Then I remembered the one time in middle school when I put a half-eaten Jolly Rancher on my dresser and somehow it fell into one of the drawers. Three socks, a pencil and a G.I. Joe guy were stuck to it when I found it a month later.

Probably wasn't a good idea to put something like that anywhere near a vagina, especially Claire’s vagina. No harm should ever come to Claire’s vagina.

I was probably imagining things, but I swear every time I glanced over at her she looked away quickly. It made me smile to myself thinking that she might be staring at me too. I knew Drew was right. I needed to stop fantasizing about a girl I was never going to see again. It was five years ago for God's sakes. I was acting like a pussy, holding on to the tiny bit of information I had on her. For all I know she looks like Sloth from The Goonies now and smells like Drew’s sweaty balls. I tried to forget about her by getting into a relationship with Tasha a couple of months after that frat party. Almost five years later and I was still stuck in the same rut of fantasizing about someone I’d never see again. To be fair though, I should have known from the start that Tasha and I weren’t the best idea. We spent the majority of our time together in some sort of argument or another. She had a jealous streak that bordered on psycho and hated that I didn’t behave the same way if another man glanced in her direction. What I should have done was hold out for someone like Claire. Someone sweet, and funny and smart; someone who didn’t have a whole other side to her like Tasha. Right in front of me was a beautiful woman that made me think dirty thoughts just by watching her breathe. I needed to cut this shit out and take a chance.

Aside from the jealousy and fighting, I knew one of the main reasons Tasha and I didn't last was because I just wasn’t able to give the relationship one-hundred percent because I couldn't stop wondering if she might still be out there somewhere.

That and the fact that Tasha’s va**na had the same slogan as McDonalds: Over ten billion served.

I digress.

I needed to put a stop to this stupid fixation on some faceless mystery girl who could very well be a figment of my imagination. I needed take a chance on someone who was sitting right here in front of me or I was going to be alone forever. I was too busy contemplating my pathetic life to notice that Claire was no longer across from me and had gotten up to leave. She was already rounding the corner into the foyer when I snapped out of it.

I sat there staring at her back (fine, her ass) long enough for Drew to punch me in the arm. He not so subtly nodded his head in the direction she went and suddenly I realized all eyes were on me. They were looking at me like, "what the f**k are you waiting for?" Liz narrowed her eyes at me and I'm not gonna lie, I was a little scared of her. I jumped up from the couch and ran out of the room, catching her right as she finished putting her coat on. Circling behind her back, I opened the door and stood next to it.

She was surprised by my presence and jumped a little at the sound of my voice and the door opening. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. I need to kiss her. I need to kiss her like I need to breathe. What the f**k is this woman doing to me? Before I made a complete ass of myself by drooling or pushing her up against the wall so I could attack her lips, she turned and walked through the door without saying a word to me after I told her I’d walk her to her car. I had an irrational need to spend more time with her. I wanted to learn what made her blush (aside from talk about her vagina), what song was on repeat on her iPod and what her favorite book was. I wanted to hear her say my name.

Fuck, I wanted to hear her sigh, shout and scream my name.

So, I told her just that. Well, not all of it. I didn't want her to get a restraining order. I watched the corners of her mouth twitch when I said her name, almost like it made her happy to hear it. For a second, I thought she would just get in the car and peel out of the driveway without answering me. Then she muttered something that I almost didn't hear over the sound of a car starting next door. The words she spoke force my mouth to drop open and pushed the memory of a dream I had recently to the forefront of my mind.

"Ask me what my favorite movie is."

She interrupted my thoughts by telling me to call her. By the time I remembered where I knew that quote from, her car had pulled out of the driveway and was speeding down the street.

***

For the next two weeks Claire and I talked every night on the phone. Unfortunately, the plant put me on night shift and overtime for the first few weeks so our schedules never meshed so we could see each other. The only spare time we both had to talk was during my first fifteen minute break around midnight every night. I always apologized to her for calling at such a shitty time but she swore it was absolutely perfect. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I actually looked forward to going to work because I knew I’d get to hear Claire’s voice. Drew, who worked directly across from me on the assembly line, got entirely too much pleasure out of watching me rush to a quiet corner of the plant to make the call. The first time, he asked me where I was going and when I didn’t answer, he followed me the entire way, shouting to every single person that I was calling my parents to tell them I was coming out of the closet. A well-placed punch to the nuts curbed his desire to do that ever again, but people were still coming up to me and patting me on the back in congratulations.

For fifteen minutes every single night, Claire and I talked about nothing and everything all at the same time. I told her about growing up with two older brothers who confirmed my belief in the boogey man and had their friends call me and tell me they were Santa Clause and that I would never get another toy again if I didn’t clean their rooms while wearing a pair of their underwear on my head.

Claire told me about her parent’s divorce and her decision to live with her father, who I hadn’t even met and already feared. He went to a birthday party the previous weekend and when trying to break up a fight, some guy said to him “What are you going to do about it grandpa?” Claire’s dad knocked him out with one punch and said “THAT’S what I’m going to do about it, asshole.” Claire tried to convince me that her dad was a giant teddy bear, but where I come from, you’re not afraid to meet a teddy bear in a dark alley at night for fear that he’ll scalp you and tattoo his name on your ass.

I regrettably told her about Tasha and the reason for the breakup. I even spilled my guts to her about how I didn’t know if I ever even really loved Tasha and was just biding my time until the right person came along. I didn’t tell her more about the one-night-stand from college that Drew brought up at dinner that night and she never asked about it, thankfully. Even though it was easy to talk to Claire about Tasha, it seemed wrong to talk to her about the woman I’d dreamed about for five years. Claire was sweet and smart and funny and I didn’t want to taint any of that with a stupid dream. The more I talked to Claire and got to know her, the more it became clear that she could be the one I was waiting for. I felt like the majority of the time we talked more about me than we did her and when I pointed that out, she just laughed and said there wasn’t much to tell because her life was so boring. Still, with each phone call I learned something new about her and I was willing to spend as long as it took to know everything there was to know about her.

