by Foster, Lily
She put down MOOL. “Now I’m just trying to stump you,” she teased.
“Nice try. Soil, right, but like specifically the dirt on a grave.”
She let out a frustrated, “ugh,” as she reached back into the bag for more letters.
“I like that word. I like quixotic the best, though.”
“Oh yeah, smarty pants?”
“Yeah, it’s a word that fits you.”
She looked up at me, her brow furrowed. “Am I idealistic to the point of being ridiculous?”
“No, I think of it as being a dreamer, seeing what’s best in a situation maybe even when there’s not so much that’s good to begin with.”
She studied me as she took a sip of her wine. “Maybe that’s how I used to be.”
“You always saw the best in me, even when I was an angry little punk.”
“You were never a punk. Even when we were kids I saw you as this strong, silent type…but I always thought you were sweet.”
“That day I pushed you, you thought I was sweet?”
“The next morning you proved to me that you were.” After a pause, she said, “You know I still have that peace offering?”
“What?”
Nodding, embarrassed, she chuckled. “I mean, I ate the candy bar that night, but I saved the note. I stared at that note every night crying after you left school.”
“No way.”
“I did. I mean, I’d conjured up all these terrible scenarios. Where had they taken you? Were you in some sort of juvenile detention hell hole? I felt terrible. You’d been falsely accused and I hadn’t stood up for you.”
“See? Always putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. Anyway, it didn’t feel like it then, but that was the best thing that could have happened to me.”
“I know.”
“I did miss you, though.”
“Me, really?”
“I was totally hung up on you when I was twelve.”
She lowered her head to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. She met my eyes again when she said, “I loved that piece you did…My Friend. That was me and you, right?”
“Yeah. Kind of how I imagined it was between us back then. Even though I hardly ever spoke to you, I did always feel like you were my friend. But you were good to everyone. I think every boy in that class was crushing on you.”
“Right,” she said with a smirk. “Anyway, I couldn’t afford My Friend or any of your other pieces at the Gala. You drew the big bucks. There were bidding wars happening.”
“So Andie tells me. She’s already conned me into committing a few pieces for next year.”
“Did she tell you about True Beauty?”
I flinched. “Did you freak when you saw it?”
Carolyn smiled as she reached over and grabbed my hand. “For a minute I freaked. I mean, it took me back, you know? But it was more like I was in awe. I love it, Jeremy.”
“It was hard to part with that one.” It was hard. I’d wrapped that up and put it in the truck, only to take it out and haul it back upstairs, repeating the process two more times before deciding to take it to Andie.
“Well, that one caused the biggest stir. There were a few patrons who kept trying to outbid one another. It got a little heated. And then Andie took it down, telling everyone that the artist requested its removal from the auction.”
“Why’d she do that?” And why hadn’t she told me?
We’d pretty much abandoned the Scrabble game by then. Carolyn was raking her hands over the board and scooping the tiles back into the bag. She took a moment before answering, “Because she wanted me to have it.”
Relief washed over me. Andie was a genius. “You should have it. It always should have been yours.”
“It’s still wrapped up. I think I’ll wait until I have my own place to hang it.” Her shy smile was drawing me in, making me think about kissing her. “It’s art, and my parent don’t have hang-ups about that sort of thing, but I don’t know if my mom or dad could handle seeing me that way. I mean, the look on my face…it’s pretty obvious what’s on my mind, you know?”
I did know what was on her mind that night and the memory made my dick painfully hard. I was wearing sweats. I thought I was smooth when I casually reached up to grab a throw pillow to place over my lap. She looked right at my crotch and then smiled wide as she rose up and stretched. “I’m gonna get started on dinner, ok?”
“Um, ok. I’m gonna grab a quick shower, all right?”
She made her way to the kitchen but then peeked her head back in and teased, “You do that.”
I was busted and therefore decided to take full advantage by rubbing one out in the shower.
