Trick climbs off the bed and stands over me for a second. “On the pill?”
“No, I haven’t been seeing anyone. I was giving my body a break.”
Nodding, he holds out a hand.
Wincing as my thoughts intersect and crash into reality, I rise and let him lead me into the bathroom. He tosses the ripped condom in the trash and tugs me into the shower.
At first, I don’t move as his soapy fingers take possession of my body, even pushing inside me at one point, and then rinsing me with the showerhead between my legs.
Finally I gasp and step back. “Enough. I’ll do it.”
He studies my face like he’s about to ignore me, then looks at the ceiling as he steps back.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just keep forgetting your body doesn’t belong to me.”
My eyes avoid his as my stomach clenches and my cheeks heat. Belonging to him—what would I have given years ago to stay his? Way too much. Even now that thought tempts me. Against all reason. “Well, it certainly was yours for a little while.” My tone’s equal parts wry and flirtatious.
He washes and rinses his own body efficiently and steps out before me since I stay to wash my hair. When I exit the shower, he’s waiting and helps me dry off.
“Well,” he says, apropos of nothing. “I wonder what other surprises destiny’s got in store.” He crosses himself absently, making my eyes go saucer-wide.
“Did you just say a prayer that I’m not pregnant?”
“Fuck, no. Calling God’s attention to a broken condom is just asking for trouble. Nothing that feels that good is supposed to happen without consequences.”
“So then? What was that about?” I ask, mimicking the sign-of-the-cross gesture.
“Just habit at certain times.” He looks away, and his smile is almost sheepish. It’s uncharacteristically sweet and boyish for him and makes me want to kiss him again. When he reins in his thoughts, he sobers and looks back at me. “You all right? It’s been a busy couple days for you.”
The question’s so absurd I can’t help myself; laughter bubbles up until it consumes me and I’m bending forward from laughing so hard.
He watches me with a smile.
Finally I get control and straighten. Pulling a towel around me, I knot it at the top, though my boobs keep it from closing completely. “I’ll dry my hair and then maybe you can drive me back to Boston?”
“Tonight? No, it’s late. You’ll stay over.”
“I really think it’s in our best interest to get away from each other as soon as possible. This combination—” I swing my index finger, pointing between us. “It’s more trouble than I can handle.”
Stepping forward, he pulls me against him into a warm hug. “Nah, you’re fine.” He drops a kiss on my damp head. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
Trick’s having me isn’t exactly reassuring, but I don’t say that because as per usual it feels great to be in his arms.
Back in the bed, we lie on our sides under the covers, facing each other. We talk the way old friends might, about mutual acquaintances and shared memories from our school days.
“You know what I thought you’d try? Being in a school play. You were pretty theatrical in English class.”
He chuckles. “Showing off.”
“You dated Bailey Robinson for a bit.” That causes a little stab of jealousy, though not as intensely as it would have if he’d married her as many suggested he might. “She wanted you to audition, didn’t she?”
“Hounded me.”
“And yet…?”
He shrugs.