Finally, after fifteen days of hovering in corners at work away from the loud machines to listen to Claire’s softy, husky voice as she lay curled up in bed under the covers talking to me, I was going to see her again. The plant finally gave me a Saturday off of work and I was more than happy to spend it checking out Claire and Liz’s shop (fine, Claire’s ass). Claire had sent me a few pictures on my cell phone in the last week and from what I could tell, they were making enormous progress on the place. In reality, I didn’t care if I was meeting Claire in a garbage dump; as long as I could be close to her I would be happy.

At ten that Saturday morning, I pulled up in front of the address Claire gave me for the shop. I sat in the car for a minute, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. I probably got around three hours of sleep last night. All I did was toss and turn, thinking about seeing Claire again and being close enough to touch her. I’m not gonna lie though, the thing that gave me the sleepless night was the quote she used absentmindedly on the phone the previous night. It was the second time she’d used it around me and no matter how much I tried to push it from my mind, that stupid nagging though about her popped back up. A lot of people have seen the movie Heathers. And really, "fuck me gently with a chainsaw" could be a very popular way to say "holy shit" nowadays.

Uh-huh, yeah right.

Her use of that saying could be the biggest f**king coincidence in the history of the world, or I just boarded the crazy train headed straight for cuckoo city. I pulled my cell phone out of the cup holder and checked the time, smiling when I saw the picture of Claire that I was using as my screen background. I caught a lot of shit from Drew when he saw it, but I didn’t care. I covertly asked Liz to send a picture of Claire to me and she was more than happy to oblige. The picture she sent was a black and white close up of Claire, laughing unabashedly at something, with one hand held up to her face and her fingers spread in such a way that you could still see her beautiful smile, the mirth in her eyes and the dimples in her cheeks. It was stunning, and I only hoped I would be able to put that look on Claire’s face myself one of these days and be there to witness it.

Looking at the picture of Claire on my phone erased the confusion and questions from my mind and made me just want to concentrate on her, not ghosts from the past. I shut the engine off and got out, finally taking a good look at the building I parked in front of. I was impressed. It was bigger than I thought it would be and it looked great from the outside. I could see Liz through the front window on what must have been her side of the store, so I rounded the front of the car and stepped up on the sidewalk. I started walking towards the front door and had to stop short when a little boy went flying in front of me, arms and legs flailing all over the place.

"Gavin, get your ass back here!"

On instinct, my arm flew out and I grabbed onto the back of the kid's shirt, halting his progress of running away. A guy, probably close to fifty, jogged over to where I was.

"Hey, thanks for stopping him," he said, looking down at the boy with a stern face that would have made me cringe if I was on the receiving end of it. I let go of his shirt, confident that the little runaway wasn't going anywhere now that he'd been caught.

"Gavin, how many times have I told you that you can't just take off when you get out of the car? You have to hold my hand."

The kid shrugged. "I don't know. I was just hurryin' my ass to the ice cream store 'fore it all meltses."

I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my laugh. This kid had balls! The poor guy just rolled his eyes at the boy and let out a sigh.

"If you enjoy your sanity at all, don't have kids," the guy said to me before grabbing the kid's hand and walking away.

"Thanks for the advice!" I yelled to him as the two of them walked into the ice cream shop next door.

Liz noticed me on the sidewalk through the window just then and opened the door for me.

"Good morning!" she said brightly as I walked inside.

Everywhere I looked I saw bras, underwear and all sorts of frilly shit on hangers and displayed on tables. I could almost feel my dick shriveling up and retreating back inside my body. I didn't mind taking this stuff off of a woman, but standing in the middle of a room surrounded by this crap made me feel entirely too in touch with my feminine side.

Jesus fuck, what is THAT?

"That's a ball gag mask, Carter. I take it you aren't into bondage?" Liz asked seriously, noticing the direction of my gaze.

"Uh, I….umm…"

Is it hot in here all of a sudden?

"Have you ever tied up a partner? Used whips? Experimented in anal play? Had a threesome? Would you say you're more of a dominant or a submissive? When was the last time you were checked for STD's?"

"What? I mean, I…."

"How many sexual partners have you had in the last five years? Have you ever been convicted of a sex crime against another human, animal or plant?"

"ELIZABETH!"

Oh thank God. I don't think I've ever been happier to hear the sound of Claire’s voice.

"I've got my eye on you," Liz whispered, looking me up and down and doing the whole two-finger point from her eyes to mine.

"Duly noted," I muttered as I walked past her and over to the doorway behind the counter where Claire was currently standing with her hands on her hips. Since she was busy staring over my shoulder shooting dirty looks at Liz, I had the opportunity to take her in unnoticed. It was unbelievable how she seemed to have gotten even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. Maybe it was because I knew her so much better than before. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail with stray pieces falling down around her face. I noticed a smudge of flour or maybe powdered sugar on her cheek and I wanted to lick it off. My dick got hard just thinking about tasting her skin.

"I'll deal with you later, Liz," Claire threatened.

"Shut your mouth and get your scraggly ass back in the kitchen where you belong, whore!"

Claire rolled her eyes and jerked her head behind her.

"Come on, I'll show you my part of the store."

She reached for my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. When our skin touched I had a hard time forcing my feet to move. I just wanted to stand there and stare at her. Claire smiled at me and turned, pulling me gently along behind her. We walked through the storage room of Liz’s store and it took everything in me not to reach out and grab her ass. Fuck, she was wearing jeans again. This woman in a pair of jeans should be illegal. My brain didn't work when she wore jeans.