by Dawn Lanuza
“Are you telling me I look pretty?”
Elan sputtered, “Sure.”
Caty beamed at him. “And the first thing you noticed about me is my hair? You missed my face or something?”
He smiled but looked away. “I don’t think it’s your turn to ask a question anymore.”
“Yeah, but we messed the whole thing up.”
“We should just stop playing the game then,” he said.
Caty pursed her lips. “No, let’s keep doing it. I wanna see how far you’ll go ’til you take a dare.”
Elan laughed. “Not happening.”
“Oh, don’t dare me.”
He shrugged.
“Stop shrugging.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s unattractive.”
“Shrugging is unattractive?”
“Not your turn,” she pointed out. “I’m gonna think about my next question for a while.”
“What about me?”
“You think about it too.” She took a bite of her chicken. “Make it interesting. Not about our daily lives.”
“So, existential?”
“Yeah, if that’s your thing.”
She started eating, so Elan did too. They were quiet as they ate. He thought about his question but was more worried about hers.
When they were done, they paid for their meals and walked back to the hotel. She kept giving him looks, as if gauging what he had come up with. The truth was he had nothing.
The elevator opened, and they got in, standing face to face, each in a corner.
“You ready?” she asked after the doors opened on their floor.
He stepped out of the elevator and followed. Caty stopped in front of the room, reached for the key card, and turned around, her back blocking the door. “Should I ask you now?”
Elan felt nervous. In the amount of time it took her to think of one question, he’d imagined a dozen stupid things she might ask. He nodded. “Yeah.”
Caty took a deep breath. “Would you like to come in?”
He thought she’d ask something more personal or poke fun at the state of his nose.
“That’s it? That was the question you’ve been holding out on me the whole time?”
“Can’t a girl eat in silence?”
He suppressed a smile. Elan dropped his hand, rocked back on his heels, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I mean, sure.”
“And no, that wasn’t the question. I’m just easing you into it.” She kept her hands on the door handle.
He licked his lips.
She finally took a step closer, raised a hand to his collar, and straightened the edge of it before she looked him in the eyes. “Elan. Kiss me.”
Elan swallowed. Caty let go of his collar and brushed her hands over his shirt. She leaned in close enough for him to feel her breath on his face. If he just inched closer . . .
“That’s not a question,” he pointed out.
She held her breath, he noticed, as her hand rested on his chest. She managed a smile. “Then how come you’re making me ask for it again?”
Please?
She wanted to say it out loud, but wouldn’t that sound a little desperate? She didn’t want to admit it, but in a way, she was desperate for company. That had been true for a while now. She was looking for companionship when she went to Otto’s, but instead she got chased by his much younger girlfriend. Fiancée. She really needed to get used to that. Obviously, Otto was never gonna leave Madeline, not when he let her chase away other girls.
I’m in my mid-twenties, I’m not having a midlife crisis, she reminded herself. I’m young. I’m still young.
She lingered, her body a mere inch away from his, the warmth already spreading on her skin.
“Yes.”
She was about to go to another place, obsessing about her looks and her age when Elan spoke. It made her jump. He grabbed her shoulders and backed her into the wooden door, her head hitting it with a dull thud.
“Oh, shit.” He fumbled, palming the back of her head and feeling for bumps.
“Ow.” She grimaced, putting a hand on her neck as well.
He seemed to understand that she really was hurt. “Sorry, I—”
“Was trying to knock me out?” Caty felt Elan’s fingers thread around her hair, feeling her head.
She closed her eyes, whimpering a little, and Elan inched closer. He started to rub her scalp, massaging her head softly.
“Is this even helping?”
Caty opened her eyes and met his, and she thought she saw something happen, like a click, a spark of life reignited.
She simply licked her lips and nodded.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” Elan said, his voice soft and low.
His fingers were still massaging her scalp, and she exhaled in relief. He was good at this—who knew? He had magical fingers.
Caty closed her eyes again, a small smile forming on her lips. Her shoulders loosened, responding to his touch. The back of her head no longer hurt much, and close to him, her body softened.
Elan’s fingers slid back down on her neck, then paused. “You okay now?”
Slowly, as if assessing herself, she nodded.
“I was trying to do it your way.”
She frowned. “My way?”
“You know, when you first kissed me, you kind of just grabbed me.”
“Yeah, but I pulled you in. You pushed me back.” She laughed.
He scratched his temple while his other hand rested on her neck. “I miscalculated.”
“Sure you’re not getting back at me for annoying you so much?”
He pulled his other hand away. “Would I even do this if I’m still annoyed at you?”
“Remorse is another thing.”
It looked as if he was about to tell her something serious, but he hesitated. He was shutting her out again, and she’d worked so hard to get him to open up.
She took his hand. “Tell me the truth, Elan.”
She felt as if she was groping in the dark to keep him like this. Close to her, open, willing.
