“One sec.” I slid out of bed and went into the bathroom.
When I came back to bed, I was wearing a red lace teddy and matching garter belts. It was something straight out of one of those Victoria’s Secret catalogs, and I wasn’t sure where I found the courage to shove my body into it.
First, Aiken whistled, and then he hooted, and then he whistled again. “My, my, my, Little Red Richards, get over here in that get-up.”
I walked slowly…
“Pick up the pace, lady. You were not kidding when you said you had a gift for me.”
I made it to the bed, and Aiken snatched me into his arms. We were back to being front-to-front, and he ran his hand down my arm and up my back. “I need a moment to take this all in.”
His eyes perused while his hand explored.
Eventually, Aiken’s hand wound in between us, finding my most sensitive spots, gently removing the lingerie, moving us to a way better place—both of us.
The last two weeks of February passed without incident. Aiken and I had even gone over to the athletic facility on campus a few times and taken a couple of spinning classes.
He knew how I took my coffee, and I knew what Chinese takeout he liked.
We’d settled into a quiet ease once again, avoiding any serious conversation.
Weekends had consisted of exercise, hanging around my place or his—just being—and having a drink while Aiken smoked a cigar. It wasn’t super exciting, but we both seemed happy.
I figured the ball was in my court, so when March arrived, midterms were over, and my desk was organized, it was my time. Time to make a move, time to shit or get off the pot, or whatever. Time to ask Aiken to move in, as he’d asked me to do.
I smiled to myself thinking about it. It was super cute the way he’d framed that question, and I’d shot him down.
On Friday night, we’d grilled out, despite the chilly temperatures, eaten our fill, and watched a movie in bed (because my couch wasn’t comfortable). Of course, we’d both fallen asleep (because the bed was too comfortable). I’d planned to make breakfast and ask Aiken over coffee, but he was gone in the morning.
He’d woken early with Smitty and taken him to do his business. To my knowledge, he didn’t come back upstairs.
I must’ve dozed back off, because when I woke, Smitty was chilling in his dog bed and the house was quiet. I stretched like I didn’t have a care in the world, slipped out of bed, and padded to the bathroom. Tucked in my robe, I walked downstairs.
The first clue was there was no coffee. Aiken always started the coffeepot. I wondered if I was out…maybe Aiken had gone home for java.
I went outside to look for the paper, and it wasn’t there.
In my robe and slippers, I walked next door while Smitty made quick use of the yard.
I knocked, and nothing. The house was dark with no movement—not that one person caused a lot of that.
“Shit,” I mumbled, pulling my robe tighter.
I’d resisted accepting a key to Aiken’s, for whatever twisted reason I’d concocted in my head. Now, I was worried sick something might be wrong, and I couldn’t get inside.
I knocked again, Smitty barked at the closed back door, and nothing.
No answer, no stirring, nothing, zip.
I texted him and received no answer.
His voice mail picked up my calls.
For two weeks.
Every day, I thought about calling his dad, but I didn’t want to worry Sam. He’d had enough in his life, and now he was happy with Judith. He didn’t need a hysterical me in his life.
All in all, I knew Aiken had left because he didn’t want me.
Maybe his dad even knew?
Which left me alone with my thoughts and theories—a lethal combination.
