Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

  He insisted on walking me all the way home. As we walked side-by-side, my shoulder inadvertently brushed his arm several times. Each time we touched, the electric current that I was becoming accustomed to caused my body to tingle. It was a welcome sensation, and I looked forward to each one. Like a teenager, I tried to orchestrate “accidental” bumps into him. I felt more alive than I had in years. I had no idea if the feeling was mutual. He showed no indication that he also felt the energy between us.

  As we approached my building, my anxiety took over. I was completely out of my element. I had a rule about bringing men to my apartment. It was prohibited, and it was a rule that I would not compromise on. My personal space was my sanctuary, and it was not something that I was willing to share.

  Yet, I didn’t want the night to end. He was gorgeous and funny. Something about him made me want to break every rule I had. First, I would grab him and lead him through the lobby. I imagined him pushing me up against the wall of the elevator. I imagined running my hands under his t-shirt. My fingertips tingled at the thought of gliding across what I guessed would be rock-hard abs. I could almost feel his hot breath on my neck and his lips tracing a path to my own.

  Maybe my imagination wasn’t running wild. It was entirely possible that I was reliving a liquor-soaked memory from the weekend before. The temptation to take him upstairs and test this theory was almost too much. But I had already broken too many of my rules tonight. So as we stood in front of my building, I turned to Adam. “Thanks for dinner,” I said. “It was unexpected.”

  “Are you done for the night?” he asked. “No dessert for you?” We had eaten plenty at dinner, but he still looked hungry.

  I knew that he was subtly asking to come up, and I liked his approach. He had no idea just how much I would like some ‘dessert.’ Conflict tore through me once again. I pushed it aside. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” I groaned. “I’m so-o-o-o full.”

  I turned to tell him goodnight. Against my better judgment, I took one step toward him and closed the gap between us. Cologne and bar soap swirled around me, leaving me a bit woozy. Or it could have been the two glasses of wine that I had at dinner. I leaned in to give him a simple kiss on the cheek. Just as I got close, he turned his head. His lips lightly brushed mine and lingered there. That damn electricity popped between us.

  I don’t know if it was him or me that initiated the change, but suddenly it wasn’t just our lips that were pressed against each other. My entire body seemed to melt into him. Our arms, which had been hanging limply at our sides, reached out for each other. His hands found the sides of my face and roughly held my lips against his. Not to be outdone, my hands slid into his open jacket up his chest until they rested on his sculpted shoulders. My head spun as his mouth claimed mine for his own. I needed to get hold of myself.

  “Are you sure you’re not still hungry? Maybe just a little?” he asked huskily.

  “Totally full,” I murmured as I pulled away. I dropped my hands to my sides again. I felt a blush creep up my neck and take over my cheeks. “Next time, I’ll try not to eat so much.”

  I turned away from him and reached for the door. I looked over my shoulder to say goodnight and noticed for the first time the snow falling around us. The weather had turned icy and cold; yet I could have been standing on a beach in Mexico. I was warm from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. “Goodnight, Adam,” I said.

  “Goodnight, Allie,” he said, so quietly that I almost missed it. His eyes were dark with desire and, maybe, something else that I couldn’t put my finger on.

  I went upstairs and locked myself in my apartment. As I changed into my pajamas, I thought about our non-date. Once again, I was unnerved by his use of the nickname. And having to adjust to his hot and cold spells all evening had been exhausting, if not a little frightening. The little voice in my head told me that he was dangerous, but his whipsawing moods just served to make me more curious. In fact, my curiosity about Adam Michael Hill had reached a fever pitch. I wanted to see him again. Despite all the warning bells that had been going off since that first morning, I couldn’t wait for our next meeting.

  It was in the middle of the mental rant that I was raging against myself when I realized that he hadn’t asked for my phone number. He didn’t even know my last name. At least I didn’t think he did. Maybe he didn’t want to see me again. If he did, I wasn’t the only one with strange dating rules.

