“I cared about her, and we had a lot of firsts together, but it wasn’t love, just teenage stuff. I didn’t even know who I was back then. It wouldn’t have lasted, even if I hadn’t moved.” He sensed my shock. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just digesting this.”
“I don’t get you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re fucking jealous about some teenage romance I had when all I want is you right now. You could have as much or as little of me as you want, yet you’re wasting time worrying about someone I fucked a decade ago, someone who I haven’t even thought about in years until you just brought her up. Meanwhile, you’re all I can think about—even though I haven’t seen your face in over thirteen years. It’s almost comical. Seriously, this is like a B-movie on Netflix. Two stars.”
He was right, and I felt like an idiot—even though I was still burning up with jealousy.
I laughed at myself a little, even though I wasn’t finding any of this funny. “You know what? Let this be a lesson to you. I am very emotionally immature.”
“Nice try. Stop trying to warn me against you. It only makes me want you more.”
“I am more fucked-up than you realize, Landon. It’s even worse in person.”
“Well, I wouldn’t really know because you’re hiding half of your crazy from me. I’ve been trying to get front row tickets to your shit show for weeks with no luck.”
One constant thing was that even when our conversations got heated, they generally ended in laughter.
After we got off the phone that night, I was still frazzled by his admission about Kelsie. I could feel myself breaking down. The need to give him more was enormous.
Still wearing my emerald green and gold belly dancer costume, I frantically began to remove it from my body piece by piece—the bejeweled bra, the beaded hip scarf, the skirt. I couldn’t get out of it fast enough.
He was going to get a taste of his own medicine.
GYPSY GIRL
When the phone rang three nights later, I braced for his reaction.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“I see you got my package?”
“I repeat. Are you fucking trying to kill me?”
Smiling from ear to ear, I knew that UPS had delivered it, since I’d been tracking it all day like a madwoman.
“Are you angry?”
“Are you kidding?” He moaned. “I am lying in my bed right now wearing nothing but you on top of me.”
“How does it feel?”
“It’s silky…and I have gold tassels wrapped around my cock.”
“That’s a great visual.”
“You smell like heaven. Pure heaven, Rana. I just want to drown in you.”
His words gave me chills.
“You like it?”
About thirty seconds passed before he responded.
He just breathed into the phone before he said, “You know, there are fleeting moments when I still wonder whether I’m being catfished. Like maybe, those pictures weren’t really you, or maybe there’s some sinister reason why you won’t let me see you. But let me just say, if for some reason that were true, in this moment, I wouldn’t want to know the truth. I want to believe that you’re as amazing inside and out as I believe you are. And I want to stay here smelling you until there’s nothing left.”
His words made my entire body buzz with an urgent need to be touched by him.
I cleared my throat. “It was an impulsive decision.”
“Well, it gives me hope that one impulsive decision will lead to the next. I’ll take whatever you want to give me. What made you decide on this particular outfit?”
“It was the night that you told me you dated Kelsie. After we got off the phone, I took my clothes off in a jealous rage and put them in a box to you. You’re wearing my jealousy.”
“You are totally batshit crazy, woman. But I love how you worked with my idea.”
“I am very resourceful in the course of my psychotic outbursts, yes.”
“Next time send me everything—the panties, too.”
“That actually crossed my mind, but I didn’t want you to think I was depraved.”
“I like depraved. What I don’t like is how I’m feeling right now—deprived.”
An idea popped into my head. “Hang on. Let me get into your sweatshirt.”
I ran to the closet and placed it over my head.
“Okay, I’m wearing you now, too.”
“What else are you wearing?”
“Nothing. Just you.”
“Fuck.”
“Your smell is fading, though.”
“Well, I’m not sending you anything else from me. You want to smell me again? It’s gonna have to be me, not my shirt.” I could hear him taking a deep breath in. “I’m so fucking horny right now.”
It felt like I could come from just hearing him talk dirty. He had that kind of deep voice that just did it for me.
“You’re making me horny, too.” I dared myself to ask, “What would you do to me if I were there?”
“A lot of things. But for some reason, smelling your scent makes me really want to eat your pussy. I’m craving that right now so badly, like my mouth is watering for it.” He lowered his voice. “Would you let me?”
Barely able to speak, I stuttered, “Yeah…I mean…yeah…I would be okay with that.”
“I’m totally fucking obsessed with you, Rana.”
I wanted to tell him that I was beyond the point of obsessed with him. Instead, I tried to snap myself out of the sexual spell his words were putting me under.
“You’re obsessed with the idea of me—the mystique. The reality is a mess.”
“What reality isn’t? A relationship is about appreciating the good, the bad, and the ugly. No one is perfect.”
A relationship.
That’s what this is, isn’t it?
Knowing that my resolve was weakening, I whispered, “I’m scared.”
“I can’t do this forever. I haven’t been with anyone since before the night you sent me the photo of your ass. But I’m a man, and I have needs. Either you let me see you, let me be with you, or I’m going to have no choice but to take this sexual energy out on someone else. Is that what you really want? You want me to give someone else what’s meant for you?”
My heart was thumping out of my chest. “No.”
“Then set a date. Set a fucking date. I want to see you. You have to make the call. I’ll never show up at your door without your permission. I promised you that. You’re the one who’s keeping us apart, so you need to decide how it happens.”
My voice was trembling. “I need more time.”
“Can you honestly say that more time will lead you to me? If so, then, I will wait. If not, just put me out of my fucking misery now. Tell me it’s never going to happen, so I can move on.”
Fear had taken away my ability to speak. This was turning into way more than I’d bargained for. I didn’t have the answer. My silence caused him to draw his own conclusion.
“I need to go, Rana. Call me when you have something to say to me. The ball is in your court.”
Then, he hung up.
Landon wasn’t playing around.
A few days passed, and he hadn’t called or texted. I had mixed feelings about that. A part of me was miserable because I missed him so much. The self-destructive side, on the other hand, rejoiced that there was no longer pressure to have to open up fully to him, to deal with all of the painful feelings that would inevitably come from meeting him face to face.
But despite that negative voice, my heart was in serious pain and begging me to let it out of its misery—to contact him.
At work one night, visions of Landon were particularly intrusive during my nightly routine. As I picked up the dollar bills that had been strewn at me, I wondered how much longer I could live like this.
The music stopped, and I ran off to grab some water. During my break, I finally broke down and sent Landon a text.
Rana: You weren’t kidding when you said the ball was in my court. I miss talking to you, and I’m really sorry if I upset you.