She’s staring at me like I have grown a unicorn horn right in front of her.
“Of course, if you don’t, that’s ok too, but we should probably clear this up.”
“I- I-” she sputters, her hands clenching at her sides, “I just assumed.”
“Ah,” I smile. “Assuming. What was it you taught me about assumptions? ‘If you can’t find evidence, never assume anything.’ Wasn’t that it?”
“That refers to textual analysis,” she says.
“Well, couldn’t it also refer to people?”
She presses her lips together, eyes unblinking. “Yes,” she says, after a pause.
“Do you prefer one night stands, Jane?”
She shakes her head.
“Do you like me, Jane?” I grin as I say this, thinking about how much she liked me yesterday. My thoughts must be clear across my face because her cheeks turn a delightful shade of pink.
“Yes,” she says, voice lower, that sexy word, the same word she whispered, moaned, screamed countless times yesterday morning and into the afternoon.
“Ok. Then I repeat my first question, are you mad I showed up tonight?”
She shakes her head.
“Then why all the questions?” I toss the towel on the counter.
“I’m not asking lots of questions,” she huffs.
“You,” I lean into her, tipping her chin upwards me with one finger and leaning into her, “most certainly are.”
I look into her eyes, deep and brown and soft. She softens slightly against me, her body remembering mine. I watch her lids dip and bend my head towards her.
“A-HEM,” comes a loud cough from the kitchen table. Jane steps back, flustered and drop my hands to my sides, wiping them against my jeans.
Six pairs of eyes stair at us from the table.
I feel like a deer in a field of headlights.
Or, perhaps more accurately, a pair of headlights shining down on six frozen deer.
I adjust my stance and the spell is broken. Everyone begins to move at once, pushing back from the table and standing up.
“I need to go.”
“It’s time for me to leave.”
“Let’s head back to my place.”
“Thanks for dinner!”
“I’ll get the book back to you next week!”
In less than five minutes, they’re out the door. The table cleared and wiped, dishes put away. Someone even took out the trash.
Jane and I stand in the kitchen, bewildered at the speed with which her friends torpedoed out of her house.
Even Dory’s enormous freezer box, and all the miscellaneous shells, napkins, and leftovers, is gone.
“That was quick,” I say.
“They can really move when they want to,” Jane turns to me. “You should see them at the outlets on Memorial Day.”
“Really?”
“Total stampede.”
“Hmm.”
Silence.
It’s been a long time since I felt hesitant around a woman. I guess when so many people have been such a sure thing, you begin to lose your touch. Jane stands next to me, hands fussing with a dish towel, and I reach for her.
“David,” she places a hand gently on the center of my chest, eyes on mine.
“You like me, Jane. You’ve admitted it and it’s too late to take it back. And I like you.”
“David-”
“I told you that before, and it seemed to freak you out.”
“David-”
“But then you rocked my world all day long, so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I admitted to having affectionate feelings for you.”
“Affectionate feelings?” Her mouth quirks to one side. “That’s…quite a phrase.”
“Yeah. Affectionate feelings. There we go.”
“I have…affectionate feelings for you too.”
“Great,” I step closer, but she holds me back.
“We’re really different.”
My eyebrows go up.
“I mean, that’s fine, but this is…I don’t know what this is.”
“Ok. Do we have to label it?” I peer down, her eyes staring at my chest, seeming to unfasten a button with just the power of vision. That hesitation again, a hint of nervousness. “What are you worried about, Jane?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugs and looks up at me. Her hand rests on my chest, fingers lightly pressing against my breastbone. She looks like she wants to say something more but thinks better of it.
“I’d like you to stay tonight.” She says suddenly, seeming surprised by the words even as she says them.
“Ok,” I smile, bending down again, my lips soft against hers. “But, on one condition.”
She tilts her head. “What is it?”
“No sex.”
She laughs lightly and loops her arms around my neck. “Why? Too tired?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly, “and…”
“And…?”
I wrap my arms around her waist and press my mouth to her ear. “The houses in this neighborhood are closer together than the houses in mine.”
“So?”
“You’re very loud.”
“Ha!” She laughs and lightly taps the back of my head. “Rude. Fine. I promise only whispered conversation all night long.”
“And I didn’t bring a toothbrush. Or pajamas.”
She runs her fingers through my hair and urges my mouth closer to hers.
“I can help with an extra toothbrush…”
“And the pajamas?”
She smiles against my mouth. “Well, I don’t wear any. Why should you?”
24
Jane
The sun trickles through the leaves overhead and I can’t believe I am stretched naked on a blanket, beside my favorite swimming spot.
Well, actually, I can believe that. I’ve been here before, naked here before in fact.
But this time, I’m not alone.
And I’m not shy. Not anymore. It’s as if weeks with David have quieted that voice in my head, the one that said I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough, or funny enough. The one that said I need to be the smartest, the most prepared, the best speaker and presenter and researcher because if I wasn’t the best at those things, then I was nothing. There was nothing else to me.
I watch the shadows of the leaves beneath the sun cast shapes across his shoulders, smiling at the patterns forming across his body. How odd it must be, to be so beautiful, to make a living being beautiful.
“Were you born beautiful?”
He looks up, hands still on the large bag he’s placing on the blanket next to me. “What?”
“Did you ever have an awkward phase? Like braces or big feet or no pubic hair? Or did you…”
