She shakes her head, looking out the window, then turns to face me again. “Was Montana Reed an arrangement too?”
She’s Googled me. That’s not surprising, but it is somewhat disappointing.
“My roommate Googled you and told me you dated a supermodel last year. What kind of term sheet did you have with her? I’m assuming it was a similar kind of arrangement.” She lifts her chin, defiantly.
I smirk. “Why would you assume that?”
“Because I’ve met you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Have you met Montana?”
“The state or the model?”
“I happen to know that you’ve never been to Montana the state.”
“Yeah I haven’t met either of them. But she looks…nice.”
“She was. Is. Nice. But our conversations weren’t stimulating, so I ended it.”
She scoffs. “You ended it with her?”
I shift around in the seat. I hadn’t thought of Montana in a while. It makes me uncomfortable. “Yes. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. She was…more hung up on me than I’d realized.”
“Right. I’m sure.”
I shrug. “It makes no difference to me if you believe me or not.”
“Wait—if you had an arrangement with her you wouldn’t tell me anyway, right? Because of the non-disclosure agreement.”
“If we had a non-disclosure agreement I wouldn’t be telling you she was hung-up on me.”
“Oh. Well what are you going to say when we ‘break up?’”
I look down. That’s not a question I’m willing to answer. I scratch my cheek stubble and ask: “Are you still hungry? You didn’t eat much at the restaurant.”
She looks at me like I just asked her if she’s crazy. I’m quite sure I didn’t. “Answer my question.”
“How about I answer it after you’ve eaten? You’ve always been exceedingly short-tempered when you’re hungry.”
“I’m not short tempered!” she snaps.
I smile. “My mistake.” There’s that scowl that I love.
She laughs and punches my arm. “I am hungry. Damn you.”
“You should be able to find something at the house. I gave Gracia a list of your favorite breakfast and snack food items.”
She cocks her head to one side. “Oh yeah, like what?”
“All of your smoothie ingredients, for smoothies both protein and green, brown organic free-run eggs, organic turkey bacon, gluten-free waffles, gluten-free high fiber muffins, organic dark maple syrup, organic almonds, organic almond milk, organic gluten-free pumpkin and flax cereal, organic French roast coffee, Irish butter, sprouted organic grain bread, Red Vines, Green & Black milk chocolate with almonds and white chocolate, organic powdered cacao, turmeric powder, cinnamon and raw honey for your weird yellow warm nut milk drink…organic mint chocolate chip ice cream, organic plain kettle chips…Did I forget anything?” When I look over at her, she appears to be dumbfounded and it feels very satisfying.
She clears her throat. “What kind of cinnamon?”
“Ceylon. Both powder and stick form.”
She blinks her eyes once, then looks down at her hands. “I sound like such a pig.”
“With exquisite taste. I’m sure you won’t eat all of it at once.”
I feel my phone vibrate and have to sit on my hands to refrain from checking it.
“I can’t believe you remember all that.”
“It’s just a shopping list.”
“I remember you like my Mom’s zucchini banana bread. Or at least you said you did.”
That makes me smile. It’s not a list, but it’s enough.
She reaches for my arm and pulls the hand that’s closest to her out from under my bottom. She brings it to her lap and holds it tentatively between her hands, like a small domesticated animal that might bite her.
“Do you remember the time I sprinkled Cayenne Pepper on your Red Vines?”
I laugh. “I remember everything you ever said and did around me, Olivia.”
She looks up at me. “You mean you remember everything everyone ever says and does?”
“No. I have a selective memory. I try not to retain any information I don’t need.”
Her eyelashes flutter. Her hands close in on mine a little tighter. She is flattered by this statement, but I can see that she is about to challenge me anyway. And that is why I like her. “Aren’t you worried you aren’t creating as many new neural pathways as you could if you don’t try to learn new things?”
I drag my free index finger from the V that forms between her own thumb and index finger, all the way up her arm to her shoulder, across her collarbone. “I’d rather form neural pathways learning new things about you.”
She shivers and catches her breath. I’ve said the right thing, the thing she didn’t expect. She grabs that hand with both of hers and draws it down, over her heart. I can feel it beating. She’s looking at me with an expression of mild astonishment and seduction. She starts to push my hand, slowly, further under the scoop neck of her dress.
I glance over at the rearview mirror and catch Richard’s bulging eyes reflected in it, before they shift back to the road ahead.
I lean in and whisper in her ear: “Have I done my fifteen percent for the day yet?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes my hand away. I ruined the moment. She expected me to. I did it on purpose. I’m not going to have sex with her in the back of my car while Richard is driving. He’d crash the car and the night would be ruined. I have loftier goals for our first time together, so it’s worth sacrificing the moment.
I put my hand back in her lap. “I like your hands.”
She puts her hands over mine, keeping it in place, under control.
“Just to be clear,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I am open to the full-on girlfriend experience while we’re together. If you know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean, thank you for being clear.” Booyah. “All in good time.”
I don’t even think about checking my phone for the rest of the drive home.
