“I’m real sorry ‘bout that, Mrs. Cecile. I’ll try to be quieter.” Slamming the heal of my palm against the key one more time, the key finally pulls free, and I give Mrs. Cecile my sweetest smile as I turn into my apartment. “Goodnight!”
I hear her unappeased grunt as I close the door.
It’s a little after midnight, and my body hates me. We had a large group of graduates come in last minute at work, and they stayed well after closing. After getting no sleep the night before with Kip, my body is refusing to stay upright any longer. I’m just glad a coworker agreed to drive out of her way to drop me off, or it would have been an hour walk home. I judge the distance to my bedroom and decide the couch is way closer. Grabbing the closest duvet, I drape it over the couch to save the cushions from smelling like stale grease in the morning. I’m in a strange place where tired meets drunk, and the world tilts on its axis when I lie down.
There’s a knock at the door.
Peeling my eyes open, I check my phone still in my hand, and calculate I’ve actually been asleep for over an hour.
“Kaley.”
I blink the sleep from my eyes, confusion setting in. It’s been years since Peter’s come to my apartment, and he’s never come unannounced. I peek through the peephole to double-check and open the door once I confirm it is indeed him.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
Peter glances both ways before requesting to come in.
I step back. “Yeah, sorry,” I say, closing the door behind him.
“Does the crazy lady still live next door?”
Mrs. Cecile has a habit of gossiping to Tanya in the office. She’s part of the reason we decided to start meeting at Hudson’s.
“Yes, but you should know this since you own the building,” I smirk.
He takes in my apartment and shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit. “I’m sorry.”
Wait…what?
“I’m sorry for leaving you like I did Tuesday. It wasn’t fair for me to do that.”
Struck dumb, I wait for him to continue.
“We’ve barely had any time together lately, but that’s not your fault. Please forgive me for being such a jackass. You can’t blame me for wanting to keep you to myself.”
“Peter, it’s fine. You work and have a family, I don’t. It makes more sense for me to bend around your schedule than the other way around.”
He closes the gap between us, and I let him pull me in. “This is why you and I work so well together. You get me. I need to pay more attention to you. Like how we used to be.”
He’s talking about the trips, the shopping, the times before our dates became confined to a hotel room. As twisted and fucked up as it sounds, we had a mutualistic relationship, but it was simple. We spent a lot of time together because it offered us something neither of us had. It offered me the financial stability to keep up with the lifestyle I was used to, and offered him an emotional connection that he had long ago lost with his wife. But oddly, I don’t want those days back. I like our routine. The easy in-and-out of what to expect. No pun intended.
“You’re overthinking this,” I say, trying to put some affection behind my words. “I’m happy with the time I get with you. Any time is better than nothing.”
He smiles, and it reminds me of the carefree person hiding beneath his harsh persona.
“Besides, you’re almost too old to keep up.”
He laughs and I can’t stop my smile.
“I promise to make more of an effort,” he says. “And I brought you a present. An apology, of sorts.”
My smile slips as he pulls an envelope from his pocket, holding it out for me to take. I should turn it away, play nice after his apology. But it’s right in front of me, and I can almost smell the sweet smell of fresh hundreds.
“I should have never put you in the predicament I did. Let me make it up to you.” He shakes the envelope a little, tempting me. I take it absentmindedly.
He dips his head, placing his lips to mine, and all I can hear is the sound of the envelope crinkling between us as our bodies close the gap.
During the trial, my life started to change very drastically. Simultaneously, I lost the house, my car, and most of my possessions. Lance let me crash with him while I figured out what I was going to do. But even then, I wasn’t all that worried. Losing everything didn’t impact me like I thought it would. I was angry, sad, and confused, but not scared.
No, fear came later, when my bank account finally dipped to single digits and Lance was out of town working. I’d never had to worry a day in my life, then all of a sudden I didn’t know how I was going to live, and it was terrifying. I realized fairly quickly, name brand clothes and jewelry don’t mean much when you’re hungry.
When Peter stepped in, my worry slipped away in the blink of an eye. He immediately took care of everything I was scared of. He provided a place to live, money to live on, and then some. I wasn’t just living comfortably, I was living like nothing had changed. It was easy to sink into him. I have always been attracted to men of all ages, and Peter is a very attractive businessman. There wasn’t much to say no to, but I can’t remember the last time I looked at a man and thought of him in any romantic sort of manner.
Until Kip. An image of the way he looked at me when we were in Lilly’s kitchen flashes through my mind.
I’m no longer attracted to Peter. He’s not really a bad guy. Okay, maybe a little, considering he’s a shit husband, but he’s just a typical asshole male: letting his penis do all the deciding. I’ve often wondered if there are other women besides me. Especially once he started limiting our dates to two nights a week, but I eventually realized how much freedom it awarded me. I have a job I like, binge watch as many Netflix shows as I want, and I only have to answer to myself. I like what I have going on, and the last thing I need is someone coming in and disrupting it.
Peter pulls my shirt over my head and I push all my thoughts aside. I feel lighter as I shove the envelope of bills into my purse on the counter, giggling when he runs his scruff up the side of my neck.
