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

might’ve made all the difference,” Kathryn says, laughing.
    “So you want me to take you to your friend’s? What if I just promise to not touch you?” I offer.
    “Right, almost believable … Anyway, I’m not worried about you, Dre. I’m worried about me jumping you as soon as we get to my apartment,” she clarifies. Son-of-a-bitch, I’m going to need more than a cold shower when I get home; I’m going to need an ice bath.
    “Plus, I’m going to end up over there tonight anyway. A girl doesn’t go on a date like the one we just had without dissecting every word that was said, every touch of the hand, and every kiss,” Kathryn explains. “Sydney and I have a lot to analyze.”
    “You really don’t have much of a filter, do you?” I ask, chuckling at her straightforwardness.
    “What’s the point? Playing games doesn’t get anyone anywhere,” she says.
    As I put the car into park, I turn to look at her. Kathryn unbuckles her seatbelt and turns toward me. I don’t have to slide toward her or pull her to me, because she leans over the counsel and kisses me. Kathryn starts slowly and softly, but begins to hungrily explore my mouth with her tongue. Her scent and taste are intoxicating; I adjust in my seat, relieving some of the pressure of the growing strain against the zipper of my pants. We stay entwined in each other’s arms, kissing, tasting, and savoring each other. It feels like high school, nah like middle school, making out like this, knowing it’s going no further, but wishing with every fiber in my being that it will.
    Finally, Kathryn releases herself from my embrace and leans back against the car door. Breathing heavily with a flush on her face, she says, “I know number six.”
    “What?” I ask, not following her.
    “I saved question number six. I know it now,” she clarifies.
    “Alright, hit me,” I say, hoping that it’s not something I’m going to have to lie about.
    “Are you going to break my heart?”

 
     
    “Shut up! You did not fucking ask him that? No way!” Sydney screams.
    I love that I can knock on her door at 8:00 p.m., unannounced, tell her that I’ll need a ride home, and that we need to talk, and all she does is step aside and says, “I’ll get the corkscrew.” Better than that even, Syd looks at the half-naked guy on her couch and says, “Dude, the bestie’s here; hit the road.”
    I tried to apologize and get a cab, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She scurried the Orlando Bloom-look-alike out the door and grabbed a bottle of wine and a bag of chips, while I started recapping every single detail of my night, ending with question number six.
    “Yes, I did,” I admit. “I’ve gotta know where I stand.”
    “Well, what the fuck did he say?” she asks, bouncing on the couch, spilling red wine in the process. “Fuck! Hold on.” Syd rubs the wine into her couch cushion with one of her throw pillows, and then flips the cushion over. “Perfect, good as new, now what’d he say?”
    “Ummmm,” I stall, not wanting to repeat it; hearing it the first time hurt enough already.
    “Fucking tell me,” she orders.
    “Alright. Fine. He said, ‘Fuck Kathryn, I wanna say no way, but I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you; I don’t want to at all.” I relay, remembering the agonized look on his face as he answered my sixth question. “Then he shook his head, kissed me again, and said, ‘I’m gonna try like Hell not to.”
    “Holy shit. That’s like … raw … honest … and hot as fuck,” she exclaims. “Why the fuck are you here and not on your knees in your apartment?”
    “Sydney!” I scold, hating when she talks like that. “I don’t know … I’m kind of scared.”
    “Scared of what? How fucking hot he is?” she asks.
    “Of getting hurt! Syd, he can crush me,” I whine. “It’s so different than it ever was with Theodore.”
    “Well no shit! Have you ever actually seen Theodore?” Sydney asks, rolling her eyes at the thought of