All of tonight is spent thinking about the what-if’s in my life. I normally don’t think in such a rhetorical fashion, but being on my own for the first time in my life, I’ve sort of had to face some uncertainty. What if this job doesn’t work out? What if I’m not cut out for it, or if I don’t fit in?

What if I just reached out and grabbed Soren’s cock? Okay, maybe that’s going a little too far, but it’s on my mind. It’s also late at night and I have no one to talk to and nothing I can really do. The fact is, I’m lonely and the only person I really know is just a few blocks away.

He’s wild. He’s living through some extremes, that’s for sure. From the forest to the big city of Buffalo? Oh god, he’s probably dangerous. He probably has ties to some weird shit, or he’s hiding a lot. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me curious.

And yet, somehow, I can block it out. When I talk to him, I think about his big hands around my waist, or running up my thigh, right up to my core. He gives me these glimpses that should make me frightened, but instead make me shiver with excitement.

When I step out of my place, I’m not all that surprised by myself. I’ve always been a little impulsive and I guess that has gotten me into some trouble, but I’m here and I want to have some fun. I walk to his house, holding my phone’s flashlight out in front of me.

“This is so stupid,” I tell myself. “What are you doing, Emma? You’re a good girl. You’re the sweet, little Gallaway girl, at the end of the cul-de-sac. Remember?”

But that’s not me anymore. I have to understand that. My interests are changing. I want to make something of myself, but I also want to fall into temptation. That’s part of being a woman, right? Sometimes you just have to experience what you want and assess the situation later.

I knock three times and I hear some shifting inside. “Gabe? I thought I told you to leave,” I hear him yell, angrily.

Shit, maybe this was a bad idea. He’s clearly in a weird mood. “Um, no,” I squeak, feeling two feet tall. “It’s Emma.”

“Oh, uh,” he stumbles around and I hear a belt buckle jingle across the floor. “One second. Shit.”

He finally opens the door and peeks out. “What’re you doing here? It’s eleven at night,” he says.

I shrug and show myself in. “How old are you? Eighty?” I laugh. “Are you asleep or something?”

“Hell no,” he says. “I was just readin’.”

“You read?” I raise my eyebrow.

“I read some true crime stuff,” he says, as if it’s a secret. “I don’t really have a TV here, so I make do with what I have.”

“You want to do something?” I ask him, looking around his place. It’s fairly clean and there’s pictures of his family nailed to the walls. It has a real comfortable feeling to it.

“Like what?” he eyes me carefully.

“I don’t know,” I shrug. “I’m bored. Let’s play a drinking game.”

“Who are you?” he asks me. “Did I say you could come over?”

“Do you really want me to leave?” I ask, looking down at his crotch. I look away knowing he saw me, and my heart starts to flutter at how wrong this all feels.

“You can stay,” he says, grabbing the bottle of whiskey. “But I don’t play any games.”

“The game is truth or dare,” I ignore him. “It’s easy. Do you know how to play?”

“I know how to play, but I told you already. I don’t play games,” he says.

“Okay you go first. Ask me truth or dare.” I smile.

“I told you I’m not—”

“Dare,” I interrupt him. “I choose dare.”

“Fuck, you don’t let up, do you?” he laughs. “Alright. I dare you to take a shot.”

“Okay. A little boring, but your wish is my command,” I laugh. He pours a shot and slides it over. I take it down easy.

“Okay, it’s your turn,” I grimace as I feel the alcohol burn down my throat. “What is this shit, anyway?”

“It’s the cheap stuff.” He smiles. “Only the best.”

“There you go. You smiled. That’s like the first time I’ve seen you do it, I think,” I tease him.

He groans and ignores me, taking off his jacket. I immediately notice his arms practically ripping at his shirt’s seams. “Dare,” he says, looking directly into my eyes.

For a second, I get jittery. “Dare?” I laugh. “You sure about that? I can tell you to do anything.”

“How much damage can a girl like you really do?” he says with a sly smile. He takes a swig of whiskey, just for the hell of it and sighs with satisfaction.

“Watch me, bad boy,” I say, taking the bottle of whiskey from his hand. “I dare you to drink the rest of this bottle.”

“Shit,” he groans. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, my friend. You’re drinking this entire thing,” I hold up for him to grab, which he does with hesitance.

“If I puke tonight, you promise to hold my hair back?” he laughs.

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry,” I say.

“Oh god,” he tips the bottle back and pours the rest of the contents down his throat. He makes a proud face when he finishes it and says, “Piece of cake. Truth or dare, baby?”

“Baby?” I laugh. “Um, I guess dare.”

My heart starts to beat, heavy and fast. I get goose bumps when he opens his mouth. He smiles, catching a glimpse of the fear that resides within my body. “I dare you to take off that jacket,” he says, staring at the zipper.

I look down at my blue jean jacket and smirk a little. “You dirty man,” I whisper. I unzip my jacket and throw it over a nearby chair.

There’s a brief pause and he’s staring at the spaghetti straps around my shoulders. There’s a second where I think he’s going to reach out and touch me, but he doesn’t. He snaps out of it and says, “Truth.”

“What happened in Buffalo?” I ask him. “Come on. You can tell me.”

“You want to write about it or something? Why are you so interested in what obviously causes me some amount of distress?” he asks, running his hands through his hair.

“Because…” I smile. “I want to know.”

“It’s not something I want to talk about,” he says, walking to the hallway. “I think you should leave.”

“Soren, come on. It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to—”

“Leave,” he says.

But I don’t leave. I walk up behind him and place my hand over his shoulder. His head droops down and takes a few huge breaths. “My best friend died,” he says. “We owned a business together. Been friends for at least twelve years. That’s all I’ll say about it.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. He turns around and says, “It’s cool. I should have chosen dare. I take my choice back. Dare.”

Feeling the top of his shoulder like that, I felt close to him, like we’ve known each other for a long time. It’s probably the whiskey talking, but I actually liked the feeling. I close my eyes, only to open them with a new look of confidence. “I dare you to do what you’ve been dreaming of,” I say.

He steps forward, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t smell like fuel or engine oil anymore. Now, I can smell his cologne, the scent that he so obviously carefully chose. For me? Probably not, but I’m here now. I’m standing right in front of him. We’re so close to each other that we’re practically touching.

He slides his fingers under my shirt strap. He lowers it down my arm, slowly. All we’re doing is breathing and staring at each other. There are no words that need to be said. He removes the second strap and my shirt hangs, only by my breasts.

I reach out and touch his chest and look up at him. He touches my breast and it’s obvious where this is headed. Our lips crash together like magnets. His tongue pressed against mine takes me to another world. This man, this rock of a man, has his hands around my waist and I’m just trembling.

He pulls away and I smile. When I look up at him, he lets go and turns away. “We should call it a night,” he says.

“W-what?” I get confused and angry. “Why? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing that you did,” he says. “I just… I can’t. You should go.”

“Soren, I—”

“Just leave me alone,” he says. “I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow. I’ll see you around, darling.”

Darling. He walks into his room and closes the door behind him, leaving me in the complete darkness of his kitchen. I don’t know whether to bang on his door or call out to him. In the end, I just leave him be and head home. It was a bad idea to become friendly with a guy like him, obviously. And once he entered my fantasies, things got even more weird.

If he wants to be left alone, I can handle that. I don’t need a guy like him cluttering my life.