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She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I’ve been having dreams, but it’s always me, you, and the roster of the Philadelphia Eagles. And you don’t mind sharing.”
I sighed wearily. “Frankly, if you could pull the entire Eagles football team, I think you’d deserve it.”
She grinned a little bit and seemed to relax as I posted up against the counter as the coffee machine gurgled away.
“Seriously, I just wanted to say how weird it’s been, me staying here, but you’ve been really good about making me feel welcome, so thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, tilting my head. “Although it’s not like some amazing admission. I know I’m a great host.”
She rolled her eyes. “And so modest.”
“Definitely not modest. But I’m incredible, and I’ve got the bod to back it up.” I flexed a little as she laughed and poured herself some coffee. I filled my mug and headed out into the living room to stand in front of the sliding glass door. I pushed the blinds away and watching the sun rising over the city, long beams of light slanting sideways and glittering off the polished glass of the buildings across the street.
“I know it’s been hard,” she said, walking over to join me. “And work’s been stressful. But you really were there when I needed it, so thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I glanced down at her, and she stared out, up into the sky, and I watched her for a second. She always did that—looked at the sky, and the clouds, instead of at the buildings or toward the street. That was the difference between us: I turned down, and she turned up, like she was searching for something more and something bigger, while I was content with what was right in front of me.
We complemented each other like that. I didn’t say it out loud, but from working with her these past couple weeks, it’d become clear that we make up for each other’s flaws in a shockingly efficient way. She wasn’t great at the nitty-gritty details of the day-to-day business stuff, while that was what I made my living on. I was so good at rehabbing and reopening factories, because I was very good at all the boring logistical stuff it entailed. But by contrast, she was very good at having a long-term vision for what we were building toward, whereas I got too lost in the trees to see the forest.
I never noticed it before, back when we were kids. Maybe it was there back then and I was too self-absorbed to realize, or maybe I was just a dumb kid and couldn’t think beyond what was in front of my face. Besides, back then I was constantly picturing what she’d look like naked, since I was a horny teenage boy, though maybe not much had changed in that regard. I glanced at her, then down at her breasts, and craned my neck to look at her ass.
She caught me, glared, and walked away. “You’re a pig,” she said, and disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door.
I laughed to myself, but frankly, the jokes and the staring were all my way of coping with the situation.
I wanted her and wanted her badly. I got a taste the other night, and though she liked to pretend that was our one and only chance at tasting each other, I knew she wanted it too. That wasn’t about getting the sex out of our system—that was all about realizing just how deeply rooted our mutual desire was, and how much more we had left. She was inside of me, always there lingering in the back of my mind, whether we were at home watching TV on opposite ends of the couch like roommates, or in the office interviewing potential hires. It was always there, swirling in me, making me want to do something stupid—like kick down her door and ravish her wildly on her bed.
Over the last few days, I’d made a few trips back to her apartment to grab things for her. I cleaned up each time I went, a little at a time, but I’d have to hire someone to get the place in shape before she returned. That wouldn’t be a big deal, but I was delaying. Maybe it was selfish, but I wanted her to stay, because the longer she slept in my extra bedroom, the more likely it was that we’d end up naked together again.
I finished my coffee and went to get more when someone buzzed my door. I frowned a little and craned my neck toward the bedrooms. “Hey, Jude, you expecting someone?” I called out.
“Nope,” she yelled back. “Was that someone at the door?”
I frowned a little bit, finished getting coffee, and checked the intercom. “Hello?”
But nobody responded. I put my drink down and grabbed a shirt before heading downstairs. I figured it was a package, and took the steps down to the lobby, then to the front door. Sitting down on the concrete stoop was a basket, wrapped in plastic like a gift bag. I picked it up and looked around, but there was only a bald guy in glasses walking a little fluffy white dog. I went back inside, lugging the basket along with me, climbed the steps back up, and was sweating by the time I entered the apartment and ripped off the outer plastic.