“Hey, you didn’t tell me we were getting all fancy for dinner.” Carolyn looked down at her get-up and then gestured to the loose bun atop her cute little head. “I feel like a shlub.”
I looked down at my outfit. I had on new jeans and a button down with the sleeves rolled up. I guess I had put a little extra effort in but, I mean, I was barefoot. “A shlub? You’ve finally stumped me in the vocab department. Whatever shlub means, I think you look great.”
“I might have made that word up. And I’m not changing,” she added defiantly. “I packed a lot of crap in my bags. With the wine, the bread, the olive oil…I didn’t have room for formal dinner wear.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “You packed olive oil?”
“When I told Marco, the cook, I was stealing some bread, he insisted I take some of his favorite olive oil for dipping.”
“Nice.”
I leaned over her shoulder as she stirred the pot of meatballs and breathed in. “That smells so good.” I was referring to Carolyn, really. Her skin smelled clean and sweet. There was nothing to compare it with—she didn’t smell like vanilla or roses or honey. She smelled like Carolyn, and if you could bottle that scent you’d be a millionaire ten times over.
She bumped her butt backwards. Her hands were full, so that was her way of getting me to back off, but her ass pushing into me had the opposite effect. I was as hard as steel again, my skin felt heated, and it took everything in me not to lean in again and drag her hips back into mine. Back off, I scolded myself, and then willed myself to turn away.
I busied myself slicing the bread and then setting the table for two. “Carolyn, can I pour you another glass of wine?”
“Yeah, I just downed a big glass of water so I’m good to go. I like that Chianti, don’t you?”
“I’m usually a beer guy but yeah, that was really good.”
I handed her the glass. “Cheers. I’m glad you’re here.”
She clinked her glass with mine. “Me too, Jeremy.” Her eyes held mine for a moment before she smiled shyly and then went back to stirring the pot.
I was burning up. Standing over the stove, wearing his flannel shirt, the proximity of his body—it was all working together to make me hot, flustered and itching with a need to strip myself out of these clothes. While he was busy setting the table, I unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it. I was in leggings and just a tank—one that hugged me tight and left a strip of exposed skin at my midriff.
I could feel it when he turned back around. I knew he’d stopped in his tracks and I could feel his eyes trained on me. It’s what I was aiming for but his reaction made me nervous. I didn’t feel particularly schooled in the art of seduction and with Jeremy I really didn’t know where I stood. I mean, the two of us being here alone was a fluke, and while he seemed happy about this unexpected turn of events, I just couldn’t be sure. And the thought of being rejected by him…No, I just couldn’t let my mind go there.
To busy my shaking hands, I reached up to let my hair down and then fixed it into another topknot to trap the strands that had come loose. Jeremy remained stock-still, standing just a few feet behind me. My throat felt tight. I cleared it before saying, “Do you have a strainer? I think the pasta’s done.”
“Um, what?”
“The pasta. I think it
’s done.”
“Oh, got it.”
We stood side by side at the counter. Jeremy dumped the contents of the pot into the colander and then heaped a giant mound of pasta onto each of our plates. I topped each with meatballs and sauce. “Jeremy, I’m not a lumberjack.”
He bumped my hip. “All you runners carb load, right?”
“That’s enough pasta for three of me.”
“Nah, you need to fatten up,” he teased as he pinched my butt.
I think I yelped and jumped about a foot from shock. “Hey, mister grabby hands.”
Jeremy just smiled his sly smile, cut me a glance and then turned as he took both plates to the table. I relaxed a bit as I thought, Maybe he is into me.
You couldn’t get a more romantic setting: the rustic log cabin, the fireplace, the warm lighting, the wine. I was already feeling the wine. When he went to refill our glasses, I stopped him. “That’s enough for me.”
He rose from the table and headed back into the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water.”
“Thanks,” I said as he placed my glass in front of me. “I’m careful with alcohol. I drink but I try and keep it to two.”
His brow furrowed. “Did you have a problem with it?”