  Adam was turning out to be a real head-scratcher.

  CHAPTER 5

  Adam

  Dinner had gone just as I had planned. Well, except for one thing. I still didn’t understand how I could be so attracted to her; I had hated her for so long. Yet, I kept flipping back to that kiss on the sidewalk and how she had pressed her body into mine. I’d felt the charge between us, and I know that she felt it, too. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to invite me up, I had wanted nothing more than to sling her over my shoulder and haul her ass up there caveman-style. I had resisted because I could wait and because when I went there, it would be at the expense of a guilty conscience.

  I thought that I knew all of her secrets but her prohibition against dating was something I hadn’t expected. It was going to make getting her to fall for me a little harder ... but not impossible.

  She would fall for me ... and the harder the better because I was going to break her heart.

  Even if I smashed into a million pieces, it would only be a fraction of the heartache that she’d caused me every single day for the past 10 years.

  Alexis

  When I came to a stoplight, I looked skyward. Dark clouds were rolling across the oppressive grey sky from west to east. Until just a few minutes ago, it had been a beautiful and unusually warm day after a very cold spring, but the weather in northern Texas could be very unpredictable. The rumble of thunder signaled that the storm was closing in.

  I leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. The cheer clinic had run late, and I was rushing home to change my clothes. A crack of lightning shot across the sky, and a single fat raindrop smacked me in the forehead. Annoyed, I wiped it away with the back of my hand.

  I was driving too fast, but then another half dozen raindrops smattered against my windshield. Another clap of thunder was so close that my car seemed to shake. It almost drowned out the chirp of my phone. I reached into my bag and blindly fished through it as the phone rang again. I tapped the brake. My fingertips brushed the smooth surface just as my foot slipped and hit the gas pedal. Hard. The engine revved, and the little car lurched forward and jumped the curb.

  I woke Sunday morning in pure terror. It was the third time this week. The frequency of the nightmare was starting to alarm me. I shook it off and grabbed the sweatshirt that I had thrown on the floor by the bed. Throwing my arms through the sleeves, I walked barefoot into the kitchen. I flipped on the light and bee-lined it for the coffee maker. I popped a pod into the machine and drummed my fingers on the counter, waiting for it to heat up. I needed coffee, and I needed it fast. As soon as the green light blinked at me, I pushed the start button.

  While the coffee streamed melodically into my ‘There’s a chance this is vodka’ mug, I dug through my purse on the kitchen table. I pulled out what I was looking for and popped the pills in my mouth. I grabbed a glass out of the sink and gave it a once-over to see if it passed inspection. It was passable so I filled it with enough water to wash down the pills. Taking a big gulp, I swallowed my little bit of happy. I needed some food in my system so that they wouldn’t upset my stomach. I reached into the drawer and grabbed a spoon. I pulled a jar of peanut butter out of the cabinet and screwed the top off. I dipped the spoon inside and pulled out a gigantic blob.

  Rubber Cat was smearing himself up against my left leg so I reached under the sink for the cat food and topped off his bowl. When he began nipping at my calves, I bent over and slid half of my peanut butter off the spoon and into his bowl. Now that my roommate was satisfied, I checked the clock on t
he microwave and was startled to realize that it was later than I had thought. I grabbed my now full cup of coffee from the machine and headed to the bathroom. I had big plans for the day.

  ***

  I almost skipped up to the dilapidated building in front of me. The peeling paint and dirty exterior had long ago ceased to faze me. My Sunday afternoon appointments were, without a doubt, the best part of my week.

  I walked through the propped open door and hung an immediate left into the stairway. On the second floor, I walked down the dingy, dimly lit hall. After making this trip almost every week for the past four years, I stepped over the beer cans and trash that littered the stained carpet with hardly a thought.

  Reaching apartment 23B, I knocked on the door. The door swung open before my hand had even dropped away. Lizzy beamed at me from the open doorway. She looked forward to Sunday afternoons as much as I did. Excitement lit up her face, making her seem younger than her 14 years.