“HELLO?”
“Yo, it’s Kaley.”
There’s a beat over the phone before Lilly replies. “Yo’.”
Might as well jump in head first. “How’s life with that ring on your finger? Not getting too heavy, is it?”
“You know what?”
The way she says it makes me smile. “What?”
“It’s kind of annoying. It’s top-heavy, so it’s always flipping upside down, and it clinks against my coffee cup every time I pick it up. Not to mention the freaking attention you get when someone sees it. Glenda from accounting basically screamed at me when she saw it. Screamed like she saw Jesus, I swear.”
“Wow, the engaged life is not for you.”
She slips out a laugh. “I’m just so fucking tired.”
“Why don’t you come over tomorrow? We can cook something and drink wine and watch some of those stupid car shows you love.”
A long pause stretches over the phone line. “That actually sounds amazing. Since when do you cook?”
“I don’t. We can figure it out together.”
“Or order pizza.”
“No, we’re going to make a valiant effort.”
I can almost hear her eyes roll. “Fine. I can make a mean chicken caprese.”
“Now we’re talking.”
We agree on a time and I text her my address before we hang up. It’s then I remember I don’t have any groceries and no car to go grab some. I could call in for a delivery, but the upcharge is ridiculous. I could maybe swing it if I stiffed the delivery guy of a tip, but that would make me a hypocritical asshole.
My stomach sinks when there’s a knock at my door.I check the peephole, expecting Peter, but am shocked to find Kip standing there instead. He’s looking straight at the viewer, and I smile when he makes a hurrying motion with his hand.
When I open the door, he says, “Thought you were just going to stare at m
e all day.”
“What’s with the bike?” I ask, gesturing to a silver mountain bike propped next to my door.
“You said you never had anyone teach you.” He says it like it explains everything.
“So you bought me a bike?”
He looks at me like I’m slow. “Yes.”
I lean a hip against the doorframe. “This doesn’t seem weird to you?”
“You mean outré? No.
“You Googled it?”
“I did,” he says. “But I have some bad news.”
I guess. “My car is kaput.”
He confirms my suspicions by nodding, handing me a folded check. “I was able to get a pretty good deal for the parts.”
I sigh. “Well, thank you for trying.” I move to let him in.
“I’ll wait right here while you go get dressed.”
“Wait,” I say. “We’re doing this right now?”
“Right now,” he confirms.
“Like, right now?” I emphasize my point by pointing to the floor.
“Hurry, we don’t have all day.”
“I have things to do.”
“Like what? Wash your hair?”
Insulted, I pull a few strands of hair from my ponytail and sniff it. “No, asshole, I need to buy groceries. Lilly is coming over for dinner.”
“Really?” This makes him happy. “That’s great. We can stop by the grocery store on the way back.”
It does solve my existential crisis of never being prepared. Without replying, I close the door on his stupid face, smiling at the fact I’m on the right side of the door swing this time. Skipping to my bedroom, it occurs to me I’m way more excited about this than I should be. Like, way too happy to be going anywhere with Kip. But I reconcile it’s because I might finally learn to do something I’ve never been able to master.
My excitement quickly deflates after we’ve been at the park for thirty minutes and all I’ve succeeded in doing is falling. A lot. Eleven times I’ve hit pavement. One scraped elbow and a little blood later, I’m already over bike riding and ready to chunk the entire thing into the garbage bin.
“Kip, there’s no way to stay balanced and push the pedals at the same time.”
A smattering of children pass by, pedaling at super-speeds, and I’ve never wanted to drop-kick a kid like I have today. It’s the fifth time they’ve passed us.
“I never realized how uncoordinated you are until now,” Kip says, maintaining hold of the bike while I straddle it.
“Don’t rub it in.”
“Stop being so scared.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding up my elbow and pointing to it. “Did you miss me barely escaping my death? It’s like I’ve put my arm through a cheese grater.”
“That’s a scratch, Kaley.”
“It’s a gaping wound.”
Exasperated, he sighs. “Let’s try one more time and then we can call it a day.”
“Kip, I’m more of a luxury car girl anyway. It’s fine. Really.”
Breathing deep, he stands with his hands on his hips. “I didn’t ask if you were fine. I said, one more time.” His commanding nature is annoying and weirdly sexy at the same time.
I grunt, agitated with him and my own wayward thoughts. Bracing one foot on a pedal, I prepare to push off with my other foot, hoping I can magically find the spare pedal once I start rolling forward.
“Wait,” Kip says, halting my actions. “Go ahead and place both feet on the pedals. I’ll hold the bike upright.”
“If you let me fall, I swear on my nicest—”
He interrupts me. “I’m not going to let you fall. Start pedaling when I let go.”
“You’re going to let me go?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to question him further, already propelling me forward and I’m forced to match his speed with my legs. I’m absolutely certain this is going to end in catastrophe. He shouts for me to pedal a split second before he lets go of the bike, and I’m shooting forward without his help. I’m upright and I’m pedaling and the wind is in my hair…and I’m riding a bicycle. The absence of the pounding in my chest is so freeing. I have no heart, no pulse.
“I’m riding a bike!”