“No. It’s just…I guess a need to be in control? Those months after…everything, I hated the way the medication made me feel—fuzzy, dull.”
“I can understand that.” He popped another meatball in his mouth and went on to groan in pleasure.
“Whoa, doggie. It sounds like you’re having a religious experience.”
“What’s the secret?” he asked, mid-chew, the food still in his mouth. God, he made me happy. I was transfixed for a moment, watching his strong jaw work, staring at the drop of sauce that sat on his full lower lip. He was a work of art. Strong—so much bigger and more defined than he was. He was making my head swim more than the wine.
“Carolyn?”
“Hmm?”
“The secret ingredient. What is it? C’mon, give it up.”
“Oh. You were half-right. There are crushed red pepper flakes, but I also dice some prosciutto into the mixture.”
He nodded, seemingly impressed, and then speared another with his fork. “I don’t want you to go getting a big head or anything, but these are the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“That’s high praise coming from a cook of your caliber.”
“Next time I’ll cook for you. I’ve got some new tricks up my sleeve.”
“I’d like that.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said absently.
Jeremy’s eyes were fixed on my chest. I could feel my skin heat under his glare. I reached for my water and downed half the glass. Thank goodness he didn’t seem to notice that I was positively wound up. While I was forcing myself to nibble on my food, he cleaned his plate and then went in for seconds.
We talked about everything and nothing. I found myself relaxing again. There were times when being with him was so effortless. As I twirled my last remaining forkful of pasta and popped it into my mouth, I was overwhelmed by the realization that if nothing else, Jeremy was a friend of mine and I believed he always would be.
He stood up and started clearing the table. “That was delicious, Carolyn. Thanks.” When I went to follow, he turned. “Nope. You park yourself in front of the fire. You cooked, I clean.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” I said, saluting him as I made my way to the couch and flopped down. I felt warm, sated and loose from the wine. I watched him as he made his way from the table to the sink and back again. He was talking to me about snowboarding the entire time but I barely registered what he was saying.
He popped back out of the kitchen, eyes wide, the small bakery box in his hand. “What’s in here?”
“I lied. We do have desert. Marco’s famous cannolis.”
“Oh, woman,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “You know the way to my heart.”
My eyes popped open in surprise but he just held my gaze and smiled at me warmly.
The air between us was crackling louder than the logs in the fire. This was really happening.
Jeremy flopped opposite me, his back against the other arm of the couch. “You wanna watch that movie now?” he asked, handing me a cannoli. “The kettle’s on. I’ll make us some tea in a minute.”
“Ummm,” I murmured, smiling as I bit into my cannoli. “I have to watch it with these. If I could, I’d have one after every meal.”
“Why do you watch your weight, Carolyn? You’re in great shape.”
I shrugged. “I don’t really. I just like to eat healthy. My doctor actually told me I had to start eating more healthy fats, but I don’t think this counts.” I smiled, holding up the cannoli. Absently, I added, “The running was interfering with my cycle.” He cocked his head to the side. Shit. Way to go, Carolyn. “Sorry, that was a little TMI.”
“What cycle?”
Oh, lordy. I felt myself turning a deep shade of scarlet. “It happens to a lot of female runners. My…time of the month? I was skipping a lot. Please,” I pled, “let’s change the topic before I die of embarrassment.”
He nudged my foot with his. “Don’t be weird. It’s just your body.” Jeremy left the room and came back a few minutes later with two mugs. As he handed me my tea, he asked, “So, did it work?”
“What?”
“Changing your diet? Did it put you back on track?”
“Not entirely. My weight was fine but I was still skipping a lot. The doctor prescribed birth control pills. They regulate my cycle. I really didn’t want to take anything and fought my mother and doctor on it for a while. After weaning myself off the other meds, even though it’s an entirely different scenario, I just…you know.”
He nodded. “So you’re on them now?”
“Yeah, I gave in. It’s actually really bad for you if your cycle stops. It can weaken your bones. So now, um, it’s all good.”