  Her tight purple t-shirt and skinny jeans showed off her gaunt little body more than I would have preferred, but I could tell that she had tried hard to look nice for me. She wore fake Ugg boots that had probably come from a secondhand store, and her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  “Are you ready to go?” I asked, smiling broadly at her.

  “Yeah,” she said with a big, toothy grin. “Just let me tell Amber that we are leaving.”

  “I should probably check in with her,” I said reluctantly. “I haven’t talked to her in a while, Lizzy.”

  “Well, she’s probably not awake,” she said as the excitement drained from her face. She stared down at her boot as she rubbed the toe of one into the floor.

  “It’s no big deal,” I said lightly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. “If we can’t wake her, I’ll just catch her when we get back.”

  Lizzy backed out of the doorway to let me in. I took a quick look around. The one-room apartment was filthy. The small kitchenette in the corner was littered with dirty dishes and empty food wrappers. A cockroach scurried out of a pan and onto the counter. From the look of it, its unidentifiable contents had been there for some time. I seriously doubted that even the roach could find that palatable. I stifled the urge to shake my head, but I wondered how someone could allow their own child to live like this.

  In the opposite corner, Lizzy’s mom, Amber, was curled up in a fetal position on the couch. The velour fabric was so threadbare that the flower pattern had long ago become unidentifiable. A blanket was pulled up to her chest, and I was sure that Lizzie had put it there.

  Amber was passed out cold. No amount of shaking was going to bring her around. I had no doubt that the empty beer bottles on the scratched coffee table had something to do with her Sunday afternoon siesta.

  “Well, I say we take off then,” I said, sending a reassuring smile in Lizzy’s direction.

  She took one last look at her mom and headed to the door. We left the building the same way that I had come in. As we stepped through the front door onto the sidewalk, Lizzy left the building and her troubles behind. I marveled at her ability to shrug off the hand she’d been dealt. I was almost twice her age her, but still hadn’t developed that skill.

  “So where are we going today?” she asked brightly.

  “I thought we would go see the new Channing Tatum movie,” I said with a sly grin.

  Lizzie squealed in delight and grabbed my hand. I laughed as she practically dragged me down the street.

  ***

  First thing Monday morning, one of the partners called me into his office and asked me if I would work on a document review project that would take all week. I eagerly agreed ... not because the work was stimulating, but because it was a great way to log some extra hours. I always accepted these projects under the guise that it would allow me some padding if I wanted to take a vacation later. However, other than a few days around Christmas, I hadn’t taken a vacation in the two years that I had been at the firm.

  It was a fun and easy project. Ten of us younger associates were set up in a conference room together. We clicked through documents on our respective computers, marking them relevant, not relevant, or privileged. Each document required only a cursory glance. As a result, there was a lot of laughing and joking that went on during the week. Food was brought in so that we could work straight through meals. We were literally trapped together for 14+ hours each day. Each night, I left the office mentally drained and went straight home.

  It was Wednesday afternoon when my secretary knocked lightly on the open door to get my attention. She stood in the doorway with a large white box cradled in her arms. Was that a cake box?

  “Yes, Ms. Harper, I believe it is,” she said matter of factly. “It was just delivered.”

  I must have spoken the inner ramblings of my head aloud again. I hated how often I did that. And I didn’t understand why she insisted on calling me by my last name. She placed too much emphasis on the name that I rarely felt like I lived up to. Regardless, no amount of prodding on my behalf would convince her to do otherwise. “Okay, thanks,” I said, “Please just put it on the table.” I gestured toward the credenza against the wall. Its surface was almost completely covered with neat rows of different types of cans of soda and individually packaged snack foods. And now a large white cake box.

  Ethan, who sat at the computer next to me, looked at me curiously. I shrugged and looked back at my computer screen. I only made it through about five documents before he said, too loudly, “Well, aren’t you going to at least check it out?”