The neighborhood I bought my house in isn’t considered fancy, but it’s very nice and a highly sought-after location. Olivia has been looking out the window with more curiosity than anxiety, since we started in on the side streets. I watch her face as Richard slows down in the cul de sac and signals before turning into the driveway.
I love my house, but I made a decision to be as frugal as possible after the first round of funding for Brainy Biz. I’d seen so many of my colleagues blow their wad right out of the gate, burning out in the lifespan of a firefly. I only own one home, in Palo Alto, and I stay in hotels everywhere else. I don’t buy or rent a private jet for domestic or long-distance travel, and I only own one car which I use when Richard isn’t driving me, as long as I don’t have any calls scheduled. I spent three million on my house, and it is worth every penny, if only because of how impressed and relieved Olivia looks when she realizes where she’ll be spending the night tonight.
It’s a four bedroom mid-century modern bungalow, with clean lines, and a lot of windows at the rear of the house. The front face of the house is charcoal grey with a lemon yellow door, private, with excellent landscaping and good night lighting. It’s very tasteful and I’m proud of it, but more importantly, I feel good here, and I had a feeling that Olivia would feel good here too.
I squeeze her hand before unbuckling my seatbelt. Richard opens the door for her, and she steps out into the quiet night sighing.
“I like the yellow door.”
“It’s an Eichler,” I say, as we step into the living room.
She looks up at the high arched beam and decking ceiling, her mouth open slightly.
“He’s a famous architect.”
“I know who Joseph Eichler is,” she says, not quite snapping at me. A verbal slap of the wrist.
This is pleasing to me. “You do? I thought you only cared about dance and dance-related art forms.”
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She smiles and shakes her head as she reaches out to touch the orchids on the coffee table. They’re real. “I’m not that boring. I do have a Pinterest board called ‘Dream Homes,’ and most of the images are of Eichler houses.”
“Oh. Well, welcome to your dream home.”
“It’s funny, I never really pictured you in it.”
“In an Eichler?”
“No, in my dream home.”
“Well, like I said, I’m afraid you just haven’t been aiming high enough.”
She doesn’t smile like I thought she would, but she doesn’t scowl either. I’ll take it. “I can see why you thought my place is such a dump.”
“I didn’t say it was a dump, it’s very charming. I’ll show you the guest room, and then you can check out the kitchen.” I hold up her overnight bag and gesture for her to follow me. She is happy, I know, because she does a leap across the floor.
“I love the open space.”
“Good. I had a ballet barre set up in the exercise room.”
She stops in her tracks. “You did? Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
She skips over to me and puts her hand on my back, leaning into me. “What else did you set up for me?”
I grin and wink at her. “You’ll see.” I can’t wait for her to find out.
I look at my watch when I hear her shrieking. It’s after midnight and I’m at the desk in my bedroom, wearing pajama bottoms, working on my laptop. She must have just gotten into bed and found the rubber snakes I put between the sheets. I pretend to focus on my work when I hear her running down the hall in my direction, swearing like a marine.
She strides through the open door. “You massive turd! I almost had a heart attack!”
I keep my eyes on my laptop but I can’t hide my smile. “Which is what I kept telling you every time you did it to me.”
She pummels me with her fists—not hard. She’s laughing, but there’s real anger there. Or maybe it’s just adrenaline. “Don’t ignore me, you fucker!” She shoves me.
I stand up, grab her by the waist and toss her onto my bed. She is so adept at flying through the air, she lands on the mattress gracefully, her hair magnificently tousled. She lifts her torso up, her eyes hooded, staring at my mouth. I push her shoulders back down and hover inches above her, just watching her. She lifts her head up to kiss me, but I pull back, teasing her. Her eyes flash with excitement. She likes to be teased. I thought so. She does it again. I push her down harder, staring at her quivering lips.
She is up for a fight, but I lower down and disarm her by kissing her softly, slowly. My tongue is unhurried, but knows where it’s heading. Her body tenses up even as her lips respond to mine. She is moaning quietly already and I’m already hard.
Suddenly, when I lower myself down to kiss her neck, she manages to flip me over and straddle me. She holds down my wrists, and I get a full view of her breasts through the gaping low neck of her sleep shirt. Her nipples are erect and pinker than I thought they would be, and I hold my breath because I want everything all at once, but I also want to experience each part of her slowly, with the awe and attention that every single part of her deserves. I manage to tear my eyes away from the perfect tits that are hanging in front of me, to meet hers. They are full of want and dare.
She sticks out her tongue and slowly lowers down to lick along my neck, suck on my earlobe, as she squeezes her thighs together around my erection.
I let loose a groan. So many years, I’ve wondered what those thighs are capable of.
She looks like a fairy goddess, but she kisses my mouth like a starving feral woman. I keep my eyes open, trying to watch her. She is hotter and more sensuous than my limited brain could ever allow me to imagine, and I want to remember every second of this.
But this isn’t the right time.
This isn’t supposed to happen tonight.
She sucks on my tongue, rocking her hips back and forth, and I know I have to put an end to this now, because I’m waiting for an important call.
