Sugar Sweet Sin

From Bad to Worse

The date doesn't get better. But it doesn't get worse, either. It's just... fine. A pleasant meal with a pleasant man. But as we prattle on about general, innocuous things, Dante's words about what I need keep coming back to me. My conversations with Dante have never been just pleasant. They aren't always good—some of our recent interactions spring to mind—but they were never just conversations. They were always something more—a startling connection, a sharing of energy, a meeting of two sparks of life. I never really thought about them in that way when Dante and I were together, but it's hard not to recognize it now, when all of it is missing with Dean.

But I'm not with Dante, and I don't want to be with him—in any way—ever again. I was lonely when I met him—so unbearably lonely that I'd hidden it even from myself—and he'd been there. He'd started to fill in the empty spaces inside of me. I became dependent on him. If it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else... right?

But now I'm building a life of my own. A life on my terms. I stopped lying to myself about wanting a film career and instead followed my true passion—baking. I've made new friends—not just Jack, but Mama Pat and Karen and Jilly and others. Now is not the time to slide back into bad habits, and Dante definitely qualifies as a bad habit.

And Dean is attractive, even if I don't feel any particular spark. Who says this has to turn into a full relationship? Maybe I can just have a little fun in the moment.

In my head, I see myself rolling into bed with Dean. Imagine him undressing me. Kissing my bare skin. Sliding his hand up my bare leg. And I imagine how I might kiss his throat. How my fingers might unbutton his shirt to reveal the broad chest beneath. How my lips might close around his earlobe.

But when the man in my fantasy moans, it's not Dean that I hear. And the fingers I imagine sliding between my thighs aren't his either. They're far more familiar.

I shake my head, trying to jostle the images out of my mind. These kinds of thoughts about Dante are far, far worse than any of the others I've been having this evening.

But what did I expect? Dante is the only guy I've ever slept with. No wonder that's where my mind goes when I'm trying to fantasize.

That's all the more reason to create new fantasies, I tell myself. To do something wild, like have a one-night stand with Mama Pat's hot neighbor.

In many ways, it's an appealing idea. But at the same time, the very thought makes my stomach turn. I hardly know this guy. He might be attractive, but he's still practically a stranger. And he'll be only the second guy I've ever had sex with—shouldn't I wait until I have an emotional connection with someone before jumping into bed?

Don't make such a big deal out of it, a little voice argues. It's just sex. Live a little. But how can sex not be a big deal when my experience is so limited? Not to mention that anyone I sleep with now has a lot to live up to. My relationship with Dante was... intense. There's no other word for it.

Okay, so no sex then. But maybe I don't have to have sex with Dean to get out of this funk. Maybe we can just fool around a little. I've fooled around with several guys over the past few years—that's definitely something I can handle.

So when Dean suggests we continue our date after dinner, I find myself agreeing.

"Would you like to see a movie?" he asks.

"Sure." This is actually the perfect solution—it means we won't have to talk much. "Did you have anything in mind?"

"I've been hearing great things about Cataclysm: Earth," he says. "Have you seen it yet?"