Lord, Jesus. Weston.
I am sitting in my car outside my house, totally shaken by this man. He is sexy. He is charming. He gives me chills.
A few months ago Juliet and I went to St. Simon’s Island together for a girls weekend. We stayed with family of mine and partied our asses off. Juliet us a little younger than me and acts her age… she’s beautiful and outgoing and loves to be the center of attention. We went out one night and she was doing what she does: Dancing on the bar, getting shots from anyone and everyone, and begging me to go back to some biker clubhouse with her and some of the bouncers. I was doing what I do: playing pool.
My dad taught me how to play as soon as I was tall enough to see over the table and I’ve never looked back. I’ve played in leagues, hosted less than legal cash tournaments in bars and underground game rooms, even been in Vegas tournaments. Mostly, though, I’ve learned that if a bar has a pool table, I can impress men without making a scene of myself. I can usually beat them and men love a woman who can beat them at their own game.
Enter Weston, stage left.
He was there that night with a bachelor party and watching me play pool. He, like many others, put quarters on the table, sure he could beat me. He confidently brushed past the other men and introduced himself, lifted my hand in the air and had me twirl for him, checking me out. We flirted for a few minutes and I found out he actually lives 15 minutes away from me, despite the fact that we met in a bar 6 hours from home. Before his game came up on the table, his friends were ready to move to a different bar and I hastily gave him my number… maybe we could play a game back home! Of course, I never expected to hear from him again.
Over the course of the following months, I got texts from him here and there… he wanted to meet up but there was always one conflict after another. Then, Halloween weekend, he walked into the bar where I hang out.
He was sexier than I remembered. He’d grown his beard out since the summer and it looked great on him. My roommate was in rare form that night and decided at closing time to invite half the bar back to our place. Typically I’d shut that idea down quick, but… maybe Weston wanted to come too?
Back at the house we drank around the firepit, smoked a little weed… Weston asked me for a tour of the house. When we got to my room he kissed me and it was fireworks. He guided me back into the bathroom when we heard people coming down the hall, but I giggled and brushed him off… Though I’d talked to him for months, I really knew nothing about him. I wanted him, but that just wasn’t the night. We made out for half an hour when I walked him to car. As he drove off I knew I’d never see him again. That’s how it goes… if I am attracted to a guy, but don’t see a real future, I sleep with him and then never get rid of him. If I really like a guy, I try to take it slow and then he dips because he thinks I’m not interested. Fml.
But I was wrong. He called me last night and wanted to get together, but it was too late for a school night. So today he called me at 5:00, right as I was leaving work. He came to see me, meeting at a bar where we could play that game of pool we never got to play back in the summer. We flirted, we kissed, we danced… we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. Again, I told him I wanted to take things slow, but its clear we are intrigued by one another.
He walked me to my car and leaned me up against it, kissed me, my neck, put his hands on my hips and squeezed… taking things slow has never been so hard.
He asked if he could see me this weekend… I’ve been single for so long, I’m just waiting to find the flaw. It’s there, I know, but how bad is it? How bad could it be?
I can’t wait to find out.