He’s studying my toes. I smile sheepishly as his gaze lifts to my face. No accounting for class, I guess.
“There’s extra whatever you need in the bathroom.” He points to a door.
It’s likely the work of cleaning staff, but it’s nice that he’s aware of a guest’s needs.
“Thanks.”
He’s distracted and speaks without looking directly at me. Did I go too far in the alley? Could I have pushed him to a point he didn’t want to go? Did I completely misread the situation?
“We’ve got a big day of exorcism tomorrow,” I say, desperate to bring the lightness back between us.
With his hands stuffed deep in his pockets he raises and lowers his eyebrows comically, like an actor in an old black-and-white film.
“Good night, Maggie.”
“Sleep tight, Roe.”
After he’s gone I shower. I luxuriate in the hot clean feeling after a day of creepy men and lurking in alleys. The day wasn’t so bad, all in all. I replay the kisses. There’s a mixture of pride and something else. Guilt maybe? It’s been so long, high school probably, since I’ve allowed myself to enjoy the company of a guy, let alone actively pursued one. My body took over in both of those instances. I’m shocked and amazed with myself. Who knew I was capable of such lust and then acting on it. I mean, everything was PG but I still crave him more.
It’s thrilling.
But also scary. So maybe that’s why hours later, I lie wide awake in bed thinking. The kisses, the stalkers, the past, the perverts in power. I can’t seem to stop the swirling thoughts. Through the walls come the sounds of soft movement. I take a risk.
“Are you awake?” I text him.
Dots appear almost immediately. An idea is formulating. Something to lighten the mood between us, to bring us back to a safe place.
“I can’t turn off my brain,” his text reads.
“Me neither.”
“Gonna make tea. Did I wake you?”
“No.” I hit send and start typing before I can chicken out. “Wanna go for a swim instead?”
I close my eyes and throw back my head, covering my face with another extra soft and smelly good pillow, like a total dork. The adrenaline of possible rejection has my feet kicking like I’m throwing a tantrum. I should turn off my phone. I missed this feeling, I realize, and then shame slaps my face, like I don’t deserve it.
But I can’t help myself. Even though Roe is not a long-term option. He’s a great friend and partner in stopping crime. I like having a person to talk to about my… life. And sure, maybe he isn’t bad on the eyes.
I can’t look at my phone. I can’t. And yet…
I lift the pillow and peek at my phone with one eye. My phone sits watching me. Judging me. Still dark with no reply.
“Argh.” My moan is stifled by the pillow. I should have specified that there would be no touching.
At the ping of my phone I pop up like a jack-in-the-box. I read the text without breathing.
“Be out by the pool in ten.”
I flatten myself out and squeal silently like the hopeless loser I am.
* * *
Roe
Maggie’s showerturned off over an hour ago, followed by the scraping of the bed moving on the wood floor repeatedly. The phone was in my hand to text her when her message popped up. My plan was to let her take the lead after I accosted her in that back alley.
Even though I take my time changing into my swim trunks and grabbing a couple towels, Maggie still isn’t by the pool when I arrive outside. I lay the towels on the chairs before stretching my arms over my head and side to side, trying to release the tension. The air is chilly despite the warm day and an eerie mist swirls around the water’s surface. The gentle gurgle of the hot tub jets compete with the otherwise quiet night.
