Mackenzie

We lie there for a few minutes before getting up, and getting dressed. When I slide into my shoes, he kisses my shoulder. There isn’t an awkward moment shared as he holds my hand, leading me to the front door.

When we exit his place, we walk in silence to his car, where he opens the passenger door for me. I get in and look at him as he leans down to rest his hand on my knee. Our eyes meet for the first time in open light from the streetlamp above and I love the smile on his face.

"Was I able to deliver your fantasy?" he asks, rubbing circles on my knee.

I let out a small laugh. "Yes, I think that box can be checked."

I take in a sharp breath, kicking myself for mentioning the list, but he skips right over it, thinking I'm talking about a metaphorical list and not one I have pinned to my wall at home.

"You won't go back to the club then?"

His question throws me for a loop. But it’s more than the question; it’s the look on his face when he glances at the mask on his dashboard. He looks torn, and for the third time tonight I wish I was a damn mind reader.

That was our agreement, but after what we just shared, I didn't think he’d hold me to it. I try to hide my sadness. He's sticking to what we agreed and I should be thankful.

I reluctantly nod. "I won't come back."

He leans in to kiss me one last time before closing the door and driving back to where my car is parked.

The upcoming goodbye has my stomach in knots all over again. How awkward is it going to be to tell him, “Thanks for fucking me and being my fantasy. I guess I’ll see you later.” I drop my head back against the headrest.

Like everything else he’s done tonight, he surprises me when he places his hand on mine and rubs his thumb slightly back and forth. He glances my direction and I see understanding written all over his face.

Once he’s parked, I lean in to kiss his cheek but he reaches up to hold my face to give me an actual kiss, the perfect kiss goodbye.

Flush, I turn to open the door, but he stops me. "Why don't you give me your number? Text me when you get home, so I know you made it okay."

My inner little girl jumps up and down in my seat but I try to calm her down and reach for the phone he's holding in his hand. After dialing my number, I hit send and watch as the phone next to me lights up.

"Done," I say, handing it back to him with a small victory smile on my face.

"Have a good night."

"You too, Connor."

In my car, I program his number under the name Last Chance, beaming from the best night of my life.

When I arrive, I text: I made it home.

He responds: Thank you for letting me know and for an amazing night.

I feel like I’m on cloud nine, leaving me nowhere near able to sleep, even though it’s well past midnight. I want to scream to the world that I just had the night of my life, but I can’t. Unfortunately, there’s no one I can call and tell, so I turn to something I haven’t done in years. I pull out my diary.

Flipping through my last few entries makes me laugh out loud. I hold it to my chest as my face beams with glee. If my fourteen-year-old self could see me now.

Almost every entry is about Connor, and when I pick up my pen, my face starts to ache from smiling as I write:

Dear Diary,

My life is complete. Whatever happens now can happen, and I'll be okay with it, because nothing, and I mean nothing, will be better than what I experienced tonight.

Mackenzie

* * *

The next morning my phone dings with an incoming call, and I want to scream out loud when the screen flashes Last Chance. I thought last night was the best night of my life but now that he's calling me today I'm filled with the hope of the unknown.

"Hey, Connor," I say nonchalantly.

"Morning. I hope you slept well."

I want to laugh but bite my lip before he hears it. If he only knew just how well I slept once I was able to. "I did, thanks to you." I couldn't help myself.

I love the sound of his laugh that tickles my ears in response.

"I talked to the girls in the apartment below me, and they want to meet you."

"Really?" I’m way too excited by this news. But it's not just about the apartment, it's the thought of being close to him.

I can sense the playfulness in his voice when he responds, "They're expecting your call. I'll text you the number."

"Okay." There's a pause. "Hey, Connor...?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Anytime. Keep me posted on how it goes.”

* * *

I arranged to meet the girls the next day at their apartment. Nervously, I knock on the door, praying they'll like me.

The door opens to three girls, all as excited to meet me as I am to meet them.

Chantel, Katy, and Robin introduce themselves one by one. The vibe I'm getting from them is promising, and my fear lessens as they invite me to sit down.

Each is beautiful in her own way and a guy could find his perfect match among them. Memories of Connor saying they weren't his type cross my mind. That isn’t possible. These girls are everyman’s type. Slender, pretty, and from the little conversation we've had, I'd say they’re all intelligent. Each one is either working toward a degree or has already landed a good job in their chosen field.

After chatting only a few minutes, they eye each other, then turn to me with big smiles.

"Well, we’re sold. When can you move in?" Chantel asks for the group.

"Are you serious?" I’m surprised it was this easy.

"We were pretty much already sold by all the amazing things Connor said. If he wasn't gay, I'd say he has the hots for you," Chantel teases.

I let out a sharp laugh. "You think he's gay?"

Katy hits Robin's arm. "Ha! You owe me twenty bucks, bitches."

"He's not?" Robin asks in disbelief.

"I promise you he's not. Why did you think he was?" I ask, still trying to calm my laughter.

"Because he's never hit on any of us, and we've never seen a girl at his place, so they think he's gay. I didn't believe it. I swear I saw him checking me out one day, but they said it was my imagination," Katy says.

"He told us you're like a sister to him. Are you sure he's not just keeping a secret from his family? You're best friends with his little sister, right?" Chantel asks, reaching for anything that will make her win their bet.

"Believe me, I know he's not gay."

"Ah! She's fucked him!" Katy yells, reaching over to high-five me.

I do, then cover my face to hide the blush I'm sure is creeping up.

"Aw, man." The other two throw up their hands in defeat.

"Ha, ha, I was right. Give me twenty bucks!" Katy celebrates as each one reaches in her purse to hand her the money.

"Please tell me you're still doing him? God, he's hot in the spiciest way," Chantel states, plopping back down on the couch, sulking.

"We'll see. It was only supposed to be the one time—well, two-time—thing, but he is moving me into his building. That's a good sign, right?" I’m excited to finally able to talk out loud about Connor and me.

"Girrrll, hell yeah, it is. If a guy didn’t want to do you again, he would not be trying to find you a place to live anywhere near him. And listen to me, he laid it on thick with reasons why you were perfect to live here."

My smile feels like it's so big, it will burst right off my face. Yet another entry for my journal tonight.

I spend the next few hours getting to know my new roommates and discussing the details of our rent and when I will move in. Guilt runs through me as I learn little things about each one of them but purposefully not tell them everything about me.

Chantel is from San Diego. She’s already graduated and found a job as an entry-level accountant at some big firm. Robin is the oldest and is a tech assistant for a promising startup company while Katy is still in school, studying to be a physical therapist.

“What about you?” Katy asks. “Connor said you’re taking some time off of school. What brings you to San Francisco?”

I’ve told this lie before but to people who wouldn’t know the difference. I want them to like me, to trust me, but I’m starting off our relationship with a lie. I contemplate spilling my guts but cut off the thought quickly, remembering why I want to keep it a secret and hoping our carefree meeting stays that way, at least for now.

I sigh, acting like life is too hard to handle. Ha! I wish I could go back to worrying about finals and the paper I have to write instead of the more serious things running through my head.

“I just needed a break, you know?” They nod in acknowledgment. “School was getting to be too much, and with only one year left, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be out in the real world. So I decided to take a year off, live somewhere fun before entering the workforce.”

My gut churns when I say that last part. I keep thinking things will get easier, but they don’t. Lying about my life isn’t helping either.