by PE Kavanagh
“Yes, yes. I…” He put his glass down and turned to face her. More deliberately, he said, “I want to do that again.”
“The toast?”
“No. This.” He ran his hands through her hair to the back of her neck and brought the heat and pressure of his mouth down onto eager lips. His tongue stroked the inside of her mouth and she drew him further in. Her hand found his thigh and squeezed. A few inches and she could feel him. She wanted to feel him.
He broke away. She did not move her hand. “Lola,” he said in a breath that went from his mouth to hers.
Now, I want to do it again. In fact, she wanted to skip dinner altogether and do much, much more. Neither of them moved, eyes locked on each other’s mouths.
He brushed his thumb over her lips and then licked his own. He smiled. She smiled. They both began to laugh.
He brought his hands down on the table in front of him. “May I serve you?”
“Yes, thanks.”
* * *
They spoke very little during dinner. Lola replayed the two kisses enjoyed just moments before and hoped Aidan was doing the same, although the look on his face seemed more concern than delight.
They moved to the living room for dessert, where Lola curled herself up in one corner of the oversized couch, her legs tucked underneath her and her arm draped over the back. Aidan sat in the opening she had created, but not close enough to touch her.
“That delivery boy did well. That was amazing. I'm stuffed.”
“Thanks. I love a woman who actually eats. I’ll cook for you anytime.”
She tipped her head back, intending to close her eyes, but realized the patch of ceiling just above them was glass. “Oh my gosh. That’s the sky.”
“Yes, it is. Sometimes the moon passes right over. It’s super cool.” He got up abruptly, then turned back to her. “Wait right here.”
Where else would I go?
He searched for something in the wooden bowl on the sidetable, then began pointing a remote throughout the room, turning off lights. She exhaled in anticipation.
The room was dark except for the faint light from the kitchen and the night sky above. She extended her legs in front of her and lay all the way back for a complete view. He slid his arm under her head and lay beside her, so close that the warmth of his body permeated hers.
Lola focused on the stars despite wanting to turn to him, wanting to continue what they had started earlier. Her breath fluttered out.
“I spend a lot of time doing this.” His voice was raspy.
“I would too. It’s beautiful. Like a framed slice of infinity.”
“Now look who’s the poet.”
“Not me. So, what do you see, out there?”
“Nothing. And everything. It’s perspective. It reminds me of how small and insignificant most things are. And how endless we are. I like to imagine myself part of the system that made stars and galaxies and things so far away, we may never even know their existence. It makes all life’s stupid stuff just dissolve.”
She shifted her body toward him so that she could snuggle into his side. When she put her hand on his chest, he took it, brought it to his mouth, and left it there for a moment before kissing it and laying it back on his chest. From his warm mouth to his warm body, it was all delicious.
Feeling emboldened, she turned to him and asked, “How come you’re not married?”
He smiled. “Right to the point, then?”
“Why not?”
“Yes. Well, I was engaged. A while ago. We made big plans. And then I couldn’t hold up the weight of my life anymore. But she really liked that life. The whole integrity, soul-searching thing did not work for her. She left.”
She stroked his chest. “Wow. That sucks.”
“Yeah, it was pretty bad. The worst part of it was how duped I felt. I mean I thought this woman loved me. Turns out she loved what I could do for her.”
“I get that.” If only he knew how much.
“And you?”
“Also a member of the dumped fiancée club. It’s been two years or so.”
“What happened?”
“Poor choice-making on my part. And lots of lying and cheating on his part. You know, that kind of stuff.” She played with the seam of his shirt.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Lola.”
“The most painful part was how I betrayed myself. I knew he was lying. I knew about the other women, about him having this secret life, but I stayed. I guess I thought my love would be so immense and powerful that it would burn all the bad stuff away. Instead I just cooked myself into a charred, crispy ball. It took me too long to finally end it.”
“It sounds like you did the dumping.”
“Officially, yes. But he had left me long before. And it brings the validity of the whole relationship into question. If the whole thing was built on a lie, was it ever really anything?” Her fingertips skimmed the top edge of his jeans.
He sat up. “Would you like something to drink?”
She pulled her hand away, suddenly self-conscious of where it had been. “Water would be great.”
When he returned with their glasses, he sat back down on another part of the sectional, a few feet away from her. She straightened up, no longer comfortable being reclined.
They sipped their water silently. She flitted her eyes to him, but he stared stared straight ahead, the line around his jaw sharpened.
Abruptly, as if there hadn’t been a pause in the conversation, he started. “I think it’s really hard to know. I mean, in retrospect, we can see the big mistakes, but at the time, it’s harder. I don’t think you can ever fault yourself for things in the past. If you knew better, you would have done better.”
“Your gray area is a lot wider than mine. I do think we know when something isn’t right and it’s an act of integrity to do something about it. Right and wrong are usually much less ambiguous than we think.” Her tone was full of reprimand.
