The Reluctant Mate
6 Naïve

Amanda

Well, this was not at all how I had planned to spend my Saturday morning. I should have been in bed alone, nursing my latest hangover like normal, but instead I was with Porter, on the way to get coffee. Not from my favourite place, Coffee Buzz, oh no, definitely not, but from another, more neutral spot, because I was not about to show him where I liked to go.

He held the door for me as we entered and I inwardly scoffed. For one, I could handle a door, and for two, I wasn’t going to fall for some superficial attempt at courteous charm. I wasn’t sure why he was so desperate to stick around, but I needed to replace a way to deal with it. Porter was just a man, like all the other men I had dealt with in the past, and I knew how to get rid of them. I’d even managed to get rid of Steven in the end even though he stuck to me like a bad stain, so I was clearly an expert at ditching them.

It might be a teensy bit harder to get rid of this one, though, because I wasn’t quite as motivated as I should be, as demonstrated by the fact that he was still in my general vicinity. It didn’t help that I kept getting flashbacks of what he had done to me the night before, and my stupid irrational body kept acting up thanks to it. It also didn’t help that he was unreasonably hot.

And I clearly wasn’t the only one who could see that about him. I hadn’t missed a few appreciative glances at him from a couple other girls and one guy who we had passed on our way in. It annoyed me, not because I had some sort of claim on him or anything, but because he was obviously with someone who could, as far as they know, be his significant other, and people should respect that.

Personally, I never knowingly slept with people in relationships. It was a terrible thing to do, and also had the potential for drama I didn’t want to deal with. Was it so much to ask to just replace relief for my physical desires without additional headaches? Apparently it had been, at least this weekend.

I let him order first and when he was done, he looked at me. I didn’t know the place, so I just ordered the first thing that looked okay. I wasn’t that fussy about coffee, as long as it was caffeinated. And free drinks were free drinks, after all. It was usually alcohol, but the principle held true for coffee as well.

Since I hadn’t actually agreed to spend time with him after he bought me my drink, I considered just walking out the door, but he looked so hopeful that I couldn’t quite bring myself to make my exit with a quick adios. I was definitely being swayed by that handsome face, to my own annoyance. He was just a meaningless one night stand, why was I so weak to him?

So somehow I found myself sitting at a table with an okay-ish fancy coffee with Porter. He tried to make conversation, and I almost felt bad because I wasn’t really into it. I had to deal with this. “Listen, Porter. You seem like—”

“I’m definitely not a ‘nice guy’,” he interrupted before I could get it out, his face instantly hardening. I guess I deserved that for trying to use such a cliché line twice. He’d definitely knocked me off my game.

“You’ve been pretty nice to me.” My unhelpful memory showed me some explicit images of just how very nice he had been. “But what I’m trying to say is it’s not you. I don’t do relationships anymore, ever.” I said. Maybe if I kept repeating myself he would understand and go away before he got hurt or I got sucked in.

“Why not?”

A sick feeling flooded my stomach, and I responded before I could let myself remember things better left unexamined. “I’ve got my reasons, and they’re none of your business.”

He sighed, and my heart hurt again. Then he looked at me, determined. “I’ll take whatever I can get.”

How was anyone this stubborn? He should have run off with his tail between his legs to nurse his pride a dozen times over already. “I just told you—”

“Just spend time with me.”

Yeah, and probably catch feelings, which would trap me and make it harder to leave when things went south. I didn’t think so. “That won’t work. You’re already too invested.”

His voice lowered to a whisper. He looked into my eyes, gaze determined, and my heart skipped a beat. “Or just sex. No relationship, no expectations, nothing else. I won’t stay over, I won’t talk to you outside of it, I won’t bother you.”

That did sound tempting. He had already proven that he was very, very good at sex. But the problem remained that he was way too intense, and for some odd reason, already fixated on me. It made me uneasy. “You’ll probably get hurt,” I warned him, hoping he’d give up.

He shrugged. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

It wasn’t my job to protect his heart. “Okay,” I said, like some naïve fool even though I definitely knew better. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you when I need you.”

—————

After I shook Porter off, I spent the rest of my Saturday hanging with Lisa and Daria after she got back, and trying my best not to think about a certain man who was not supposed to be in my head, although it always seemed like he was trying to sneak in there and set up camp permanently. I had the most absurd urge to text him now that I had his number, but I resisted the urge. I wasn’t going to use it until I wanted something from him and I was going to hold out as long as I could.

I worked the next two days, and the boredom and stress of work was not enough to keep me from accidentally fantasizing about him. It was frustrating in more ways than one.

The next day off, I went and got tested, just to make sure that feelings weren’t the only gross thing I had been at risk of catching from him.

I woke up Friday morning from a dream about him. The worst part was it wasn’t even sexy, it was just us doing normal things together. Couple-like things. It made me nauseous.

I held out until the next weekend. The girls and I were going out Friday night like we usually did. I pulled out my phone and texted Porter.