“Olivia,” I say, as soon as my tongue is free.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” she whispers, grinding down on me.
“I can’t do this now,” I say, or at least I think I say it out loud, but she doesn’t seem to hear me.
She reaches for my crotch, and that’s when I flip her over again and hold her down by her wrists. She thinks this is still part of the game, but I don’t have time to play it anymore.
My phone vibrates on the desk.
“I have to take that call,” I say, like I’m talking to a child, although that’s not how I meant for it to come out.
“You’re joking.”
I get up off of her, steadying myself at the edge of the bed, before stepping over to pick up my phone, and clearing my throat so that I don’t sound like I have a boner.
“Hello Mr. Chen,” I say into the phone. I pick up my laptop with my free hand and walk out of the room, down the hall to my home office.
She doesn’t follow or yell out after me, and I don’t have time to apologize for leaving her because Theodore Chen is even busier than I am.
I’m not sure how much time has passed since I’ve been in my office, talking to Mr. Chen while looking at my notes on my laptop. I look up at the window and see the reflection of a woman standing in the doorway behind me. I catch my breath. I had forgotten Olivia was here.
From the look on her face, I can surmise that she assumed I was going to return to my bedroom to continue what we had started.
I mouth to her: “China.” I tap at my watch. “Long call.”
She scowls at me and disappears.
I hear the guest room door shut. She doesn’t slam it, but she made sure that I could hear it closing. I won’t be joining her when I’m off the phone, because I’ll have to compose an email after this.
I hear her hurling the rubber snakes against the wall.
She’ll feel better in the morning. She always does.
9
John
TEN YEARS AGO
We dominated this city-wide mathletes tournament. We owned it. Not a big surprise, but satisfying nonetheless.
All the other guys on the team are trying to hit on the token girl, Marcy. She’s always touching my arm and laughing really loudly whenever I say anything. Like, anything. When I said, “Does anyone here have a pen that actually works?” she was in hysterics. I really needed a pen. How is that funny?
Monty’s sister is here with their parents. It looks like she’s got ballet after this. Her hair is up in a bun and she looks more impatient than usual. Most girls in the audience would have been staring at their phones, but she was practicing her arm and foot positions, or whatever they’re called.
It’s funny. She’s so delicate but she always looks so tense. She’d be pretty if she didn’t always have that scowl on her face. Although, I can’t assume that she’s scowling all the time. She certainly is when I’m around. Lucky for her I have always found it adorable.
She notices me watching her and rolls her eyes. I can’t think of one time in the past decade that she’s ever made eye contact with me and not rolled her eyes. I think…I’m going to miss her when I go to MIT. Is that right? Yes. I will. I have missed her already. She’s usually at her friend’s house now when I’m at Monty’s, since she turned thirteen and they started letting her go to sleepovers, so I don’t see her much anymore. It’s too bad we were never in high school together. I would have found it very entertaining, thinking up different ways to annoy her in public places.
She has always been like a little sister to me.
Is that true?
No.
Maybe a cousin.
Mr. Montgomery keeps looking at his watch. They’re coming over. I’ll have to lie about my parents.
“Mr. Brandt! Congratulations.”
“Mr. Montgomery. Thank you for your support.”
“It was fun!”
A snort from Tiny Dancer.
&nb
sp; “It was. I just wish I understood more of what you kids were talking about up there.”
“Well, not many people do, sir. Don’t feel bad.”
Another exaggerated eye roll from Olivia.
“Hey there, Tiny Dancer.”
“Hey there, Nerdballs.”
“Olivia.”
Her whole body always tenses up when her father says her name like that. It’s interesting.
“Ohhhh, there he is—the genius!”
“Hello, Mrs. Montgomery.”
Mrs. Montgomery is a good hugger. The best. “I was hoping to see your Mom and Dad here.” She feels sorry for me.
“Yes, they asked me to say ‘hi’ to you. They’re on a business trip. They’ll be back late tonight.”
“Oh, well you must come have dinner with us tonight.”
“I’d love to, but I think the team’s going out to celebrate.”
“Oh that’s right. Nathan said. I forgot. You come stay with us afterwards if you’d like. I’ll text your mother if you do.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
“I made your favorite zucchini and banana bread. I’ll leave some out for you.”
“I will save room for that, thank you.”
Olivia has been watching me. Studying me, her head tilted. She doesn’t leave when her parents go over to talk to Mr. McKewan.
“What?”
She shrugs. “You’re different with my Mom.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve always treated her the same way.”
“I mean you treat her differently from how you treat other people. You’re nicer to her.”
“I’m nice to everyone.”
“No. You’re not. You don’t try to be rude, you just don’t try hard enough not to be. But you do with my Mom. Try not to be rude, I mean.”
“I don’t think being rude is the same as being not nice.”
“It is. Why do you pretend to like her zucchini banana bread? Nobody likes it. Not even Mom. It’s literally where organic zucchini and bananas go to die.”
“What makes you think I don’t like it?”
“I see how your whole body tenses up before you take a bite. Even when you heard her mention it just now.”
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