So Different

by Robinson, Ruthie

  * * *

  She was on her bike again, riding to his place. To talk, she decided. She would talk and explain that this was no longer enough for her, no more Tuesdays and Thursdays. Nope, not enough anymore, it was more or nothing. Okay, it was more or nothing afterward. She’d tell him all of her decisions after she’d gotten one more night spread out underneath him, his hips holding her in place, his request to “open for me” heating her blood.

  * * *

  He sat waiting for her, wondering if she’d come. He was never sure with Mariah, even the new I-want-more Mariah. He was back to his old routine; some demonstration of independence he’d shown the last week. It had been an internal test to see if he could let the sex go. Let her go, the funny, challenging Mariah. He was irritated with himself for putting himself back in this position of wanting someone again. What happened to keeping it simple, to taking some time to figure out what he wanted, to just going with the flow.

  He heard the knock at the door, went to answer it. His eyes roamed over her, his new idea of sexy in those boots and a soft skirt to her knees. Sad it didn’t even have to be short these days to get his blood flowing, just her in it was enough. She was braless underneath her t-shirt. He knew from experience.

  She smiled, stepped in, and removed her helmet. Her hair was back to blonde, another kick. He placed her helmet on the floor, reaching for her bag next and setting it next to her helmet, in some kind of hurry. Slow down, dude, he told himself, but his body leaned in for a kiss.

  She seemed to be of like mind; her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back. They must have felt the same need because they both feasted at each other’s mouths for a while.

  When he’d gotten his fill, he pulled away. She pulled him back, apparently not having topped off yet, and he obliged. A couple of minutes later she pulled back and smiled. He did, too, then turned and walked her to his bedroom, where they made up for the lost week.

  * * *

  When she could catch her breath, she turned to face him. “I was thinking we could try going out sometimes. We don’t have to limit our time to just Tuesday or Thursday. I could give you my telephone number, and you could call when you want to reach me so you don’t have to show up at practice,” she said.

  He pushed her onto her back and kissed her again, putting an end to her talking, and she let him, one more time.

  “Adam,” she said, when she could break free. He kissed her again, knocked her legs apart, not as softly as he usually did, and entered her, clearly not in the mood for talking. Fine. She pushed her hips up to meet his thrust.

  Thirty minutes later his phone on the nightstand beeped, indicating the arrival of a text. Mariah lay next to him, trying to catch her breath again. He reached across her body and picked up the phone to read the text, deciding to let her read it, too, just because she was starting to annoy him with that I-want-more bit again, and to maybe quiet the internal push that he was starting to feel.

  He lifted his cell phone up. They were both on their backs still and he read it. And because Mariah’s head was at his shoulder, she read it, too, noting that he wanted her to see it.

  “I HAD A GOOD TIME THE OTHER NIGHT. WHEN CAN WE GET TOGETHER AGAIN? it read.

  “What other night?” she asked, her head still on his shoulder.

  “Last Thursday,” he said.

  Mariah’s mind went into action. So the other night when he hadn’t stopped by during practice… She didn’t say a word, and just read it again, watching as he texted back, writing that he’d call her later.

  “Who’s Tiff?” she asked, proud at her ability to ask that question in a normal tone.

  “Remember the girl from the roller derby?” he said, turning his face to look into her eyes, her head still resting against his shoulder. “She was there with me and Michael at the first bout, the first time I saw you.” He watched comprehension dawn in her eyes.

  “Oh, I thought you weren’t dating anyone,” she said.

  “I wasn’t. I’ve only gone out with her twice.”

  “Oh, only twice, huh?” she said, sitting up slowly.

  “You’re okay with that, right?” he said, laughing a little. She didn’t know what to make of him. Was he serious?

  “Sure,” she said, in a very clearly unconcerned manner, surprising him with her calm. She turned back to look at him.

  “You know what? I think I’m done.”

  “What? What do you mean, done?” he asked as she stood, facing him from the foot of his bed.

  “I’m done,” she said, again in that I’m-not-bothered way he hadn’t seen before, without a trace of attitude. She walked to his side of the bed and looked down at him, still lying there, his eyes looking up at her now.

  “Yep, I’ve changed my mind about what I want,” she said, letting her words die. She stood there, her hands now on her slim hips, her blonde hair short and everywhere on her head, beautiful body bare.

  Wait! his head screamed. Surely you’re not letting her go. Tell her you didn’t mean it. He sat up, put his feet on the floor, and looked up at her again.

  “Don’t leave angry,” is what he ended up saying.

  “I’m not. I’m not angry,” she said, chuckling now, shaking her head, laughing again as she pulled on her underwear and grabbed her boots. She turned and walked out of the bedroom and into the living room where she grabbed her t-shirt, not in any particular hurry, just as normal as you please. She slid into her skirt and reached for her boots, stuffing her feet into them, not bothering to tie them. She grabbed her hoodie from her bag and pulled it over her head. He’d followed her out, and now stood there.

  She wasn’t going to let him see her sweat. This was no big deal, the big ass. She pulled her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her helmet, and walked to the door. She turned to him, her face wiped clean of anything other than pleasantness.