“I think it’s my turn to ask you a question, actually.”
Oh, that’s right. The game. She’d almost forgotten about it. She already had him close to her, and that was the point of it, really. To make him feel comfortable around her. “You didn’t answer my question properly.”
“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt anymore?”
She nodded, but her hand held on to his, asking him to let it stay there. She had missed the sensation of having someone hold and caress her.
“Shame,” Elan inhaled. “Would’ve kissed it to make it better.”
She couldn’t help but smile. That was unexpected. Hoped for, but yes, unexpected. Really, she shouldn’t have underestimated Elan’s game so much. After all, she was trapped between a door and a man. She did want him, even when he was being a Judy. Maybe he’s got this all in the bag.
She pressed her lips together to stop herself from smiling so much.
Elan smiled back. She felt his thumb run along her nape again, which made her moan quietly. Caty bowed her head, partly embarrassed at the sound she’d made. But she felt him dip his head, his nose against the skin of her neck until, finally, his lips touched it. It was warm, fleeting at first, but he followed up quickly. He began planting soft kisses on her neck, not even where it hurt, but did it matter?
She reached up to the back of his head, caressing it as his kisses reached her jaw, her cheek. She gasped when he lowered his mouth to her neck, sucked on it for a second, before his lips parted.
Caty was still, waiting for the next step—a kiss, a graze, a freaking breath—Why, why did it stop?
He pulled away, straightened his back, and looked her in the eyes. She stared at him, her face probably asking the qu
estion she had been screaming inside: Why?
Just then the door of the next room opened, and a middle-aged man stepped out, quite surprised to see them in the hallway.
“Good afternoon,” Elan mumbled, reaching out for Caty’s hand and grabbing the key card.
Caty let him open the door, and they jumped quickly into the room to make the whole thing less humiliating.
She laughed as he closed the door. “Did he see?”
Elan tilted his head, grimacing, “Yeah, probably.”
Caty walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. She took off her shoes, aware that he was still standing right by the door, watching her. She saw the confusion and frustration in his face when their eyes met. The frustration she could help with, but the confusion?
“Do you want to go?” she asked, taking a gamble. There was a big chance he would say yes and bolt out of the place so fast she wouldn’t be able to find him ever again. She could still feel the sensation of his lips on her neck, the sliver of his tongue on her skin. Strangely, it made her feel brave enough to ask, as if that was protection against him saying no.
Elan put his hands on his hips, licked his lips, and looked up at the ceiling, as if the answers were all there.
She slid up the bed, lifted up the covers, and left the space next to her.
He looked at her, and his eyes told a different story now: less confusion, more like hunger, wanting—completely different from the looks he had given her all day.
Elan walked—no, sprinted—to the bed and pulled her up by her shoulders so she was on her knees. He stood right by the bed, holding her tightly as he looked her right in the eyes.
“Just stay, okay?” she asked, slowly reaching out to him.
He breathed out, and it released some of his tension. Quietly, he nodded.
She was the first to kiss him again.
Their first kiss hadn’t been like this. She’d been in control that time: she’d known what she had to do to keep him hooked. She’d known when to stop, to keep him wanting more. She stopped the kiss early to set the bait, leaving a zing of electricity lingering on her lips when she pulled away.
She knew he had felt it too. He had looked at her differently since that first kiss, as if she had something he needed. It was a complete one-eighty from how the day had started, when she had felt like the loser.
Caty might have kissed Elan first, but this time felt more like a collision. Her senses were deafened by the sound of her heartbeat, her whole body softened to every movement, and no one was pulling back. It seemed like a battle—who wanted more, who needed more, who could give more.
She needed this. She needed him. Not just to get her out of the house or to get her out of the situation with Otto. Now she needed him to help shake off the bad feelings she’d been trying to get rid of. He was doing a pretty good job of it so far, taking her mind off other things and making her notice that his hands had begun to roam.
It’s funny to think they were practically strangers, because everything was beginning to feel familiar. She was starting to crave the sensation of his arms around her waist and the feel of his mouth pressed against her skin.
There was a moment of hesitation, but Caty put her hands over his to lead Elan—to allow him to explore new territories, uncover skin.
His fingers skimmed right under her shirt, and it was like lighting a match to her insides. His kisses poured gasoline, fed the flame.
They broke apart, and their lips moved for only a breath. She pushed forward, but he held her back as he leaned his forehead toward hers. His voice was a ragged whisper, “Are we . . . ?”
She smiled, felt her cheeks burn as she licked her already swollen lips. “Yes.”
four
He could tell he was falling apart. Everything that had been calm and calculated earlier—careful, he’d like to think—had gotten clumsy, messy, and frantic very fast.
It was the way she looked when she said yes. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips were pink and plump, and he’d done that to her. He couldn’t tell if he felt awe or relief when she said it, pulled the shirt off his back, and began kissing his neck.