His expression hardened. “I rarely see anything that’s black or white. And creating those definitions tends not to bring out the best of people. So much time spent on judging and blaming…”
“To me, being clear about your expectations and your moral position brings clarity. It’s easier for me to make decisions and move forward when I know where the lines are. I know that I would never allow what happened to me with my ex to happen again. There’s a hard line keeping me from bringing harm into my life.” She interlaced her fingers in her lap.
“Don’t you think that limits your interactions? And who you interact with?”
“Definitely the latter. I don’t want that level of dishonesty in my life. Anywhere. But I think my holding people, and myself, to a higher standard actually creates deeper relationships. It might mean I don’t let that many people in, but it feels safer that way.”
He nodded without speaking.
“How about you? How have you gotten back into dating and relationships after your breakup?” Lola took a sip of water, wanting to wash down the sour taste in her mouth from a growing sense of defensiveness.
“To be honest, I’ve mostly opted out.”
“You mean other than picking up random women in coffee shops.” She meant it to be funny, but it didn’t come out that way.
“Yes, other than that.”
“I don’t believe you. A man like you is hardly without a woman on his arm. Are you saying that you just keep things casual, then?”
She watched for a reaction to her provocative statement, but got none. He was inscrutable. “I don’t have a rule, Lola. Or a line. I meet people, we go out sometimes. I don’t find most people interesting enough to…”
Her displeasure at his words brought a frown to her face. He noticed and looked down.
“Wait, that’s not what I meant to say. I think people are extremely interesting. From afar. I like to keep my life simple, while I figure the big things out. But there’s nothing stopping me from building something with the right person.” He di
d not look up at her, although she waited for him to.
“I think I understand.”
He leaned forward. “Look, Lola, you’ve been a big surprise for me. I’m having a great time. I hope you are too. Let’s start with that.”
She clenched her jaw at the slight. Looking up to find the stars again, Lola tried to gain some of the perspective he claimed was available from that view.
“I hope that didn’t sound strange. I'm not communicating well. I'm a little off-balance with you.”
She turned her head to look at him, testing her gut for honesty. “We don’t have to talk about this anymore. I mean, it’s pretty deep for where we are.”
“I’m not afraid of deep. I like it. Even when I'm clumsy.” He slid closer to her but did not try to touch her.
She pushed herself to the edge of the couch and stood up. “Well, it’s getting late. I think I should go.”
He pressed his lips together. “I understand. I’ll walk you home.”
“No, no, no. That’s not necessary. I'm okay.”
“I’d like to walk you home. Is that alright? Or I can call a car.”
“No, walking is fine.”
“You can always stay. If you like.”
A spectrum of emotions passed through her - shock, desire, frustration, discomfort - as she tried to stay cool.
“Then I can walk you home in the morning.” He smiled.
“I think going home tonight will be fine. Thank you for the offer though.” She smiled back, grateful that the tension was breaking.
Lola got up to get her coat, and he took it from her, then held it up so she could put it on. He turned her around and held her arms.
“I find you intriguing. It doesn’t happen often for me.”
She turned her head and stepped back, wanting to still the quiver at the top of her chest. “Thank you for dinner. It was amazing.” She didn’t want to talk about their feelings anymore. It wasn’t going anywhere other than deeper and deeper discomfort.
“My pleasure. You are invited over anytime. For food, or stargazing, or profoundly circular and unsolvable topics.”
When her mouth softened into a small curve, he moved toward her again. But she continued to dodge him, walking toward the elevator.
He pulled on a jacket.
“You really don’t have to do this,” she said. "I'm fine to get home."
“I know you’re fine, Lola. But please let me do this anyway.”
The door opened and they stepped in.
Tension and uncertainty accompanied them on the walk. They arrived in front of her building in just a few minutes.
“Thanks for being my bodyguard. We’re here.” She wished it hadn’t sounded so sarcastic.
“Can I see you this weekend?”
It was a harder choice than she imagined. “Depends.”
“Depends?”
“On what you’re offering,” she said in an attempt at humor to break the tension.
He grinned. “I have an idea.”
6
Apples and Abstinence
I AM STRADDLED on top of him, grinding, his fingers digging into the flesh around my hips. Everything from my belly to my thighs contracts with each stroke of my body against his. His hands move up to knead my breasts and I lean forward to let him suck on one of the nipples he has awakened. He grazes it with his teeth, sending sparks across my skin. I am open and wet and ready for the feel of him filling me, stretching me. I lift my hips to bring the head of his cock against my opening.
But I can't find him.
My hand sweeps downward, between my legs, to clasp his erection, but it’s gone. I sit up and slide off his hips. There’s nothing there, just like a Ken doll. Not even a patch of dark hair. I push his legs apart and search, as a wicked laugh bursts from his contorted face.
* * *
Lola’s alarm went off at 6am on Sunday morning, and she had no idea what was happening. The evil laughter had morphed into the electronic whine of her alarm and her hands grabbed at the bunched sheets between her legs. It took several moments for her to reach over and silence her beeping phone, and for the reality of the day to return. It was morning, and she had plans with Aidan.
