We met at work. How cliche, right? But he was charming in a way I wasn’t used to and it drew me in like an invitation to an unlit blunt. The first time I saw him was in our breakroom. He sat at a high table next to the fridge, which conveniently, was exactly where I was heading. As I leaned down to put my food in, I heard him say “Hey!” “Uhm, hey..” I stammered as I stood up. He was handsome, so I wasn’t quite sure why he was speaking to me. “He probably thinks I’m someone else,” I thought. But after navigating about two minutes of “on the job” small talk, I realized I was wrong. “What’re you doing tonight?” “No plans,” I responded in the most casual tone I could manage. A smirk slid across his face as he followed up with, “Oh, well, I was thinking about going to Off The Hookah tonight. I was wondering if you’d be interested in going?” My nerves had kicked in and the only response I could think of was, “...What time do you get off?” He looked confused by the question, “At 3:30?” “Well that doesn’t work, I don’t get off until 7. It was nice to meet you!” *exit stage left* I didn’t turn back around to see his response, but I know his face must’ve looked as stupid as my answer. *que internal shaming for the bitch-like behavior*
After that first interaction, I assumed defeat. Which was, apparently, much too soon. I had no idea where his desk was, but that didn’t stop him from spotting me. Standing up so quickly it made me jump. “Hey!” he announced in a way that implied we knew each other. “Hello,” I responded, nerves kicking right back in. “I don’t know what happened last week, but here’s my number. Text me!” He stated nervously, handing me a post it. “I don’t text people, but you can take my number,” I responded, handing it back to him, with my number now on the back. He looked shocked as I walked away. Waiting less than 5 minutes before texting me an invitation to have dinner at his place. I quickly agreed, not wanting to fuck up a second opportunity at hanging out. I wasn’t looking for love, or a boyfriend, but a consistent fuck buddy that I could smoke with would be dope. He had bought my favorite beer and made all the required, food pyramid things, that made up a “proper meal”. “Do you want to smoke before we eat?” he asked, side eyeing me. “Yessss,” the fuck kind of question is that? “Do you smoke blunts?” He asked, more side eyes. “Not normally, but I’ll smoke any way,” I said nonchalantly, how different could it be from a joint?
(Art by: @pulpbrother)
Turns out, quite a bit different. “Can you teach me how to roll?!” I was so excited I couldn’t even contain it. “Fuck yeah!” excitement also resonating in his voice. It was cute. Luckily for him, I was a natural, killin’ it my first attempt, and every time since. But that was the future. At this point, we had sunken into a sleepy slump on his couch. Too full and high to move. He lightly started caressing my ears and immediately, I felt my panties get wet. I wasn’t ready. He moved in, kissing my neck, his hand shoved in my hair. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me up and let me to his guest room, where he slowly began to undress me. I couldn’t wait to see him naked, to suck his dick, to feel it slide in me. I needed to take a breathe and check myself. “Don’t be too excited, bitch,” kept repeating in my head. As soon as his dick was in my mouth though, it became clear who the eager one was. He stared down at me, lust in his eyes. Pulling me up one last time, only to push me on the bed and pull off my now soaked underwear. As he slid it in, I couldn’t help but be appreciative we had gotten another chance to “connect”. For the exception of when he made me get on tops, which made me momentarily reconsider. We had finished about 2.5 minutes ago, so it was my cue to leave. Jumping up unexpectedly to begin sliding my clothes on. This solicited a lot of confusion from him apparently. “Text me when you get home?” He asked, lowkey upset. I nodded, but obviously had no intention of doing so. Now that we had fucked, I was good. No need to keep speaking. Especially to someone so handsome and charming.
The following day he called me at 3:30 pm, exactly. “What’re you doing??” He asked. “Nothing..” I replied confused. “Who calls in an age where texting exists?” I thought. Little did I know, I’d come to expect these long calls and FaceTime dates. It only took a month and we had formed a habit. Within three, we were making time to see each other daily. And by daily, I mean, I basically had a key to his place. We were as opposite as could be, but it didn’t matter. We just, clicked. I didn’t want to admit it, but I wanted him to be my boyfriend. A conversation I never truly felt comfortable verbalizing. As I sat and plotted on how to approach it, my legs kicked up on his lap. He sat talking about expenses and cost of living. “Mhm, you’re so right..” I mumbled in response, distracted. “I mean, we spend all this time together. Plus, you stay here a lot. Might as well just be roommate, or whatever.. Right?” He presented, trying to use his most casual tone. “What? Really?!” I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t even have a relationship talk and here he was, asking me to move in. Something, by the way, I had never done before. This seemed as good a time as any to make my move. “So, if we move in together, what does that mean for us? Are we going to be together?” I replied. Thinking the answer would be the obvious, “Duh!” “Yeah, I mean, that’s what we’re working on or whatever, right?” He asked. The words were kinda right, the tone definitely wasn’t. But stupid little me, thought nothing of it. Totally unaware, that this would be the start to my unravel.