She pulled him in, and they stumbled to the bed. They did not land on it gracefully, but that was okay because they were preoccupied with discarding each other’s clothing as fast as they could. He managed to take off her shirt, and she unbuttoned his pants.
They stared at each other for a while, taking in the sight: both half-naked and very much still into the moment. Caty lay on her back, and he followed suit, positioning himself on top, careful not to put his weight on her.
He paused, his nose touching hers before kissing her again.
She moaned, enveloping him in her arms, pulling him closer. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and it was so tempting to just sink into it, to just lose himself and let go.
“You have protection, right?” Caty asked, in between the kisses.
If he were honest, he’d tell her that he’d love to just kiss her more. They were so good at it, and he wanted to better know her sighs, the side of her jaw, the hollow of her neck, her clavicle, and the rest of her he hadn’t seen, or touched, or kissed.
But her hand was already on his stomach, crawling down to reach out for him.
Elan paused, lifted his body up just an inch. “What’s the hurry?”
Her hand stilled. “I’m dying, that’s all.”
Elan lurched away from her momentarily to locate his pants on the floor. He heard Caty laugh—no, giggle.
He looked back. “What?”
She let her head fall back on the pillow, still laughing. He found his wallet with the condom hidden inside, but now he wasn’t sure if it was still needed.
Elan stood over the bed and asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” she answered, laughter subsiding. “You did nothing wrong, just get back here.”
He fished out the condom from his wallet, frowning.
She sat up. “Aw, are you upset?”
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t think laughing is actually encouraging.”
“What kind of sex have you been having?” Caty asked, looking at the pack he was holding.
Elan thought about the question, but he couldn’t exactly remember. And why would he when he’s got a beautiful girl sitting in front of him, biting her lip?
“Hey,” Caty called for his attention, “do you need me to do anything for you?”
There were plenty of things she could do for him, but he also knew there were plenty of things he would like to do for her too.
She leaned in and carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, as if she was learning to do this again, to get close to him. She was so unbelievably coy that he had the urge to grab her ass and pull her in.
He felt her gasp, lips right by his jaw. “Judy,” she sang, teasing.
“Why did you laugh?”
“No reason.” Caty kissed his earlobe, and it tickled him. He didn’t respond, so she leaned back. “Fine. I was laughing because I thought, Juliana must be an idiot.”
Elan blinked.
“And also because I was checking you out when you bent down, that’s all. Cute butt.”
But he barely heard that. The first thing she said had struck him more deeply. Juliana must be an idiot. What did she mean with that?
“Okay?” Caty squeezed his arm.
He looked at the condom still in his hands then back at her. Her eyes looked up at him expectantly, but he was lost in his head.
“Elan,” she called, but instead he turned away. His thoughts were spinning. He felt her hand on his arm and then on his face. She slapped his jaw lightly, turning his face to look him in the eyes. “You okay?”
“No, I . . .” What was his problem? Elan looked around, painfully aware that the room was too cold and they were almost naked. They were
doing it, or were about to, if he could just snap out of whatever was happening to him.
Her hand reached out for him again, but he moved away.
What the hell.
“Okay,” Caty said, moving back.
This is Juliana’s friend. He knew that. Was he thinking about that when he was kissing her? Not really. When she unbuttoned his pants? Not at all. He had to think about that now? She had to bring up Juliana?
Elan looked at her and felt his insides stir. Earlier, she’d been so bold, as if it was the most common event. She didn’t even want to dim the lights or cover herself up. She was just being her, with him, and he couldn’t deny that he wanted to stare at her a little longer.
But now she just looked embarrassed. She pulled the sheets over her body and stared at him questioningly.
“I’m sorry,” Elan looked away, the disappointment hitting him fast. “I can’t.”
He can’t? Did that just slip out of his mouth? Caty was completely still, her hand clutching the sheets. Could he blame her? He was stunned to have uttered those words. At least part of him had been yelling, Just fucking do it. Caty was beautiful, with her tangled hair, flushed cheeks, and absolutely distracting lips. Jesus Christ, he can’t do it? Really?
She inhaled, then let go of the breath, silently. Calmly. Finally, she said, “It’s okay. You’re right. We can’t do it. Who are we kidding?”
We can’t? he thought, still sitting on the bed. He watched her get up and pick up her clothes from the floor.
“So, you’re in love with her,” she announced, like it was now a known fact. “You’re not good at denying it.”
“I wasn’t . . .” he mumbled but didn’t finish. He felt pathetic, not knowing what to say to her. Was she right? Was he in love with Jules? Was that why he couldn’t do this?
“I have this problem. I always do,” she continued.
His eyes followed her as she walked around putting her clothes back on.
“What?”
“I tend to like the guys who like Juliana.” She paused. “But I’m also attracted to unavailable men. At least that’s what my therapist said.”
“You have a therapist?” His voice was an octave too high.