Free Can't Go Home (Oasis Waterfall) by Angelisa Denise Stone Page A

whom?” she probes.
    “Really? You’re gonna waste question number three on her name?” I ask.
    Waverly Harrington was my first love, but lately I’ve come to realize that maybe it wasn’t love at all—more like convenience. I thought that since everyone in the world wanted her that she must be worth all the time, effort, and love I could muster up. I was wrong. So wrong. Unfortunately, it took three years to figure it out.
    When I finally ended it, Waverly looked at me said, “You have no idea how sorry you’re going to be.” Waverly turned on her heels and walked out of my life. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. Thank God.
    “No! You’re right. Hold on … Let me think. Okay, number three, what was the best day of your life?”
    “Now that’s a good question. Now you’re thinking,” I compliment. This game will go much better with questions of opinion rather than questions of factual material. “Well … truthfully … I haven’t had it yet.”
    I eye her carefully to see if my answer is going to fly. It does. I’m impressed with her willingness and restraint to not pry into my personal life. Most girls jump at the opportunity to delve into a man’s privacy. Kathryn respects my boundaries. I like that. No, I love that.
    “I hope I haven’t had mine either,” she admits, nodding in agreement. “If so, the rest of my life is really gonna suck.”
    We both laugh, and she bumps into me, like we’re old middle school friends. If Kathryn and I had been friends since high school, then I could pretty much guarantee that my life would have turned out differently.
    “Number four. Did you grow up in Charleston?” she asks.
    “Nope,” I say, hoping to avoid any further questions of where I’m from.
    “I knew it! You’re some paranormal angel or alien put here to help people in Charleston with their groceries and broken door hinges,” she says, excitedly.
    “Holy crap! It was a secret. Please don’t tell anyone, okay, Pebbles?” I laugh, shaking my head at how goofy and carefree she is. Kathryn Howell doesn’t try to be the most beautiful, perfect woman I’ve ever known; she just is.
    “Number five. Where do you see yourself in ten years?” she asks.
    “Hmmmm … another good question … well … I really don’t know. I want to be alive. Maybe married,” I speculate. “But above all that stuff, I just want to be happy.” I cannot believe I just said that. How could I just admit such personal thoughts and feelings to her?
    “Me too, Dre, me too,” Kathryn agrees. “Number six. Hmmmm … I’m gonna need some time to think about the last question. Let me think for awhile.”
    Kathryn and I drive back to her apartment. The car ride is quiet. She stares out the window for a long time. Breaking the silence, she says, “Can you please drop me off at my friend’s house?”
    “What? Why?” I ask.
    “Well, remember the rules … numbers two and five from that first dinner we had?” she asks. I laugh, remembering them vividly. Kathryn put a strict rule out in the open that she was not sleeping with me.
    Continuing, she says, “Well, I don’t trust myself—and I don’t trust you. Something tells me that if you take me to my apartment that those rules will be null and void.”
    “Pebbles, are you thinking about sleeping with me?” I ask, feeling every inch of my body rise up and pay attention.
    “Dre, I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I came out of work, and you were lounging on the hood of my car in those tattered jeans and t-shirt, Kathryn admits, bluntly.
    “Let’s just get that straight right now,” she states. “But just because I’m thinking about it … a lot … doesn’t mean that it’s happening … yet.”
    “Yet? You said, ‘yet.’ Damn, I knew I should’ve worn those jeans tonight,” I joke. I would never tell her this, but I actually have two pairs of jeans. I thought the ones I had on were the nicer ones.
    “Probably should’ve worn them,