“You’re sexy. And handsome. It’s just been a really long time since I did this with anyone,” I say.
“Me, too. Two years.”
I wonder if it’s true. He could have anyone, I think.
His bedroom is high-ceilinged and clean, with pale sheets and wide, old-fashioned windows covered by light grey curtains. I sit on the bed, and a moment later he is kissing me. I lean back, and his arm cradles my head as it lands. This could actually happen.
He rests on his elbows above me, his hand trailing up my side. I have a sense of clarity about how much I really want this. It has been so long since I truly wanted to do this with somebody, but I want to know everything: what he looks like with his shirt off. How he will undress me. Whether he will be bold, or shy, or intense.
He leans down and kisses me through my shirt, and I think: he is not being shy. He’s being assertive and tender, and I need more of him, and of this, and I am lighting up like an old-fashioned carnival ride, all flashing bulbs and whirling motors…and then my cell phone rings, with the inevitability of single parenthood. I reach into my pocket and pull it out, glancing at it.
“Not the babysitter,” I say, tossing it aside.
Ollie murmurs a laugh and then kisses me softly as I start to undo his shirt buttons…first the top one, then the next. This is actually going to happen.
He begins to undo his own buttons even more quickly as I slide one hand underneath his shirt, feeling how warm his skinfeels beneath my fingertips. He pauses to peel away my shirt and tosses it, then takes in the sight of me in my black bra and jeans. He runs one finger along the bra strap and slides it aside to kiss the skin underneath it.
This is actually going to happen.
He finishes pulling his own shirt off and tosses it. I look at the shape of him, his shoulders strong and dotted with freckles, his chest lean and strong. I run one of my hands through the light layer of hair that runs up his chest. He slides one hand behind me and unlatches my bra.
He shivers a little, then leans forward to pull my bra away, to tease me with his mouth.
“I like you so much,” I whisper.I love you.
He kisses me tenderly, and it is almost enough. This is actually going to happen.
My cell phone buzzes. Someone has left a message. I glance at it.
I slide a hand along his thigh, touching him as his head bows against me.
My cell phone buzzes again.
“Just one second,” I say breathily.
I run my hand along his back and then look at the phone again.
“Just one…” My back is arching as I glance at the voice message that is being constructed visually by my cell phone. “This is Dr. Yukovitz calling from Rochester Memorial Hospital. Please contact the…”
I sit up quickly. “Hold on.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s a hospital, I should…”
Ollie’s face is pure concern as I listen to the full message. I grab my discarded shirt as I listen.
“It’s Nick,” I say at last. “He’s gotten in a car accident. I guess I’m his emergency contact.”
Ollie nods, once. His mouth forms into a frown.
“This doesn’t mean…” I trail off.
“I know,” Ollie agrees. His voice is kind, but his eyes look distant.
“I should probably...”
“Yeah. Of course,” he says quietly. “Can I help, or call a cab, or…”
“A cab sounds great.”
I get dressed and then lean over and press my face into his neck. I kiss him once softly on the shoulder, then once on the lips.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
He nods. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
He almost sounds like he means it.
