A summer breeze wafts across my face as I stand outside my apartment, jiggling the key. I push into the lock and try to turn it, but it sticks.
I sigh, because the key not working is symbolic of my typical luck lately. Everything seems stuck.
For instance, my date tonight went, well, how all my dates have been in the past three months. Which is to say it lacked a certain excitement.
I'm tired of dating, but my therapist says I need to at least give these guys a chance. But I swear, it seems like every guy is either out for just sex--and they make that very clear. Or else, he's a lamo with the personality of my pet rock.
Tonight was our second date, and he took me out to a nice dinner at an Italian place downtown. He got in the cab, took me home, and it was all fine and dandy.
He was nice. But that spark was nowhere to be found. Zero butterflies.
Ted didn't even try to kiss me, which leaves me wondering if maybe it's me who's the problem, not him.
I take a frustrated breath, turning my key and twisting my doorknob, but the thing is jammed. It's not like i live in the worst part of town, but it's almost midnight, and I'd prefer not to play the odds that an attacker or someone would come by my place. Even if they are slim,
Hearing my gate clank, I whip my head around and see a hooded figure. I freeze. It's like I summoned a stranger just by thinking about the possibility.
"Having some trouble getting in?" he asks, he voice scratchy and sounding like cigarettes. He looks to be in his 40s, and his skin looks withered.
Adrenaline surges through me, and I feel the urge to run. But my key is trapped in the door.
"No, I'm fine," I say politely in a strong tone, not wanting to let on that I'm basically trapped outside. I can't make out most of his face, which is shaded by his hoodie.
"Let me see your purse," he sneers as he walks up the steps and gets into my personal space. "I bet I could figure out that lock."
My heart races. "No, I'm fine." I repeat with emphasis.
And I don't know what seeing my purse has to do with figuring out the lock.
"That's okay," he says, and he stops on the top stair right next to me. "I'll just have a look."
My heart thumps as my worst nightmare begins to come true.
He snatches the purse from around my forearm, but I don't budge. The handle rips and the contents pour out onto the concrete stairs. He goes right for the credit cards.
"Get away from me!" I yell, hoping someone around will hear. Anyone.
He lets out a literal growl as he puts his paws right on my credit cards. I try to kick him but he grabs my foot.
"Oh no you didn't, honeybuns," he says with a smirk.
"Fuck you," I scream, and try to kick him with my other leg, but it's hard with the way I'm propping myself up on the stairs.
He grabs hold of me, and I panic. He's got the upper hand.
I hear the gate open and see the figure of another man running toward us.
In a flash, I hear the sound of flesh on flesh and a grunt, and the two figures duke it out right in front of me.
I grimace a little as the new man hits the hooded man in the face with a one-two punch combination. I put my hand over my heart, because I've always been anti-violence.
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Ten Night Stand
RomanceWhen Krista has a one night stand with her sexy landlord, she's roped into a world of secrets and sexual pleasure. But will her past--and his--doom the relationship? After their steamy encounter, they strike up a bargain: no sex for ten dates while...