Eleven Eleven

by Micalea Smeltzer

11:11 I close my eyes and make a wish. I wish for this move to be the right thing. Quickly, I focus on the road again, scanning my surroundings. Maybe it’s cheesy to wish on numbers, or on shooting stars, but I’ll take all the potential luck the universe tosses my way.

That makes him eleven years younger than me. Ironic. That it’s my lucky number.

“I was eighteen when my daughter was born,” he goes on, like he knows exactly where my brain is at. “I’m forty-three.” Eleven years older. Huh. Interesting.

Interesting indeed

“This doesn’t have to be a big deal.” He leans in and presses a gentle kiss below my ear. “Night, Via.” He pulls back, but with an “oh,” he quickly ducks close again and brings his lips to my ear. “I can fuck you better than my dad ever could.”

I want to mark you so you remember which Crawford you belong to.”

He lets himself out but stops and turns just over the threshold. “Oh.” “Yeah?” “The painting above your couch?” His lips tick almost imperceptibly, like he wants to smile but is trying not to. My stomach twists and my face heats, but I school my expression and clear my throat. “What about it?” He full-blown grins then. Dammit. I wrap my arms around myself, knowing I’ve been caught. “Your dress looked great on my floor. Night, Via.”

“You can talk about him. I don’t mind. He’s in your past, and I fully plan on being your future.”

“Oh, absolutely. But I’m not sleeping with you tonight.” I put my own plate down and join her. She looks over at me, brows drawn in offense. “Why not?” “Because I don’t want to have to tell our future kids that I fucked their mom on the first date.”

“I never said you did, angel. But I want to be your friend.” I laugh outright. “I’m pretty sure you want to be more than my friend, Reid.” “That’s true.” There’s that chuckle again. “But it takes a good friendship to establish a solid foundation. I don’t want to only be your lover. I want to be your person. The one you go to first. The one you think of when you wake up. The one … just the one.”

“Boyfriend?” Chase sputters. “You look like a kid.” I flinch like I’ve been slapped. My grip on Reid’s arm loosens, but he grasps my hand and twines our fingers together, giving mine a squeeze. Then he releases his hold so he can cross his arms over his chest. “And you look like a cheater.” Shots fired.

“Via, if you’re not nice to him, then⁠—” “Then what?” she challenges with a glint in her eye. “Then I’m going to shove my cock down your throat and make you be nice.” “Do it, then.”

“Hey,” Reid says, winding his arms around my waist. “It’s 11:11.” He nods at the clock hanging above the doorway that leads to my office. “Make a wish.”