“That's a good way to keep the monsters out.” John leans forward and lightly tugs on one of the braids I watched Aubrey weave into Claire's hair thismorning.
Aubrey holds out a hand. “Let’s go, little one. Peanut butter and apples await you.” They walk inside, and I hear Aubrey tell Claire to wash up before sheeats.
John stands and I follow suit. He extends ahand.
As I’m shaking it, he says “Don't forget to clean out the lint trap in the dryer, Isaac, or she'll come after you too.” He laughs to himself and walksinside.
For me, the funny part is that I'm seriously considering forgetting, just so Aubrey will come after me. Because I want herto.
And that gives me anidea.
Ikeep trying notto think of last night, I keep telling myself it would’ve been just another hour. Meant nothing. But the problem is that I'm spending so much more than one hour thinking about it. I can still feel his five o’clock shadow scraping across my stomach, my body catching a fire of desire andurgency.
That's one of the reasons I felt relieved when we walked into my dad's house and I saw how messy it was. Putting myself to work helped me separate from my thoughts. The other reason was that it made me feel needed. It was nice to walk in and see the effect of us livingapart.
Now we're back at Isaac's place.Ourplace. And I'm still cleaning because I have no idea what else to do. Why can’t there be some kind of instruction manual for awkward situations likethese?
I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, folding Claire's laundry, when Isaac taps on my door. I know it's him because Claire's taking a nap. And because she hasn't yet mastered the fine art ofknocking.
“Hey," I callout.
The door opens, and Isaac steps in. Immediately my neck feels hot. I don't know if he knows how incredibly good-looking he is. Is it the eyebrows? The chocolate eyes? Those full lips, the lower one in a perpetual pout. Or is it hissmile?
It may be a mix of everything, but that smile has them all beat. I really, really like when hesmiles.
“Are you running a covert operation in here?" he asks, his tone teasing. The door closes behind him, and he leans againstit.
I lay a pair of shorts on the stack, ignoring the heat starting up in other places. “No,why?"
“Because you closed the door to foldlaundry."
“I thought maybe you'd like some alone time. We spent the day at my dad's, so I just thought..." Doesn't everybody like alone time? The way Isaac's looking at me now, I'm guessing hedoesn’t.
“I'm good, Aubrey. I mean, I do like alone time." He comes forward, stopping when his knees are flush with the bed. He reaches over, one finger tracing my collarbone, which is exposed thanks to my tank top. “I like alone time that I spend withyou."
I freeze, one of Claire’s shirts in my clutch. My breath is shallow, desire slamming through me like a freight train. Swallowing hard, I force myself to knock it off. “Isaac, last nightwas—”
“Don’t sayit.”
I take a deep breath and unfold my legs, rising so I'm on my knees on the bed. My movement knocks Isaac's magical finger off my skin, giving me the break I need. Distanced from his touch, I can think moreclearly.
“A mistake.” I finish my sentence anyway. “Our situation is messy enough without bringing sex into it.” I have to focus to keep my thoughts from straying onto memories of how close it came to that. “And definitely no more tequila for me." I smile as I say it, trying to lighten mymessage.
Isaac nods slowly, his lips pushed out. “Right, the tequila. I thought you'd mention that part ofit."
“It's kind of hard not to. We’ve slept together once, it almost happened last night, and both times there was alcohol involved." I look at himpointedly.
“Is that what you think this is? Beergoggles?"
“Beer goggles implies something else. Misguided level of attractiveness. This..." I gesture from me to him, and back again, realizing I have no idea how to categorize us. “That first hour we used like a Band-Aid. Last night… It was an itch. One we almost scratched. You wanted to see the body that housed your daughter. I wanted to recapture the feeling of being with aman."
Isaac’s eyebrows lift. “That'sit?"
“Yes." I say it with confidence I don't feel. A nagging feeling sits in my core, gnawing at me. It's best to ignore it. Caring for someone other than my dad, Britt, and Claire has only brought mesorrow.
“So, is that what you want us to be to one another? A collection of hours?" His lips twist as he reaches for me again, this time to brush my hair back from myface.
“One hour is not a collection." My argument is weakened by my voice. It's shaky,soft.
