Wendy agrees to a couple of drinks with a certain stud-ly EMT named Tommy. Drinks, and talking somehow find their way back to his place. After a few too many drinks Wendy nearly drops her green earring on the floor. Sitting at his counter, in his kitchen, on a couple of barstools he leans in for a kiss. She doesn't resist him. He leads her out of the kitchen towards his bedroom. She nearly trips over a pair of child's sized pink Converse. She stops, and shoots him a questioning glance.
"I'm sorry, I am always telling her to pick up her stuff."
"She's not here, is she?"
"Wendy it's a pretty small apartment. There are only two bedrooms, and the walls are paper thin, I think that you would know if she was."
"So, no?"
They have managed to make it as far as the living room. He leads her to the couch. She takes a seat on the arm. He sits next to her.
"What is with your phobia of children?"
"It is not a phobia," she insists.
"Then what is it, exactly?"
She shrugs, "I guess they just make me uncomfortable."
"Do you dislike them?"
She shakes her head, "No. I just think that they are an acquired taste."
"One that you have never acquired?"
"Something like that."
"You never considered it?"
"The thought of having a child rarely crosses my mind," she reveals.
"You don't want them?"
"I am not against having them. Nor am I opposed to people who have their own."
"So what is the hang up?"
"There is no hang up."
"You don't want them?"
She exhales, frustrated by the entire situation, "I never said that."
"Do you, or not?"
"What I want doesn't matter."
"Of course it does," he argues.
"Not particularly."
"What would make you say that?" He arches an eyebrow.
"I can't have them."
"Oh. I'm sorry… I…" he begins to stammer. He's at a loss for words for the first time since she's met him.
In attempt to end the misery, and avoid talking about it any further she kisses him. He quickly pushes the topic of conversation to the back of his mind. Hormones take over, and whatever reason, or rational thought is left in his head subsides, at least temporarily. They never make it to his bedroom. They end up rolling off the couch, onto the floor, nearly breaking the coffee table in the process.
She tries to figure out how she's going to slip out unnoticed, as she lies on an area rug, next to him. She rolls onto her side, and is completely startled when she sees a pair of eyes staring back at her. His dark eyes watch her intently. Without a word he tucks a stray hair behind her ear.
"I hope that I didn't give you the wrong impression. I am usually a one, and done kind of girl."
"Is once really going to be enough?" He smirks.
"I am not looking for a relationship," she adds.
"Neither am I."
"So, then, we're clear?"
"Absolutely."
"And on the same page?"
"Except for the one and done part. I think we could both go another round."
"Not on this floor," she shakes her head.
"Where ever you want," he tells her.
"In the back of…"
He cuts her off, "Do you know how many microorganisms are in the back of a squad?"
"You said anywhere," she teases as moves towards him.
"Have you seen the view?"
"The view?" She questions.
"From the roof?"
They both managed to find their way off the floor. He leads her to the back of the apartment to a small laundry area. He opens the sliding glass door, and leads her up a set of stairs. She follows him onto the roof of his five story building. She fights her feline instinct to perch herself a top the edge of the building.
She tries to sneak back in the house later that night. It's after three when she quietly slips through the back door. She tiptoes towards the stairs. She's nearly to the staircase when a light flips on. She turns, and finds Freya standing at the top of the staircase. Freya's lips curl into a smile.
"Well look what the cat dragged in."
Wendy rolls her eyes, "Very funny."
She climbs the stairs, and meets Freya at the top. She ushers Freya into her room, closing the door behind them.
"How was it?"
"Fine," she tries to play coy.
"You met him at ten thirty. I think that it was more than fine."
"We just talked."
"You two left the bar at midnight."
"Is that a crime?"
"So you talked for three and a half hours?"
"It is a twelve minute walk," Wendy points out.
"So you talked for three hours, and eighteen minutes?" Freya responds suspiciously.
"No," Wendy smiles as she takes out her earrings, and places them back into her jewelry box.
"I should get back to be so that mom doesn't hear us."
"Night."
Freya leaves the room. Wendy takes a shower, and collapses into bed. The next thing she knows she's being awakened to the sound of Joanna's voice.
"Are you going to get out of bed at any point today?" She questions.
Wendy opens her eyes, and sits up in the bed. She finds Joanna sitting on the edge of the bed, right next to her.
"I just got to sleep."
"Just now? I don't think so. What time did you get in?"
"Three thirty," Wendy admits.
"Well you've had more than a cat nap."
"Ha, ha," Wendy responds, clearly not amused.
Joanna points to the alarm clock on the bedside stand, next to them. "Wendy it's twelve thirty."
Wendy glances at the clock. "Shit! I'm late."
"Late? For what?"
"I was supposed to meet Tommy for lunch?"
Joanna furrows her brow, "You're going to see him again?"
"What is with that look?"
"Are you dating him?"
"I didn't say that."
"It certainly sounds that way to me."
"I am just meeting him for lunch."
"Lunch? That is a date. You don't do dates. I don't really know what it is that you do with men, and I would prefer not to, but I do know that you rarely do it twice."
"I really like him, okay?"
"Just remember you're down to your last life."
"You act more like my mother than my sister."
"Someone has to protect you."
"From what?"
"Yourself."