Baby Girl


Dear Diary,


Do you want to know how my night with Jeremy went? Okay, I’ll tell you.


So, when he got home, he didn’t want to go out. I wasn’t deterred, I said


“Fine, let’s say in. I missed you, ya know.”


He seemed like he wasn’t feeling it and I was right. He said, “Eve I missed you too. But I literally just got off a plane and I’m very tired. Let’s have a drink some other night.”


Then I pouted and said, “I haven’t seen you in two weeks and you want to crash as soon as you get home. Aren’t we friends” he started to protest so I poured him a glass of wine, “one drink. Tell me about your trip and then you can go to sleep.”



We were talking, sitting on the stools next to the island in the kitchen, and we started moving closer. You know how that happens, when someone is telling an engrossing story and you subtly and subconsciously move closer toward them. We ended up sitting thigh to thigh and he noticed he barely touched his wine.


“It’s getting late” he said, and he had the audacity to pull away from me.


“No, let’s stay here,” I begged him. I pulled myself closer to him so we could sit the way we were moments before.


He looked at me and for a moment I had to look away.


Then he said, “Baby girl, you’re just too young. Okay you’re cute and you’re nice but...”


I kissed him and said, “Don’t call me baby girl.”


He actually pulled away again. “Eve, I’m serious. One of us needs to be responsible. We both know—”and I stopped him mid-sentence, with my tongue. And my hand.


He moaned a little and said, “You’re going to make me do something I’ll regret.”


I looked him dead in the eye and said, “Prove it.”