  “See you around,” she said before she opened the door and walked out. He couldn’t follow her. He was still nude, and what would he tell her anyway? I know you want more, but I’m really not sure that I do. You can’t change your mind now. I’m not ready to stop. I like you, but I’m not ready for anything else.

  He walked over to the window, moving the blinds with his finger. He couldn’t see her, not sure where she’d parked, but he heard the sound of her electric scooter starting up. A few moments later she became visible in his line of sight. He watched her until she disappeared.

  It’s what you wanted, right? He stood there for a while, not sure how to proceed. Well, it had to end at some point, right? He walked back to his bedroom and sat on the bed, taking in the rumpled sheets, and laid down, staring at the ceiling. The light from the complex was the only illumination in the room. He could still smell her scent, something light and floral.

  Now what? Did he want something more? No came back, but not as quick as it used to. He loved her body, the things they could do together. He liked watching her on the track, skating, focused, and tough. She was funny, and he enjoyed being around her. Beyond skating, though, and that tiny bit he learned early on about her work and her brother, he didn’t really know that much about her. He still didn’t have a number to call her. He’d wanted it that way. Remember?

  She had started to linger in his mind after she’d left and that was the new addition. She always had lingered, but it had been mostly centered around the things they did for each other in his bed. Couldn’t remember when it had changed. But lately he’d found himself smiling about something she’d told him, in that no-nonsense way of hers. It was a little frightening. She was so not what he was used to.

  Hell, he had just gotten past Jamie, although that had been easier than it should have been. Now he wondered now if he even loved her, or just loved the idea of what he thought she represented to him. He rubbed his hand over his face, worried about his new feelings, ones he wasn’t sure he could trust. He’d better get some sleep. Work would be here before he knew it. He lay awake staring into the night for another thirty m
inutes or so, before his mind relaxed enough to sleep.

  * * *

  Friday night found Mariah back at work at her brother’s place. She’d decided that the nights that had been used for Adam and their sex-a-thons would now be spent here, working. She’d given Joshua the night off. He was pleased and said he couldn’t remember his last Friday night off.

  It was ten minutes until closing when she looked up to find her buddy Casper sauntering through the door.

  “If your want something to eat, let me know,” she said, picking up a menu and bringing it to Casper who was heading to an empty table. “Jacob’s closed the kitchen, but I could stick something in the microwave for you.”

  “Nope, I’m just checking in. Grey Bolt has turned into the co-captain from hell in her effort to make sure we win our final bout and receive another crack at the Divas,” Casper said, looking over the menu anyway. “I’m tired and sore,” she added. “Can I get some water, since I’ve been sworn off soda and beer until this season is over.”

  “Sure,” Mariah said, grabbed a bottle of water and plopped it down on the table when she returned.

  “So where’s Joshua?” Casper asked, scanning the room.

  “Gone home early. I spent the evening here, working.”

  “Is he missing a waitress?”

  “Nope, I just had some extra time and thought to help him out without his badgering me. Plus he could use some time off.”

  “That’s Mariah, always looking out for her big brother.”

  “Don’t start, Casper,” she said, weary all of a sudden.

  “So how’s it going with the Junior Dentist?” Casper asked.

  “We’re done,” Mariah said, looking around the restaurant. One couple remained. Sasha had cleared all the tables except that one.

  “Give me a minute. I’m going to tell Sasha she can leave early and that I can finish up,” she said as she walked to the back. Five minutes later she returned with her own bottle of water, locked the front door, and took a seat opposite Casper at her table.

  “I told you he didn’t show up last week, right?” Mariah said.

  “Yes.”

  “He stopped by Tuesday and I went home with him and we were back to the normal routine, right? We didn’t talk much at first, but later, he received a text. Remember the girl he brought to the first game?”

  Casper nodded.

  “Well, it seems he took her out last week, the week he didn’t stop by practice. So after we’d just finished, you know…” she said, looking at Casper, who shook her head in silent understanding, “…he gets this text, from her, which he reads with me at his shoulder. He wanted me to read it, of course. He was completely honest and told me he had taken her out, that we were sex, reminding me that’s what I’d agreed to. So I left. No dramatics, no you’re an asshole, because you know what? He offered exactly what he said he would, and while that had been okay before, it wasn’t okay now.”

  “What if he comes by practice?”

  “I don’t think he will. I’m not that important to him. I mean why did he show me that text if he didn’t want me to know my place in his life? As if I didn’t. No, don’t say anything,” she said, putting her hand up to forestall any of Casper’s impending comments. “I was a party to it, too. I get that. Let me take care of that last table and I’ll be right back.” She met the couple at the counter, rang them up, and let them out the front door before locking it behind them.

  “But if he does stop by, I won’t be there. Brass Knuckles is out of it and the season is over for us. We were actually out three games ago,” she said and laughed, picking up the basket to clear off the table. “So I’m skipping practice for a while, in case he does show. Plus I don’t want to be staring at the door, hoping he’ll walk in. Hell, he is probably grateful and probably had been looking for an end to it all. He was just waiting for me to do it.” She stood to take her tub of dishes to the back. Casper stood up to follow her.

