Free So Many Reasons Why by Missy Johnson Page B

thing I had been glad to miss out on growing up. The sex talk. I don’t know
if mom had found it too awkward, or whether she thought I simply didn’t need
it, but not once had she spoken to me about sex. Gran had, but then again, gran
usually brought sex up in every conversation.
    All through my teen years, sex was something bad. Something
negative, something that could be used to hurt me. Even today, it was hard not
to see sex as a scary obstacle that would eventually be placed in the way of
moving forward in any relationship. Who thinks like that? A victim of sexual
assault. That’s who.
    The knock startled me, even though I was expecting it. He
was right on time. My nerves were on high alert. I begged my inner goddess to
stay in control. Things would go pear shaped fast if my insecurities got the
better of me.
    I opened the door. He stood, his lean body leaning against
the door frame. His height meant he almost touched the top of the frame. His
hair looked as though it had been styled with a run through with his fingers. I
fought back the urge to run my own fingers through it. Stray ringlets broke
through the conformity and fell around his ears.
    “Hey.”
    “Hey.” He looked at me appreciatively, his eyes lingering on
my cleavage before slowly rising up to my eyes. “You look beautiful.” He
murmured, his lips curving upwards.
    Oh god. I could feel my legs beginning to buckle. I wanted him.
I wanted him so bad. This friendship thing was so not going to work. I stood
aside, letting him into the apartment. I managed smile as he walked past me,
his scent hitting my senses like a sledgehammer.
    Aftershave and sweat. I breathed him in. Then realised how
creepy I was being. Closing the door, I took the opportunity to compose myself.
    Get a grip Emma!
    He was already walking to the couch when I turned around. I
breathed in sharply. His ass. His ass was beautiful. He wore loose fitting
cargos, and a button down shirt. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up
slightly, revealing the sculptured arms I’d admired the other day. Arms I'd
love take hold of me right now and throw me down on the couch-
    “Em?” I looked up to Simon staring at me. He held up two movies
with a look of mock annoyance on his face.  “Choose.” He ordered. I
pointed to the first. I had no idea what either of them were, but frankly I
didn't care. I wasn't planning on watching the movie. I was planning on
watching him. Carol glared at Simon from her spot on top of her scratching
post. Apparently she was planning on watching him too.
    “Sit down Em. You look really vague. I will grab us some
drinks.” I followed his orders and sank into the couch. Vague. Great. Now he
thinks I'm a space head. I grabbed the cover of the movie I'd chosen.
    Pulp Fiction? I
groaned inwardly. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
    Two hours and forty nine minutes later the movie finally
ended. That was almost three hours of my life I'd never get back.
    “So?” Simon turned to face me. His eyes showed his
excitement. “How did you like it? It's a classic.” He added, smiling.
    It crossed my mind to lie. I could tell him it was one of
the best movies I've seen.
      “I appreciate the
director’s vision.” I finally offered after a great deal of thought.
    Yes. That was the best I could do. There was nothing else
positive to say about the movie at all. Simon looked shocked for all of a
moment, then burst into laughter.
    “You hated it.” His eyes sparkled, amused. “You know this is
one of the best movies of all time.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “It was
nominated for seven Oscars.” He cocked his head to one side, not bothering to
hide his smirk.
    “Well, not my type of thing.” I shrugged my shoulders
defensively. So what if some shoot em up movie wasn’t my thing? Suddenly I had
a great idea.
    “Why are you smiling all of a sudden?” Simon eyed me
nervously. I widened my grin, the idea forming in my mind.
    “So, now I get to choose the movie, right?”