Almost immediately as the words fly from my mouth, the front tire slips off the path and I dart into the grass. I lose balance, landing on my side, trapped beneath the medal of the bike.
Kip jogs over to me. “You did it.” He smiles, his face coming into view as he leans over me.
“I did it,” I reiterate.
We hold each other’s smile for a few beats until it starts to feel awkward, and I laugh to break the moment. Picking up the bike, he helps me to my feet.
“We can go now, if you like?”
“We can’t leave now,” I say through my excited breaths. “We just got started.”
He laughs. “Whatever you say.”
I skip to the path, not waiting for him to catch up, too excited to walk at his slow pace.
A kid in the little-league bike gang passes by. “’Bout time, lady.”
I start to lift my hand to flip him off when I remind myself I’m in a public park.
Kip finally reaches me, shaking his head as he holds the bike up for me to mount. “You’re irrationally angry with an eight-year-old.”
“They’re riding around on their condescending, rolling thrones of shame, mocking me.”
“You just made all of that up in your head.”
At the most opportune time, a kid happens to pass by and yells, “Try not to stop with your face next time.”
Kip laughs and I shove his shoulder, but I can’t stop my laugh, too.
“Are you sure you want to go again?” Kip asks.
“Yes,” I say, straddling the bike. “I can’t let them see my weakness.”
He shakes his head, finally getting used to my commentary. We do a repeat performance, but this time I manage to stop by clumsily walking the bike to a halt. It wasn’t flawless, but it was better, and no less exhilarating than the first time.
We practice kicking off on my own, but it proves to be the hardest part. Instead of successfully pushing forward, I keep missing the pedals. Kip stays near, catching me when I slip. His hands land on my hips, near my ribs, close to my breasts, and it creates a swimming sensation in my head. Over and over again it’s the same motions, and I can’t tell if I’m even falling on accident anymore.
“You’re distracting me.”
Kip gives me a look. “How?”
“You’re breathing down my neck.”
I’ve felt every single breath he’s taken while hovering over me for the past thirty minutes.
“Sorry,” he says, baffled, backing up another step. “I was just trying to keep you upright.”
I heave a sigh, aggravated with myself more than him. “I know.”
This is torturous. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m flustered with a dozen other emotions I can’t seem to pinpoint.
“Can we take a break?”
“Fine,” he concedes. “I packed a lunch. Maybe we can try again once you’re done freaking out about whatever you’re freaking out about.”
He runs to the truck and comes back with a blanket and a lunchbox, spreading everything out under the shade of a nearby oak tree. Suddenly, bike riding seems less intimate than having a picnic in the park. I look around, noting the other couples enjoying the spring air, knowing Kip and I look like one of them. He sets up a portable radio as I dish out the contents of the lunchbox, handing him the sandwich labeled with no mustard.
“More musical stylings from a donkey banging on banjos today?”
He unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite, chewing a few times, and I’m mesmerized by the way his jaw clenches with the motion. “Something needs to drown out the silence so you don’t talk your lips off.”
It takes a moment, but I start to feel the ends of my mouth inch upwards. “I can’t help it.”
His smile mirrors mine as he looks at me.
“I know.”
He knows.
We eat our lunch in relative comfort, and I feel like a dumbass for freaking out about Kip’s carbon dioxide landing on me. He’s Kip: Lilly’s brother. And I’m Kaley: not the type to come unglued because of a boy. Never. Not in high school, not in college, not anytime I can remember. I’ve never understood it.
Sex? Hell yes. But relationships? Ehhh.
I tried them a few times in high school, once in college, and they were more work than people let on. There’s so much stress that comes with them. Having to explain what I’m doing, when, and why to someone is dumb on so many levels. It’s constantly monitoring someone else’s feelings and desires, more than my own, and it’s a chore. I always failed at putting someone else first. Every relationship I’ve had has ended because of something I did, and I eventually decided relationships aren’t for me. If sex and relationships were synonymous, there’s no doubt I’d be celibate.
Kip lays back, arms crossed behind his head, eyes closed against the harsh sunlight peeking through the gaps in the tree limbs. He’s beautiful, I’ll give him that. A man in every sense. His features are harsh and straight. From the lines of his lips, to the line of muscles under his khaki shorts and cotton T-shirt, his body is all harsh planes and divots. There’s nothing soft or feminine about him.
It’s different from any man I can recall being with. He’s stronger, more confident than the boys in high school and college, and harsher, more rugged than the men I’ve been with at Hudson’s. I’ve been with a wide variety of men, but somehow a man like Kip must have fallen through the cracks. It makes me wonder…
“Have you ever wanted to kiss someone just to see what it would be like?”
Kip opens one eye and looks at me, squinting against the light. “What?”
I curl my legs under me and lean over him so my form blocks the sun. “We’ve known each other for so long. You’ve never thought about it?”
This really gets his attention, worthy of opening both eyes now. “No,” he says.
“Don’t lie. Not even once?”
He looks at me, gauging my seriousness, coming to a conclusion before reclosing his eyes. “No.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, leaning a little bit closer. “Not even a single little kiss on the lips?”
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