  I looked at his incredulous face and laughed. “Sure, if it will make you feel better.” I stood up and walked to the table. A small card was taped to the top of the box. I opened the envelope and read the neat, but masculine handwritten note:

  Alexis,

  I have been thinking about dessert and am hoping that you are, too. In case you can’t wait until the next time ....

  Adam

  I sucked in a breath. The message seemed innocent enough, but, to me, it was filled with sexual innuendo. I was sure that “dessert” would never have the same meaning for me. My mind raced back to our kiss on the sidewalk outside my apartment building, remembering the way my body had melted into his and the lusty way he had looked at me afterwards. I unconsciously ran my fingers over my lips.

  “Dessert? But you don’t go on second dates,” Ethan said, mocking me. His voice ripped me back to the present. I hadn’t even realized that he had followed me over. He had read the note over my shoulder and was now looking at me disapprovingly.

  “It was nothing,” I said, waving my hand and the note in the air dismissively. “We ran into each other at Michelangelo’s. I was picking up some takeout and he was having dinner. I ended up sitting down and eating with him.”

  “If you say so,” Ethan said without much conviction.

  “I say so,” I said sternly. We were still standing there, staring at the unopened box.

  “Well, aren’t you going to open it? Twenty dollars says that there is something delicious in there, and it needs to get in my belly,” Ethan said. His tone had lightened. The way to a man’s heart truly was through his stomach.

  I rolled my eyes at him and opened the lid on the box. Inside was a frosted Carvel ice cream cake. It was simply decorated in white and hot pink. A message was written in the center of the cake.

  For more dessert, call 212-240-9609.

  I laughed. I was betting that wasn’t the number of the ice cream shop.

  “That dude is smooth,” Ethan said with a smirk. “I think he could even teach me a few things.”

  “Alexis ...” he began, with a reprimanding gleam in his eye.

  “Don’t start,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s nothing. It was just dinner. And it’s not going any further.”

  Ethan looked at me skeptically, but grabbed a knife and fork from the basket on the table. “I’m digging in,” he said. “If you want that number, you better get it now because when I’m done only
the area code will be left.”

  “No need,” I replied, gesturing that he should proceed with the demolition. But, as he cut into it, I’d already committed the number to memory.

  ***

  It was several hours before I could pull myself away from the conference room without raising Ethan’s suspicions. When I got to my office, I sat down behind my desk and put off the inevitable by checking my voicemail and answering a few emails. Eventually, I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I pulled my cell phone out of my desk drawer.

  I couldn’t bring myself to actually call him. After all, I was a good southern girl. Though I knew that it was an archaic concept, I had been raised under the belief that no respectable girl would call or chase after a boy. And despite the fact that my respectability with regard to Adam had already been called into question, my momma’s lessons were ingrained. So rather than dial his number, I typed it into a text message. I stared at the screen for a few minutes, deciding what to say before I started typing.

  ALEXIS: Dessert was delicious. Once again, you have left me hungry and wanting more. Thanks.

  I pressed send. Did I really just send that? So much for respectability.

  I stared at the screen as the message turned from white to green, indicating that it was too late to take it back. It was possible he wouldn’t get it though. I didn’t even know if the number was actually a cell phone. If it was a landline, he would never get my text. Of course, if that was the case, I would actually have to call and speak to him if I wanted to thank him. The thought of that caused me even more anxiety.

  His incoming text squashed my fears.

  ADAM: Hope you thoroughly enjoyed it. Wouldn’t mind some dessert myself right now.

  A thrill shot through me. I tapped my finger on my desk as I considered what to say next. Before I could come up with a response, the phone vibrated without ringing. Though the screen identified the incoming call as an unknown, I immediately recognized it. I dropped the phone on my desk like it was hot and stared at it stupidly as it rang five times and then went silent again. I waited for the voicemail notification to appear. Instead, a new text came in. The texts flew back and forth after that.