
I waited until he was asleep that night to sneak out of the bedroom—our bedroom—and over to his computer, logging in to my Circle of Love account. I bypassed new messages from several men interested in meeting and clicked on Account Settings in the upper right-hand corner. Then I scrolled down to the bottom and hovered my cursor over the Suspend Account button before jumping over and clicking Delete Account.
Then I deleted Amelia’s account as well.
The silence of the house felt like a prayer as I absorbed the significance of this moment. No more forced smiles, flirty banter I never felt, or faked enthusiasm. As I sat in front of Cory’s computer, I promised myself I’d never sleep in a car again.
Then I went back to bed.
***
“Wear the black skirt and the red boots I bought you.”
Cory and I were meeting Nate for drinks.
I looked down at the outfit I’d chosen, a nice pair of dark jeans and a wrap top, and swallowed a sigh. The black skirt cut into my waist; the boots pinched my toes. But I smiled. Small concessions fed his belief that I was a pliable young mind in need of guidance. “Sure. Give me a second.”
“Be quick,” he said. “I don’t want to be late.”
The bar was one I’d been to several times, on dates with men from Circle of Love. That night, it was packed with the after-work crowd—men in dress shirts with ties loosened around their necks. Women in slightly rumpled business attire, tossing back shots at the bar.
We found Nate at a corner table beneath a large-screen television that was playing a silent 49ers game. He stood and shook my hand. “The infamous Meg.”
“I could say the same about you,” I said.
Nate’s eyes traveled up, down, then up again—before releasing my hand.
“Two beers,” Cory said to a server passing by our table.
“I’d prefer a glass of wine,” I said.
Cory draped his arm across the back of the booth. “You can’t drink wine in a sports bar. She’ll have a beer,” he repeated, dismissing the server.
Nate lifted his half-empty pint in a silent salute.
I crossed my legs, catching the way Nate eyed my skirt as it slid up to midthigh. Cheers erupted around us as the 49ers scored a touchdown.
“Tell me, Meg,” Nate said. “What do you do?”
“She’s a student,” Cory answered for me.
Nate raised his eyebrows and said, “Living the fantasy, huh?”
Cory laughed and clarified. “College student, you ass. She’s at the city college.”
“Studying digital design,” I offered.
“Cory says you’ve moved in.” His tone was light, but I felt the weight of his stare, silently questioning my motives.
I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I got kicked out of the dorms. We figured since I was spending most of my time there anyway, it made sense.”
“I didn’t realize the city college had dorms.”
While Cory’s attention shifted to the game on TV, I held Nate’s eyes. “Housing on the Westside is expensive. Where else are students supposed to live?”
He took a sip of beer and gestured toward Cory. “Regardless, congratulations on snagging this one,” he said. “He’s a hard one to pin down, though you’re exactly his type.”