Should I Let Myself Be Excited About the Possibilities?

Before bringing me home Clay insisted on stopping at a small cafe for a late breakfast, even though I was still feeling full from eating too much the night before.. While I found a table he ordered coffee, fruit and bagels at the counter. Joining me with our food he sat in the chair next to me, moving it as close as possible to me, our knees touching underneath the surface.

As I stabbed a strawberry with my fork he spread cream cheese on one of the bagels, placing it on a plate in front of me. I was about to protest, preferring to limit myself to just the fruit, but I missed my opportunity as he began to speak.

He told me about a week long festival that was beginning that evening on the beach. Each year he was the primary sponsor and he had spent months coordinating efforts to bring his vision to life.

The kickoff event featured a well known local band along with a variety of regional restaurants setting up food tents. Each day the proceeds would benefit a non profit that was focused on improving the environment in the area. The first night was to support wildlife, specifically Loggerhead sea turtles who came ashore to lay eggs during the summer months.

He spoke with such enthusiasm, it was obvious he looked forward to this event each year. Earnestly he asked, “You’ll come, won’t you?” His pleading expression revealed how important it was that I be there.

When I hesitated before responding, he reached for my hand then kissed the palm. Meeting my gaze, he looked at me with naked hope in his eyes as he added, “I really want to share this with you.”

Already feeling exhausted by two late nights, I had been looking forward to going to bed early, but how could I refuse to go when this meant so much to him? Suggesting a compromise I replied, “It sounds like a lot of fun, but could I go tomorrow night? I’m so tired I don’t think I’d be good company tonight.”

His face fell, clearly disappointed, before he recovered his composure. Pausing thoughtfully, he proposed, “What if we nap this afternoon before going? Opening night is one of the best nights of the festival. You won’t want to miss it!”

Interpreting my silence as agreement he grinned widely and began making plans. He would take me home to pack, and suggested I bring clothes for several days, plus my laptop so I could work in the morning without having to rush home.

Mentally I tried to figure out what I should do. He just assumed I had agreed, but I needed to log in to check work emails. I should also try to work on a project nearing completion, but I could probably manage to make time for a nap. Remembering the teasing in bed less than an hour before, I felt desire tingle through me. As I recalled his touch, the feel of his breath on my skin, lust grew within me, casting a shadow on my responsibilities.

Gradually I convinced myself that work could wait, that discovering what might develop with Clay was more important than completing a project that could wait a couple of days. Imagining the possibilities I felt a strong sense of anticipation, an expectation of exciting things to come.

This post is in response to the daily writing prompt Expectation and is part of something longer I am working on.

This post is a part of the story about the ex and comes after How Could I Say No When He Desperately Wanted Me to Stay?. Note there is a gap between this post and the one that comes before it.

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