I wanted to crawl under a rock in that moment. I started fiddling with the remote but couldn’t turn the thing on. “Here, I got it.” He took it and started scrolling through the channels. He looked over to me, ignoring the cable guide on the screen. “If it makes you feel any better, my menstrual cycle is kind of messed up too.”
I hurled a throw pillow at him, laughing. “You idiot! And why is it that boys can’t pronounce that word?”
“I said it just fine,” he protested.
“No, you annunciated each syllable. Menstru-al.”
Eyes innocent, he asked, “How are you supposed to say it?”
“No. I’m not telling you.” Reaching over, I grabbed the remote from his hand. “Gimme that.”
As our hands touched, there was a clicking sound and then we were shrouded in darkness. The only source of light was the dim output from the dwindling fire. “If you messed up my remote, woman, you’re gonna pay.”
“Wow, Mr. Electrician, haven’t you noticed everything’s off?”
“Shit.” He jumped off the couch. “Let me find the flashlight.”
He was back a minute later, handing me a flashlight and then making his way to the door where he pulled on his boots, gloves and jacket. He switched on his halogen, which lit up everything, and winked at me before leaving. “Be right back.”
I walked into the kitchen, balancing the mugs in one hand and the flashlight in the other. I looked for candles but couldn’t find any.
About fifteen minutes later Jeremy came back in, kicking the snow off his boots on the doorjamb before coming all the way inside. As he stripped out of his jacket, gloves and hat, he told me, “Nothing’s wrong here, but the power is definitely out. None of the houses around here look to have power either. I hope a transformer didn’t blow or something.”
“Well, at least we’ve got the fireplace.”
“We’re going to need it. It’s gotta be around ten below out there and the gas furnace doesn’t run without power.” He looked to me sheepishly. “I’ve been meaning to bring up a back-up generator but I
haven’t gotten around to it.”
“I’m going to report you to the union.”
“I know, I’m a disgrace to my profession.”
“Yes, you are. And now, since you’ve put us in mortal danger and we might not make it through the night and all, I propose that we eat the two remaining cannolis. It would be a shame if we froze to death and then the raccoons got to enjoy them.”
“I’m in agreement with that proposal. More tea?”
“A little more wine for me. Just a little. Red wine tastes really good with cannolis.”
I grabbed the cannolis off the counter and Jeremy poured us some wine. He placed the glasses on the coffee table. “Be right back. I’m gonna change.”
My breaths came in shallow while he was gone. I sipped my wine nervously. Not a day had gone by when I hadn’t thought of Jeremy, thought of what I’d missed out on. I wanted so much from tonight, so much from him. And when he came out, the shirt and jeans replaced by a snug tee and sweats that hung low on his hips, I felt my mouth water for the taste of his kiss, for the taste of his skin.
She was so damn sexy, looking up at me all wide-eyed, lips parted, taking in a wisp of a breath that I wanted to steal right back from her.
That little bit of skin peeking out from beneath her tank held my attention and then my eyes moved up to the tight, hardened peaks I could make out underneath her top. In my fantasy, she’d part her lips and wet them as she slowly pulled the tank down enough so that her plump, round tits sprung free. Then she’d—
“If you don’t grab that cannoli soon, I’m gonna eat your’s too.”
“What?”
“I said I’m about to eat your cannoli.”
I snatched it out of her hand and wolfed it down in two bites. “Don’t think so,” I mumbled with my mouth full.
“Pig,” she teased, laughing.
I plopped down right next to her so that our hips were touching. I wanted her on my lap, wanted her soft pressed up against my hard. But I was a patient man and every single step was going to be on Carolyn’s terms.
We sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping the last of our wine, mesmerized by the flickering flames. She broke the silence, blurting out, “Why did you hold back that night? The night I posed for you?” She looked down to her lap then, embarrassed. Shaking her head, she added, “Don’t answer that.”