I swallow dryly. “Then we can talk about posting the second one.”
She nods and finally, a smile breaks through. “I should go. It’s getting late, and there’s dinner . . .”
“Yeah. Okay.” I hold out her journal.
She just looks at it, balling her fists in her lap. “Keep it.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. “Yeah?”
“Not forever. Only for a little while. When I take it home, I hide it, and it’s sad. Maybe it should be somewhere it can actually breathe.”
“Like my nightstand?” I tease.
She maintains eye contact, even as something darker passes over her face—desire? Fear? I’d pay a mint to read her thoughts at the moment. “If that’s where you want to keep it . . . I won’t stop you.”
“I can’t be responsible for what it makes me do,” I say more gruffly than I mean.
“Then I’ll be responsible.”
God.
Damn.
This is the ultimate test of willpower. She’s flirting with me. Shelikesthe idea of me reading her words at night, touching myself, and fuck if it doesn’t make me sort of crazy with lust. It’s best she leaves now before I make a huge mistake.
I look out the window. Days are getting shorter, and it’s already dark. “I’ll walk you downstairs,” I say. “You should get a car home.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I insist.” I put the journal down. “Come.”
I ride down the elevator with her and put her in a taxi. As she’s driven away, as my warmth cools, I begin to dread what’s ahead of me. Another night alone. I know her now. Her secrets, her small protests against what she thinks she’s supposed to be, the bow of her lips.
Being alone when I don’t want to be is hard enough.
Knowing everything she is, all that I won’t have next to me tonight, will make it worse.
7
One indication this won’t be a normal day is the fact that I’m the one who wakes up first. Seven minutes before Rich’s alarm goes off, I’m completely awake, as if I’d only blinked and hadn’t actually slept. Maybe I didn’t, because I’m still having the same thoughts I was as I’d drifted off last night.
Finn read my journal, and he wasn’t repulsed.
He was so un-repulsed, that hemasturbatedto it.
He understood it. He felt inspired. Is there any higher compliment?
Then, he almost kissed me. Finn almost kissed me.
I look over my shoulder. Rich is fast asleep beside me, up to his nose in sheets and blankets despite central heating. I wouldn’t have stayed here last night, but I’d already promised him I would. The sheer white curtains glow with morning light, the opposite of Finn’s place, which is older than this apartment, more lived in, darker. Finn doesn’t have much, but his space seems to expect clutter.
I won’t be alone again until Rich leaves for work. That’s only an hour away, but I don’t want to wait. I take my phone from the nightstand and sit up against the headboard. After pulling my hair back off my face, I check to see if Finn posted to Instagram. His username is already in my recent history from last night. There’s nothing new.
I have four minutes until the alarm, so I search hashtags for erotic photographers. The results are graphic, not artful like Finn’s work. I angle my phone completely away from Rich and try#sexypoetry. More nudies. Most photos are of actual words typed out or handwritten on scraps of paper. I scroll and scroll and scroll. Some of it isn’t bad. Some is even beautiful.
Rich wakes up with his alarm and turns over. “You’re already up?”
“I’m checking for an e-mail.”
