Inappropriate Thoughts (Victoria Wilde #1) (4 page)

"Why not?"

"I can’t. I just can’t touch it right now,
because..."

Natalie stared at the ceiling a moment, sat
up in bed, and pulled her legs to her chest. Sitting up next to
her, he looked sympathetically at her.

"You can tell me. Really, what is it?"

She paused and then looked at him. "I, uh,
when I was younger, there was this thing that happened, and now I
just can’t."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and
looked devastated. "Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Do you want
to talk about it?"

"No, I, uh..."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I just need time. Will you wait for me?"
Natalie asked as she looked away from him toward the door.

"As long as it takes."

She looked back at him with a smile. "You
mean it?"

"Yes, I’m crazy about you," Brian said.

"Will you stay and just hold me all
night?"

Nodding, he gave her a sympathetic
smile.

Jillian had a date that night with James. It
would be their third date together, and this guy seemed like
long-term boyfriend material. They met through an Internet dating
site and were a decent match. The plan was for James to pick her up
and take her to dinner; they left the remainder of the night open
to other possibilities. Jillian thought she’d invite him in
afterward, since she was attracted to him, but probably not go all
the way. It had been eight months since her last sexual encounter,
if you could even call it that, and she was really starting to long
for the touch of a man. She didn’t want to sleep with just anyone;
she was waiting for the right guy.

James arrived with a bag full of Chinese
food and carrying a soft briefcase. She was surprised with the
change of plans but was a fan of Chinese, so she didn’t object. She
brought out some plates, and they ate in the dining room. As she
spooned out the food, James pulled three books from his bag and set
them on the chair next to him. Jillian couldn’t see the titles of
the books, but she poured them each a glass of wine without asking
about them. She figured he'd talk about the books when he was
ready. They talked about the usual stuff, and she forgot all about
the books until she returned to the table after clearing the plates
and found he had the titles arranged neatly in front of him.

She could see the spines
of each book, and she read the titles of the first two in horror.
They were all relationship books. One was
How to Strengthen Your Relationship
,
another was
Relationship
Secrets
, and she didn’t bother reading the
third. James looked at her as he held his folded hands over the
books. "Where do you want to do this?"

"Do what?" she asked, confused.

"Work on our relationship," he said in a
tone that implied she should have known.

Jillian wondered exactly
what relationship was he referring to.
We’ve been on two dates and this thing tonight, whatever the
hell this is.

He watched her carefully. "Here or on the
sofa?"

"Sofa." She filled her wine glass to the top
and slowly walked into the great room and sat down. James sat next
to her—right next to her—and placed two books by his leg. He opened
the third to a page he had marked with a Post-it note.

She took a long sip of her wine. "What do
you think we need to work on?"

He looked like a crazed druggie as he stared
at her and blurted, "I think all relationships need work. Don’t you
agree?"

"Well, yes. I guess," she replied.

She sat speechless, drinking wine as he
proceeded to go through the pages marked with Post-its. After five
pages, she refilled her glass, and after five more, she brought the
bottle over. By the time they had finished the bottle, James had
reviewed what seemed like forty pages of lists, charts, and
relationship secrets. She desperately wanted to strangle him.
Alternatively, she hoped for a house fire, so she wouldn't have to
get her hands dirty. While he droned on, she resorted to thinking
about how she’d like to remodel the room. During his presentation,
when he looked to her for confirmation, she politely nodded and
said, "Uh, huh" at the appropriate intervals.

After two more grueling pages, she checked
the time, feeling like they had been going at it for at least an
hour, but they were only about thirty minutes in at that point.
When he picked up the second book, and she saw what looked to be
about a hundred Post-it- marked pages, she stood. "I’ll be right
back. I have to go to the bathroom."

She stayed in the bathroom, which was just
off the hallway between the great room and the kitchen, for about
five minutes. She came up with a plan and flushed three times. She
returned to him, clutching her stomach, but he was glued to book
number two and didn’t notice. As James began to review the
highlights of the first page, he glanced over at Jillian and
noticed that she appeared to be in pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I have a little stomachache."

He gave her a sympathetic smile. "Oh, I had
explosive diarrhea last week. It was horrible. You don’t have that
do you?"

She looked at him, a little horrified.
"Well, no, but I—"

"That’s good," James interrupted. "You
should take half an Imodium and a tablespoon of Pepto. I think I
have Imodium in the car if you—"

"No, thanks. I’ll be okay," she said in a
tired voice.

"Let’s finish going through the text later
then."

Jillian perked up. "I think that would be
best."

"Let’s do just one more thing tonight,
though," James said as he reached into his briefcase and pulled out
a stack of papers. Separating two stapled documents, he handed her
a copy and kept one for himself.

"What’s this?" she asked hesitantly.

"A relationship quiz that I put together
from the books and some Internet sites."

"Quiz?" she asked, flipping the pages as her
eyes widened.

"It’s mostly multiple choice, but there are
a few short-answer questions," James said, paging along with her.
He flipped to the back page, and she continued to review the
document while breaking into a sweat. James added, "The back page
is focused mostly on religion. We’ve never really discussed—"

"No, we haven’t," Jillian interrupted before
leaping up from the sofa. "I really need to go to the bathroom
again. Be right back."

Rushing to the hallway, she continued into
the kitchen and quietly opened the freezer. There, she pulled out a
bag of frozen vegetables and grabbed the milk carton, along with a
large plastic cup. Carrying her items, she slipped quietly into the
bathroom and closed the door. She placed the cup on the counter and
rushed to open the frozen vegetables. The bag ripped, and
vegetables shot all over the sink. She cursed, scooped up some
vegetables to fill the cup halfway, and then added milk. She opened
the bathroom door slightly, lifted the toilet seat, and poured
one-third of the contents from about two feet above the bowl. For
the next ten seconds, the frozen soupy mixture splashed loudly into
the toilet, and Jillian added a groan before repeating the process
twice more.