  “He might surprise you,” Casper said.

  “Whatever.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Fourth week in June

  On Thursday of the following week Adam found himself at the Rail Yard, hoping to see Mariah tonight, to apologize for the other night. He was still irritated with himself, and with her for wanting to change the rules of the game. He didn’t want changes, he liked it just the way it was, but he was coming to the conclusion that he might—just might—be willing to make an adjustment or two, if that was what it would take to keep her in his bed. He wasn’t ready to stop, nowhere near ready, if he was being honest.

  On Tuesday he thought he’d let it go, and stayed away from practice, but by Wednesday afternoon he realized that it would be stupid to end things. They were great together, and would it hurt him to see her more? No had been his answer.

  So he parked and looked around the parking lot. He didn’t see her Bug. He was surprised, but headed into the building anyway. He wished he’d gotten her number; he could have, would have called. He could still retrieve her number from his file. Nope. He would not, however tempting. He strolled in, casually and spotted some of her teammates. There were not as many as were normally present, and no Mariah. He checked his watch. She should be here by now.

  One of her friends rolled over to him. He remembered her name, had met her before, the night at Pinky’s.

  “Mariah’s not here,” she said.

  “Lisa,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said and smiled.

  “Mariah’s not here, and I haven’t heard from her,” she said.

  “Do you have her number?” he asked.

  “You don’t?” she asked, surprised.

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  He couldn’t think of any explanation for its absence that didn’t put him in a bad or odd light, so he kept quiet.

  “Sorry, I can’t give it to you then. It wouldn’t be right, since she hasn’t given it to you personally. You understand,” she said.

  “Sure, no problem. Just tell her I stopped by if you see her,” he said. He turned around walked back out and into the night.

  Maybe she’d show up at his apartment. Right; that was highly unlikely, given Mariah. How long had it taken to get her there the first time? He sat on his couch until late into the night. She didn’t stop by. And really, what had he been thinking? How had showing her that text been useful?

  She surprised him the other night by the way in which she handled his small rejection. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been small. She hadn’t gotten angry, or if she had she’d done a magnificent job of hiding it. She hadn’t thrown a tantrum, no pleading, no begging, no tears, all which had been tools in Jamie’s arsenal. Nope, just she just decided I want something else and you’re not it. He smiled at that and at Mariah, doing things her way, the unexpected way.

  There was also the next bout, if all else failed. Maybe he could talk to her there. The Divas were playing the Prissy Missies. It should be an easy victory for the Divas. If they won, they would be the league champions.

  * * *

  Saturday morning found Adam at his parents, helping his dad dig up the backyard. His pop’s lifelong dream of building a putting green in the backyard was close to being realized. They had finished digging out an area about a quarter of the size of the yard for it. His mother had agreed, finally.

  “Going to the derby tonight?” his dad asked.

  “I am.”

  “Good. How’s it going with Mariah?”

  “How’s what going with Mariah?”

  “You know. Don’t play dumb. You’ve been seeing her. She’s a nice girl, you could do worse. Oh, you have,” he said, laughing. It took him a minute to stop.

  “Most fathers would give their sons sympathy and compassion,” Adam said. His dad brushed that comment aside with his hand.

  “I’ve seen you at the bouts, when you’re not hiding, talking to her, watching her. She’s a nice girl, a beautiful woman in her own way.”

  “I don�
�t hide,” he said.

  “Sure you don’t. So, anyway, how’s it going with Mariah?” his dad asked again.

  “Good.”

  “So you are seeing her?”

  “Sometimes,” he said.

  His dad stopped and looked at him. “What happened?” he asked.

  “Not discussing my love life with you, Pops.”

  “Love, is it?”

  “It’s not. What’s next?” Adam asked, glancing around the backyard. His dad stood and watched him for a while, and didn’t say anything for a good two minutes.

  “Is she the reason you’ve got something stuck up your butt this morning?”

  “Do you need my help or not?” Adam Jr. said, pointing to the yard.

  “We’re done. That’s all that I’m doing today, anyway,” he said, smiling at his son’s irritation.

  “I’m going home, then. I’ll see you later,” Adam said, turning and walking out the backyard.

  “See you at the bout,” he shouted to Adam as he watched him leave, smiling.

  * * *

  Last Saturday in June

  Demented Diva’s vs. Prissy Missies

  Adam parked near the front, decided to get here early, maybe even sit with his pops. What would be the point in pretending he hadn’t been seeing Mariah now? Hell, maybe she would stop and say hello to his father and he would have a chance to talk to her.

  He handed his ticket over to someone—not Mariah—and went in search of her. She wasn’t at the concession stand or handing out programs. She was not anywhere that he could see. He recognized some of her teammates. Of course, none offered up much by way of encouragement, unless you counted that scowl from Sally as she stood next to the beer guy at the concession stand when he’d picked up his beer.

  He spotted his dad sitting next to his sister and took the empty seat next to Yvette. She looked up in surprise while his father just gave him a smirk.

  “I didn’t know you liked the derby,” Yvette shouted into his ear, trying to be heard over the band and the approaching train, which was blowing its whistle, alerting the arena to its impending arrival.