“Hard not to when you set the record for world’s longest dry spell. Don’t bullshit me, Aiden. I want details.”
“It’s Maggie.”
“Maggie?” he repeats. “From the shoot?”
“Yeah. We hit it off. Things got heated. I asked if she wanted to spend the night, and she agreed. Now I’m making her dinner, freaking the fuck out, and wondering if eight condoms is enough, because I’m going to look like a fucking loser who only lasts six seconds because I haven’t had a woman on top of me in half a decade. Jesus, this was a stupid idea.”
“Aiden. You know you’re not a loser, right? I’m just giving you shit about the whole dry spell thing.”
“I know. I’m just… She’s special, Shawn. Wicked smart. Funny. Sexy as hell. I know it’s only one night, but I don’t want to mess anything up. I want things to be good for her.”
“Best advice? Take everything in stride. Who cares if you have sex on the couch or in your room? You’re spending time with a woman you think is amazing. That’s awesome, man.”
“In stride. Okay. I can do that.”
“Why only one night?”
“We both not looking for a relationship. This is what she wants, and it’s what I want, too. It’s easier. No logistical nightmares, but we still get to fool around.”
“Okay. As long as you two are on the same page.”
“Yeah. We are.”
“Good. Okay. I’ll let you go. Man. I can’t believe you’re getting laid tonight and I’m going to sit at home by myself. What the hell do I do?”
“Wow. One night without sex. How will you survive?” A knock on the door startles me. “Shit. I have to go.”
“Have fun, man! Call me tomorrow.”
I hang up and put my phone in my pocket, walking across the living room and pausing at the door. Two quick breaths, and I turn the knob.
There’s Maggie. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, and she’s wearing a dress that hits above her knees. Boots are on her feet, and a jacket covers her arms. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, and tendrils of honey-colored strands frame her face.
It feels like the wind gets knocked out of me. She’s so beautiful. Even with a fresh face—the makeup from earlier wiped away and a tired haze flickering in her eyes—she’s breathtaking.
“Hey,” I say, offering her a smile. I’m the first to speak, a task I think is needed to show I want her here.
“Hi,” she answers, returning my smile.
“Want to come inside?”
“Yeah. I do.”
I step back and let her pass by. “I can take your coat and bag.”
She shimmies out of the black wool, and I hang it on the rack adjacent to the door with her overnight tote. She’s left in a short-sleeved navy blue dress. The material hugs her chest and waist, fanning out over her legs. I feel like an asshole for dressing so casual, choosing a pair of gray joggers and a black shirt instead of jeans.
“You look great, Maggie.”
“Thanks.” She tucks a piece of rogue hair behind her ear. “It seemed a little counterproductive to put on more clothes after having so little on earlier, but I’m not sure the people on the Metro wanted to see me in my underwear.”
Her eyes sweep over the foyer and the rest of the space. I wonder how my apartment looks through her eyes. I didn’t have enough time to clean up before she got here, and the place is a little chaotic. The blankets on the couch aren’t folded. Maven’s backpack is unzipped, a planner and folder spilling onto the floor. A stack of unopened mail is about to fall off the kitchen island.
“Wow, Aiden. This is really nice,” she says. “I like that it looks like a home. It’s spacious and way bigger than my place. And look at those windows. Floor-to-ceiling. I’m impressed.”
“The higher rent is worth the splurge to not stumble over Maven in the morning. She can be a terror before six a.m. Sorry about the mess. I don’t, uh, typically do this sort of thing.”
“You don’t invite random women back to your house for what you think will be mind-blowing sex?”
