Page 21 of Filthy Uncle To Go

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just pick up some in a can later on when I get out of bed. You go ahead.”

“You sure?” my mom asks in a worried tone.

“Yeah, totally. I just want to get some rest,” I say, slightly rushing her off of the phone. The tears in my eyes are becoming heavier, and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to hold them back.

“Okay. I’ll give you a call later to check on you,” she promises. “Stay warm and drink lots of liquids, okay?”

“Okay, talk to you later,” I reply, trying to hide the sadness in my voice. “Thanks Mom.”

“Okay, honey. Bye.”

Quickly, I end the call, feeling distraught. I bury my face in my pillow, allowing the fluffy cotton to soak up my tears. I feel like such a fool! Why did I think Drake would ever want to be with me? A sophisticated billionaire like him probably wants a mature woman with a successful career, not an idiotic college student. My heart aches inside of my chest, and I feel so dumb.

I want to call him, but what if he doesn’t answer? Maybe last night was all a mistake, and he wants to erase me from his life. I don’t know what to think right now; it’s all confusing to me. Last night, I thought we were on the same page, but now, I’m questioning every kiss we shared. Maybe I imagined the emotions in the air. Maybe I was a dunce, and Drake merely wanted a fun roll in the hay.

There has to be a deeper explanation, but I’m too afraid to ask. I should probably just pretend like nothing ever happened, but how can I? Last night was magical, like it was straight out of one of my romance novels. I can’t just forget about losing my virginity to the man of my dreams. But how can I carry on and pretend like we didn’t make sweet love in the moonlight? God, I’m so sappy and now look where it’s gotten me.

I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand as I continue to sob into my pillow. Somehow, I have to move on. What happened last night was wrong, and it can’t happen ever again. It felt amazing being intimate with him, but I have to let go of any fantasies I have about the two of us being together. Last night was special, but things can’t go any further than that, no matter how badly I want a romance to blossom between us.

12

Jenna

It’s been a week since Drake and I enjoyed one another’s bodies, and I’ve been moping about. I thought things were over and that the next time I’d see him would be at one of my family’s functions. I imagined myself being completely embarrassed, yet trying to act normal. After all, how can I forget what happened between us? God knows, I haven’t been able to think of much else, and for good reason too. The man was my first, and he took me so many times that my body still aches a week later.

But it turns out Drake wasn’t dropping me, or at least not immediately because as I gathered my books this morning to head to class, my cell phone buzzed unexpectedly. My heart stopped as I stared at the screen, reading a text message from Drake. He invited me over to his place for dinner tonight.

At first, I wanted to decline his offer because it’s been a week since I last heard from him, but then I said yes. He better have an explanation for his disappearing act last weekend and hopefully, by the end of dinner, I’ll have my answer. Then I’ll leave, and never think of him again.

I wince as I walk down the campus walkway toward the parking lot, the wind grazing my bare legs and causing me to shiver. Drake said he’d send a car, and sure enough, a black vehicle with tinted windows sits in the lot; it must be waiting for me. As I near, I pass a group of guys who stop and turn toward me, ogling my curves in the form-fitting dress I’m wearing. I try to ignore them, but they’re leering like dogs. I keep my eyes on the car, never once looking in their direction. Then, I grab the door handle and pull it open.

“Are you Jenna?” the driver asks as he glances over his shoulder to look at me.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Mr. Morgan is awaiting your arrival,” he says as I get into the backseat. I nod stiffly, even if my heart is already thumping with anticipation.

The drive is short. City lights catch my eye as we ride through downtown Manhattan and my hands shake a bit, but I try to keep myself in check. The closer we get to his place, the more anxious I feel. I shouldn’t be worried because really, this is just a goodbye. I’m going to get my answers and then stroll off without a second glance.

We turn down a street with extremely tall skyscrapers, their spires disappearing into the sky. The car slowly comes to a stop in front of an enormous stone building, the brakes screeching a bit. Taking a deep breath, I stare at the large glass double doors. I know I’m supposed to get out, but for some reason, I can’t. I’m completely overwhelmed by nerves.

“Here we are, Miss,” the driver says in a kind voice. He walks over to my side of the vehicle and pulls open the door. My heart races as I step out, wanting to turn right back around and head back to campus.

“Thank you,” I manage graciously. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good evening, Miss,” the chauffeur salutes. Then he’s off, and I’m in the marble lobby. A large chandelier hangs from the center of the ceiling, the crystals on it twinkling brightly. There are sculptures scattered throughout the marble foyer, giving it an ornate, impressive look, and honestly, I’m a bit afraid I’ll stumble and knock one to the ground.

“Can I help you?” asks a woman standing behind a concierge desk.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” I reply as I walk over to her. “I’m looking for Drake Morgan’s penthouse.”

“Is Mr. Morgan expecting you?” she asks.

“Yes.” She picks up the phone sitting on the desk and quickly dials a number.

“Your name, please?”

“Jenna. Jenna Miller,” I say, stammering a bit.