Chapter 2: Post-Encounter

I woke up with a slight headache. I checked my watch and it's almost noon. Last night seemed like a scary dream or a night mare—A beautiful night mare, a good scary dream. I just can't wait to see Jon this morning. I got up, brushed my teeth, had my hair up in a ponytail, applied lip gloss, mascara and a hint of baby pink blush to my cheeks. I put on a dark-brown Gucci leather shorts, a white tank, and sashayed out to find him.

Jon sat in the parlor alone, reading a newspaper.

"Hello", I said, I sat next to him on the couch, took the remote and switched on the television.

He just glanced over at me, and said with less interest, "morning or afternoon, I guess". Then his eyes returned to the newspaper.

"Everywhere is quiet. Where's everyone?" I asked.

He told me that Andrew went out and that Vanessa didn't come home last night.

I thought of the possibilities of Vanessa catching us red-handed in the garden, or, Andrew watching us from his room's window, since he went to bed early last night. I waved the thought away and concentrated on the matter at hand.

"Maybe Vanessa got some deep actions too", I said to start pressing on .

"Maybe, maybe not" he said.

I decided to try again, " how are you feeling?"

"Like shit" , he said, flipping a page and still hiding his face in the newspaper. "Drinking that much wasn't such a good idea" .

"Ohh, I see," I said. "We are blaming what happened on the alcohol, right?"

He shook his head, folded the news paper and turned to look at me. "I always knew you were something, Tessy Johnson".

I like his impression of me, but at the same time I don't want him to think that I am a slut, or that I often cheat on Max, so I told him that nothing like that had ever happened before. It is a fact, the technical truth.

"Alright, it won't happen again. Let's face reality", Jon said.

I felt hurt and it bruised my ego that he is treating me with no particular tenderness. We shared a night together, a night fueled with passion and desire for each other. A certain type of passion that I haven't experienced before and a passion that I have longed for years. I certainly have had my share of amazing sex at interesting spots—including the back seat of a car, at the library, the church parking lot, and in the garage while my father had friends over. But being made love to in a garden while it rained is rare, and I am annoyed Jon isn't seeing it as a big deal because it is.

"So you feel bad that it happened?" I asked.

"Of course I do," Jon replied.

I sighed. "So you didn't . . . didn't enjoy it?" I asked, trying a different angle.

He finally laughed, looked at me and said, "that's totally beside the point, Miss Johnson".

"Don't call me Miss Johnson," I said. "You weren't calling me Miss Johnson last night".

"Last night", he said, shaking his head, "was messed up, I think we should drop this. For the best."

"No," I said.

He looked at me. "No?"

"No, I can't drop it," I said. "It happened, I can't. We can't take it back."

"Come on! I know we can't take it back, but somehow we have to forget it," he said. "It was really a shitty thing to do. You're engaged. . . and Max is my boy. . . It's over."

"Sure," I said, eyeing him .

He looked away, adjusted his legs in a sort of protective way to keep some distance between us. "It was fucked up!"

I'm getting angry because, all he is worrying about is Max feelings, instead of mine. "Jon," I said.

"Huh?"

"I think we should talk about what happened, let's talk about why it happened." I'm just testing the waters to determine how much he likes me and whether I could have him again if I wanted him. Which I sort of did. Maybe once or twice more. I mean, once you cheat you've cheated, right? How many times doesn't really count.

"It happened because we drank too much," he replied.

"That's not why it happened. There was more to it than that. You weren't out there in the garden with Vanessa or. . . or . . . Andrew."

He gave me a warning look, but said nothing.

"What if I'm not supposed to be with Max?"

"If that's the case, then you better call off the wedding."

"You really want me to do that?" I asked.

"No, I'm not saying that. Marry Max." His voice was just so cold that it made me want to punch his face.

"What if I'm supposed to be with you?" I asked, staring intentionally into his eyes.

He looked away, "That's not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"Can't happen."

"Why?"

"Because . . ." He stood up, walked into the kitchen and returned with a cup of coffee. "it was just one of those things. A total mistake."

"You feel nothing for me at all?" I asked.

He took a sip of his coffee and replied, "We're friends, Tessy. I like you."

"So you normally do that with your friends?" I snapped at him .

He dropped his cup, walked towards the television and turned down the volume, cross his arms, and looked at me. "Tessy, I honestly . . . enjoyed last night. . . But it shouldn't have happened. And I regret it."

"You regret it?" I asked, looking offended.

"Yes." He said calmly.

"It didn't mean anything to you?"

"It did." He said, sat down, stretched and smiled slightly. "I enjoyed it. But it's done. Over."

"You're not going to go out with Sandra again, are you?" I asked.

" I dunno. Maybe. Why?"

"You are?" I asked

He sipped his coffee. "Why not?"

"Don't you think it's kinda weird now?" I asked.

He shrugged, showing me that he saw no problem with it.

"Okay. Look. One question. . . If I'm single, who would you choose? Sandra or me?" I asked . I am completely sure of his answer. Although I still want to hear him say it.

He laughed. "Oh Tessy, you're indeed trouble"

"Answer me."

"Okay. The truth?" He asked.

"The truth." I answered.

"I'll hook up with the both of you at once ." He said with a flirty grin.

I punched his arm. "Be serious," I said frowning with disgust.

He laughed. "You guys have never done that before?"

"No, we've never! Jeez . . . You're gross," I said, "I prefer a one on one. . . So, you have to pick. Sandra or me?"

"Tricky" , he said

"It's tricky because I'm engaged to Max, right? But you're more attracted to me?" I asked, looking for affirmation. It's not that I want to beat Sandra. It's just that she has her deft—the intelligent-lawyer thing—while being hot, beautiful and desired by men is my domain. And I need the lines to stay clear.

Looking at Jon, it's quite obvious he won't grant me that satisfaction.

"You're beautiful in different ways." He said as he continued reading the newspaper to show me the conversation is over. "There's coffee, you can help yourself."

For the rest of the weekend, I noticed how Jon did his best to avoid being alone with me. I even found myself obsessing over him.

We all returned to the city to our different lives and this made my preoccupation only to grow stronger.

I don't necessarily want our affair to continue, but I want him to want me. I want Jon to want me so badly.