As I drive to his place, this thought keeps playing over and over again in the back of my mind: what the fuck am Idoing?
I’ve been thinking that same thing since Ty walked in while Eric and I were sharing amoment.
I’m not going to stop questioning what we’re doing. That feeling will stick around as long as this remains a dark secret Eric and I keep from my best friend, but how can we talk to Ty about this when we don’t even know what the fuck is goingon?
What if all this has just been aboutfucking?
I know that’s bullshit, but it’s more complicated than anything I’ve ever been involved inbefore.
When I’m at the concierge desk, waiting for the concierge to call the elevator for me, the way he looks at me, like he’s done this for Eric’s tricks before…it’s strange thinking there’s a witness in Eric’s real life, someone who knows something’s up between the two of us. And the weirdest part about it is that I likeit.
I don’t want to keep Eric asecret.
If it wasn’t for this situation, it wouldn’t need to be a secret, but all I know is I’m relieved to see him again because not being able to have a conversation about what’s going on has been so fuckingfrustrating.
I knock on the door to his unit and wait, realizing this is what so much of my anticipation over the past few weeks has been about—this moment when we face each otheragain.
Between me starting my new job and Eric having to make time to come to Atlanta, it’s been too fucking long since we’ve been together…too long since I’ve heard his voice…since I’ve felt his body againstmine.
As the door opens, he stands there, wearing an uncomfortableexpression.
He’s in a T-shirt and jeans, barefoot. The familiar fragrant scent of cologne fills the air, mixing with some sort of spice. We sort of look at each other. Then he smirks, which in turn makes mesmile.
He nods for me to enter, and when I do, he closes the door behindme.
I want to kiss him, but he turns away, saying, “This is theplace.”
Just like his condo in Puerto Vallarta, it’s gorgeous and packed with what must be designer furniture—a black leather sectional sofa taking up most of the living area and a wide-screen TV across from it. I imagine him watchingThe Girl with the Dragon Tattooon that TV. Abstract art hangs on the walls, along with various sculptures and decor that rest on side tables andconsoles.
The entryway into the kitchen is beside the door, the bar dividing it from the livingarea.
I hear something sizzling in a pan even before I turn to see him approaching the stove. He mixes the contents inside a skillet with a wooden stirspoon.
“It’s been a little while since I’ve seen the chef in you,” Isay.
He glances back at me. “I typically cook a lot more than I did in Puerto Vallarta. You know, I was onvacation.”
“You cooked several meals, for it being vacation,” I reply. “And I enjoyed everything you made, so what are wehaving?”
“I figured I’d keep it simple tonight. It’s nothing fancy. A little chicken and pennepasta.”
I walk around the other side of the bar and into the living area, checking out the dinner table set with plates, placemats, silverware, and napkins. Two unlit candles are placed between the plates, and a bucket of ice with a bottle of wine sticking out sits on the edge of thetable.
“This is very nice,” Isay.
I head back into the kitchen and come up behindhim.
I don’t like this awkwardness between us, this distance that seems to be there now that we’ve been apart this long. There seem to be all these questions lingering, questions that have been left open. But there’s one thing I don’t want him toquestion.
I put my arms around him, pull him back against me, whispering against the side of his face. “Hey, I’ve missedyou.”
As he whirls around, I back away slightly, but not giving him much personalspace.
“I’ve missed you too,” he says, like he doesn’t want to admitit.
“There. Was that so hard?” I ask, leaning into him and pushing my lips against his, hoping not just to remind him of what we shared, but to recapture it for myself. That energy, that spark I’ve craved. In these past few days, I’ve wondered if we can even recapture outside of that experience that feels like a whole other worldaway.
It’s effortless how quickly we fall back into that passion, and what was apprehension and hesitation when I first arrived, becomes need from Eric as he pushes me back against the adjoining counter. His hand slides up under my shirt, around my hip, to my back. He forces me close to him. The way his tongue claims my mouth and his free hand grips the back of my neck, I feel his need forme.
