His gaze immediately went to Arielle’s lips, and she tugged the bottom one between her teeth, which nearly made him choke. The urge to kiss her was so strong, it clouded his brain beyond reason. He knew exactly how good she’d feel in his arms, how deft she was with her tongue, and there was so much he still had to learn about whether and how she liked her collarbone kissed, and if her shoulders were as velvety to the touch as they looked.
But given the conversation they had all of five seconds ago, he knew it would be unfair. He was Judah Klein™. He was respectable and professional. He davened three times a day and learned every morning and was never without a kippah on his head and tzitzit under his shirt. His life was full of Torah and Hebrew music and hushed, reverent chuppahs. Nowhere in there was there room for a complication like this, and in no universe was there a future where he and Arielle Becker were… well, anything.
So, reluctantly, he stepped away, clearing his throat as he held up the bag. “Got ’em,” he said, his voice nearly cracking on the words.
“My hero,” she said dryly, and was it his imagination, or was she walking past him with a little more storm in her step than before?
They retook their seats on opposite ends of the couch, and Arielle picked up the remote to put on HGTV, which he prayedwould do its job of distracting him with people who lived and died by open-concept floor plans—something rarely seen in Orthodox homes, where full dining rooms out of view of kitchen messes were a must for Shabbos hosting. But even though the couple on-screen was the absolute worst variety—the kind who seemed to have forgotten that paint was an actual concept and no one was forcing them to live with the existing neon-orange walls—he couldn’t stop his eyes from straying over to her.
She was definitely licking that chip in an obscene fashion on purpose.
“You know I can see you, right?”
“You wouldn’t if you didn’t keep looking over here,” she pointed out.
“Well, I wouldn’t keep looking if you weren’t so…” He groaned. “This was a bad idea. I should leave.”
“You can’t even be in the same room as me now? Because I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t going to be the last time. And if you walk out on Liana’s wedding, she’ll kill you.”
“I’m assuming you’re going to be slightly more covered up for Liana’s wedding,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“No, this is exactly what I’m wearing. You don’t like it?”
“Arielle.”
“You know, I feel like once you’ve had your dick in my mouth, you can probably call me Ari.”
He closed his eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled. “Arielle.”
“Oh, I’m just teasing you; you make it so easy.” A pause. “I didn’t start this, you know.”
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“But I shouldn’t have goaded you. And I shouldn’t have put your hand on my thigh at the bar.” She put down the chip. “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you again, not if you didn’t touch me first, and then I broke it. You told me this is confusing for you, and it’s obvious you regret last night, so—”
The words jarred something loose in him. “Whoa, hang on. I don’t regret last night.”
“You don’t?” She furrowed her brow in confusion.
The way she was looking at him, the corners of that lush mouth turned down, a hint of sadness in her eyes, cracked something in his heart wide open. “I don’tregretanything,” he said firmly. “Not like you’re thinking. Last night was one of the better nights of my entire life. I’m pretty sure I’ll still be thinking about it on my deathbed.”
He was gratified to see her lips twist into a smile, but it only lasted a moment. “Lemme guess. That’s also the problem.”
“It is also the problem, yes. People already talk about me, wondering what’s wrong with me that I’m still single at thirty-two—”
“Which is fucked up, by the way.”
“Yes, we’re both aware of that. But the truth is…” He paused. This was the part he hadn’t said out loud to anyone, the part that still made his stomach churn. “The truth is thatIneed something to change. I do all this traveling, all these concerts, these programs for Pesach and other holidays, and I’m tired of being alone. Everyone else comes with a wife, a family, and I get to be the third wheel or sixth wheel or ninth wheel. And yeah, I don’t just want to settle down with someone I’m barely into, but… maybe that’s what it’s gonna have to be. Because I’m going to Mexico for Pesach in a week, and it should be amazing, but I amdreadingit.”
By the time he got the final few words out, he felt like he’d run a marathon. He hadn’t even said these things tohimself, not in so many words, and he let it all come pouring out in front of the last person he should be confiding in.Again. Whatwasit about this girl that made him spill everything he tried so hard to bottle up? “God, you must think I’m a hypocritical mess.”
“To be fair, most guys I hook up with are hypocritical messes. But no,” she said, stretching out on the couch, “you’re not worsethan the rest. I get it. I’d probably get it more if my life looked more like yours, but hell, as soon as Liana gets married, it will, right? She’ll be gone, Bella’s gone… and what brought the three of us together was that we were the last of our friends who were still single. So.” She shrugged, but it didn’t come off nearly as casual as he imagined she wanted it to. “I’m sure I’ll feel that desperation too, eventually. Just in time for there to be no single guys left.”
The worddesperationrang in his ears, despite—or maybe because of—her matter-of-fact tone in using it—as if all hope of marrying for love was gone.
Then again, thinking about his million past dates, he sure as hell felt that way often.
Why was it that when he finally found a girl he could talk to, a girl he was beyond attracted to, a girl who made him laugh… it was a girl who had an entirely different value system and vision for the future?