She hadn’t seen his face in her dream, but she knew it was him, which left her feeling as scattered as her tumbled bedding. She had to admit she was scared, which made no logical sense. He hadn’t done a damn thing to earn her suspicion, and yet, it was definitely there. He made her heart leap, her body warm, and her belly tingle. She trusted her intuition about people, and her ability to know things, but he was indecipherable. Something was wrong; she was certain. But how wrong was it? And what the heck was that dream supposed to mean?
She pushed the vision of his missing genitalia out of her mind and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Dwelling on the nightmare and her pressing anxiety wasn’t getting her anywhere. Time to shake it off and spring into action. She and Aidan were heading upstate, apple picking. A brisk fall day in the country would be their first excursion. He had insisted they leave first thing in the morning. “All the good apples are gone by noon,” he’d told her, a rare appearance of his competitive side.
Lola lingered under the warm spray of the shower, talking to herself, until the pads of her fingers puckered. She needed a strategy, a plan. There was too much to navigate without one. Going in blind and aimless made it difficult to maintain boundaries. That particular lesson had appeared many times in her life and she would not allow it to overtake her again. If only she could get a grip on her feelings before all that uncertainty crystallized into more bad choices. Maybe her lack of recent practice had left her rusty. Maybe she’d forgotten what it was like to begin a relationship. Maybe she was losing her mind.
His text arrived at 7am, sharp, just as she changed her mind about which scarf to wear. Red would go best with the apples. She headed downstairs to find his dark grey Range Rover parked in the loading zone in front of her building. He leaned against the passenger side, legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets, smiling broadly.
Without a word, he opened the door for her. When he took his own seat, she noticed the nubbly brick red sweater that exactly matched her scarf. He looked even more handsome than she remembered, a bit more scruffy and less polished. He had gone from Vanity Fair to Country Living without any decrease in sex appeal.
“Good morning, Aidan.” She met him over the cupholders for a brief touch of the lips.
“Yes, it is.” He kissed her again, lingering long enough that she, just for a second, lost track of everything. “Good morning to you, Lola. How do you manage to make 7am on a Sunday so damn beautiful?”
Lola ignored his question and stroked her fingertips along the dashboard. “Nice car.”
He pulled away from the curb and into the eerily empty street. This was the perfect time to be driving in Manhattan. “Thanks.”
She turned to see his bashful smile.
“It mostly just sits in the garage. So I appreciate your giving me a chance to let it out.”
Lola chuckled as she ran her fingers over the three large control knobs without disturbing any of their positions. “I’d happily drive this around for you, whenever you want.”
“You would? I’ll keep that in mind.” He was already smiling too much for her to handle. “This coffee is yours, by the way,” he said pointing to the larger cup.
“Wow, thanks. Sweet of you to pick some up.”
“My pleasure. There are some pastries in the back, as well. From Bella. They are ridiculous, and normally I wouldn’t be stuffing my face full of such decadence this early, but I’m trying to prepare my body for the immense number of cider donuts that are about to enter.”
She loved his sense of humor. So smart, occasionally self-deprecating, silly. “What’s the point of apple picking if there aren’t donuts involved?”
“A girl after my own heart.” His eyes flitted toward her, then moved back to the road. “I still can’t believe you’re coming upstate with
me. I only had to grovel a little bit.”
She hadn’t made him grovel at all, actually. Even after the awkward ending of their last date. She desperately wanted something more pleasant to allay her discomfort. She wanted to unleash her attraction to him, without miring it in her overly suspicious nature. The first sip of coffee gave her the perfect dose of liquid courage. “I’m all in. And you didn’t even have to ply me with pre-donut pastries.”
“I would do whatever it took.”
Lola counted to ten, hoping she would appear unfazed by the statement that had actually felt like a tiny jolt of electricity. She kept her gaze straight out the window.
As they crossed the Tappan Zee bridge, leaving Manhattan, the world outside transformed from glass and metal to a spectrum of ruby and gold. Autumn had painted the lush green trees like jewels. Lola considered pulling out her phone to take a picture, but decided to enjoy the sights instead. “It’s amazing how beautiful it is, right on the edges of the city. I could look at these views forever.”
Aidan moved one hand from the wheel to the center console, inches from her leg. “Do you ever think about leaving the city?”
She stared down at his hand, wondering why it wasn’t somewhere on her body. “Yes. I miss the ocean. The Pacific Ocean. It feels different to me. Maybe because I grew up there. I feel connected to that body of water much more than the Atlantic.”
“Do you surf?”
“I have. But I’m not any good. Allegedly, my grandparents met when my grandfather was surfing and my grandmother just appeared on the beach.”
“In Hawaii, right?”
“Good memory.” Remembering the little details gained a lot of points in Lola’s book. “But my uncle died surfing. It’s a bittersweet thing, I guess.”
“Sorry to hear that.” He finally moved his hand over to hers and gave it a squeeze.
“It’s okay. I hardly knew him. But my Mom, her sisters, and my grandparents were devastated. He was the only boy in the family. And apparently the coolest guy ever.”
“Tell me about the rest of your family, Lola.”