He grins as he pulls me against his chest, not caring how wet my skin still is. “You’re just jealous because I never have to do laundry.”
I nod. “Damn. Thatisunfair.”
“Nothing about life is fair, and I’ll never understand why our kind assumes it should be. Being alive is mostly monotonous, with the occasional chaotic break to keep us from losing our fucking minds.”
I pull back to look at him. Is he really that cynical? “Then what’s the point of all this? Why do we keep going, do you think?”
He brushes a lock of wet hair behind my ear. “I don’t know. Maybe because, in this whirlwind of tedium and confusion and unspeakable pain, there are moments when everything makes sense. When it feels like time stops just for you. You, and, if you’re lucky, the person you’d die to protect. We don’t rise each day seeking fairness. It’s the search for wholeness that keeps us going.” He clears his throat. “It is for me, at least.”
Winston undresses, tosses a few towels around the tub where the water is splattered across, and we make our way back across the hall, into my bathroom. He pushes the towel off my body and pulls me into the shower, where he makes me come two more times with his mouth before the water runs cold.
I’m sated, relaxed, and my body is begging me for a nap when my phone rings. My heart stutters when I see it’s Lindsay. Not that I dread talking to my closest friend, but the idea that one of these days, she’s going to call and say, “Hey, I’ve decided I’d like my house back now,” sends me into a sticky web of anxiety.
Winston sees the name flash across my phone, and his lips form a grim line. He must have the same fear.
“Hey Linds,” I say, trying to sound delighted and not at all nervous to talk to her.
“Nat! Girl, guess what?”
I don’t want to guess. This game sucks for anxious people. There’s absolutely no way to win, and the only thing it makes us better at is catastrophizing. “What?” I finally ask.
“I’m taking Friday off, and we’re going to have a girls’ weekend!”
What? This Friday? That’s two days away. As long as I’ve known Lindsay, she’s been a meticulous planner. Spontaneity is not her thing. “Is everything okay?”
“What? Of course! Couldn’t be better. I just need a break. From work, from life, from disappointingmen, i.e. men.” Her tone is jittery, and a little manic. There’s something she’s not telling me. “So I figured we’d have a good ol’ fashioned sleepover, and you can show me this bar you’re working at now, and we’ll hit the town! Sound good?”
What can I say?No thanks, Linds. I really appreciate you giving me a free place to stay, but you’re not allowed to come visit because I’d rather spend the weekend having sex with my ghost boyfriend in every room of the house you own.“Sounds great. I can’t wait to see you,” I tell her, dodging the impatient, frustrated look Winston’s giving me.
“Okay. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Byeee.”
The phone disconnects, and Winston and I exchange a knowing, panicked glance.
“Lindsay’s coming up this weekend.”
He runs a rough hand through his hair. “Well, shit.”
Chapter 19
Winston
Natalie paces across the small rug in her bedroom, nibbling on her thumbnail. “We need to figure out how to approach this.” Nervous energy floats off her supple body, and my fingers twitch at my side, eager to smooth the crease in her brow. She put her loose t-shirt back on, and nothing else. Her blonde curls are dry and wild, and my gaze lingers on the pastel purple tips of her small toes. “The order of operations.”
I cross my arms, leaning back against her headboard, willing myself to pay better attention. “I’ll follow your lead, of course.”
“If she gets here on Friday afternoon, maybe I can rush her out the door for an early dinner. Pizza. Yeah, pizza.”
“Pizza is a good idea.” This feels like a two-way conversation, but it isn’t, really. I know nothing about Lindsay, other than the fact that I find her annoying. Natalie needs to work this out on her own, and I’ll provide as much support as she’ll willingly take.
“Then, at dinner, I can ease her into the existence of monsters,” she continues. “Likely, there’ll be one or two working at Crust Lust, so that’ll help. We’ll be in public, so she won’t beable to lose her shit. There will be time to answer her questions, of which, she’ll have many.”
“Then what?”
“She’ll probably want a stiff drink. I’ll take her to the bar.” She blows a strand off her forehead. “I can’t believe I’m not on the schedule for that night.”
I knew this already. She writes her schedule down on a notepad that she sticks to the fridge. I had many plans for her Friday night off. All of them filthy.
Fucking Lindsay.