"Jillian?"

"Yes," she replied in a pained voice.

"Would you bring in a couple of pencils?" he
yelled out loudly.

She frowned. After scooping the rest of
vegetables into the cup, she added milk and opened the door a
little more, repeating the process a fourth time. This time, she
held the cup about four feet above the bowl and provided a louder
groan, which she directed out the door. Then she rushed to the
door, inching out into the hallway just enough so she could see if
her theatrics were getting a reaction.

When she left him, James had been slumped
back against the sofa, leafing through his relationship material.
Now, he was sitting straight up, looking horrified, staring
straight ahead with his eyes bugging out.

Satisfied, Jillian returned to the bathroom,
flushed twice, and ran the water while she collected the few
vegetables that remained scattered over the sink. She splashed some
water on her face, turned off the faucet, and returned to the great
room, holding her stomach. James wore an odd expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"You didn’t hear any of that, did you?"

His eyes darted back and forth as he said,
"No, I, uh, well—"

"Wow. That was... Sorry. I had to open the
door. I was dying," she said while waving her hand in front of her
face. "There’s no window in there."

Standing, he began placing his books into
his briefcase. "Maybe we should do this another time."

"I’m so sorry about this," Jillian said.
"Why don’t you leave the quiz with me, and I’ll e-mail it back to
you?"

James didn’t look at her as he said, "Uh,
okay."

He glanced at her and reluctantly handed her
the papers as he rushed to the front door.

Following him to the door, she watched with
a guilty grin as he hurried to his car, never looking back. Then
she closed the door, walked into the kitchen, grabbed the phone,
and sat at the island, reviewing the quiz and shaking her head. A
big smile appeared on her face as she dialed Victoria’s number.

Brian sat with Natalie on her bed; they were
making out once again. On this visit, there was no removal of
Natalie’s shirt and bra, or anything else intimate, but Brian still
enjoyed being with her and really wanted to give her some time.
There was a knock at the door. Natalie got out of bed, walked over,
and opened the door just enough to see who was there. From his
angle, he couldn’t tell who it was. She whispered something through
the tiny opening as he looked on curiously. She closed the door,
told him she’d be back in a few minutes, and said he should read
something while she was gone. Before he could say a word, she
slipped out the door.

After forty minutes, she still had not yet
returned. Brian kept himself occupied by reading a few magazines
and looking at her books. He checked the clock again, and when he
put his hands back to lean against the wall, he noticed a book open
but face down on the bed. Picking it up, he scanned the page. Once
he realized it was her diary, he quickly put it back down. He
placed it back where he found it and glanced over at it a few
times. He considered the phrase that had caught his eye; it was
something about being in love with him or thinking she was in love
with him. He stared at the book, desperate to know but hesitant to
invade her privacy. Remembering she told him to read something, he
also thought about her leaving him in that room for so long with
the diary right out in the open. He was convinced that she intended
for him to read it. Maybe it held the secret to why she could not
get close to him, and this was her way of telling him. After
glancing once more at the clock, he grabbed the diary. He read the
important entry, which was:

I think I’m falling in love with him, but I
just can’t give myself to him yet because of you know. There’s too
much pressure. I need some space now, but I hope he will wait for
me because I know I will get there soon.

He read the entry a couple of times with a
smile on his face, immediately assuming that he was the "him" being
referenced. Brian went to replace the book where he’d found it and
then stopped as he realized, from what he read, there was no real
evidence that he was actually the "him" in question. After turning
the book back toward his face, he got what he needed from the first
entry on the previous page:

Brian is coming over tonight... can’t wait
to see him.

He quickly flipped through the diary and saw
that only the first four pages had been written in so far. Quickly
skimming the entries, he found no mention of any previous
life-altering event. Maybe the new diary meant she was starting
fresh—fresh with him. He smiled, replaced the book exactly where he
had found it, and quickly picked up a magazine.

Minutes later, Natalie entered, looking a
little flustered. Brian smiled and barely looked at her as he
climbed off the bed and set the magazine down.

She said, "I'm so sorry, but I, uh, had
to—"

"I've got to go. Call me sometime, but no
pressure... Just, well. See ya," Brian said. Then, beaming, he
walked out the door. She stood there, confused but also
relieved.

Brian played on the intramural tennis league
on campus, and he’d asked Natalie a few times to watch him play a
match, but she never went to a single one. He hadn’t seen her in a
week—not since the diary incident. He didn’t tell her about this
particular match, because he was trying to give her space, and he
was playing horribly, probably because he was so preoccupied with
thoughts about her.

He lost the first set, and during the second
set, he noticed someone in the otherwise-empty stands. When he
looked over, he realized it was Natalie, watching him with a
bright, encouraging smile on her face. She waved, and his face lit
up. He was down three games to one and facing break point on his
serve. If he lost the game, he would be down a devastating four
games to one, with little chance to come back and win the
match.

From that moment on, Brian was in the
zone—blasting aces, hitting blistering passing shots, and making
few errors. He won that set six games to four, and his excellent
play continued into the third set, until he looked to the stands
and saw that she was gone. He scanned the surrounding area and
noticed a girl who looked just like Natalie walking quickly away
with some guy. He only saw the backs of their heads, but he was
sure it was Natalie, since he recognized her body immediately in
her signature tight stretch pants.