I knew then, as he kissed me, that I would spend my life with him. Doing everything. Talking, laughing, dreaming, traveling, sleeping, having sex…
I kept my arms wrapped around his neck as he stumbled over tothe table with me and leaned me back on top of it, lost in our passion. Our bodies were inflamed, we couldn’t hold back, we were lost in each other, and then…
And then the bells rang, sounding sharper than I remembered them. I’d forgotten to lock the door. We sat up and tried to arrange ourselves as best we could.
“Excuse me, are you open?”
A woman was gawking at us, seeming to realize she hadn’t picked the ideal moment to come in. Trying not to crack up, embarrassed, I told her, “Sorry. We’re, uh…we’re doing some renovations. We’ll be open next week.”
“Thanks. I’ll come back then.” She turned around, but then paused, and added, “Sorry to interrupt you.”
Before I could answer, the bells rang again and we were alone. Trey broke into cackles, deep and forceful, that echoed through the bookstore.
“You think she’ll really be back?”
“I hope so,” I said.
“It’s dinnertime. You want to come over?”
“Sure,” I said. I wanted to know everything about him, wanted to use each moment with him to discover something, and what is more personal and intimate than someone’s home? It’s a reflection of who we are, and it shows our identity in a way few other things can.
On the way there, I recited briefly what all I’d done that day, mainly reading and correcting manuscripts. I told him the stories in all the books, the parts I’d liked, the parts I thought didn’t work. How bad I felt for marking mistakes or making suggestions, because I wasn’t sure that I knew enough or mattered enough to tell other writers how to do their jobs.
“I don’t know much, but it seems to me a degree in literature and creative writing plus two years working at a publisher—plus the factthat you’re a writer yourself—qualifies you to make those kinds of judgments.”
As we walked, I could feel him glancing over at me, and I did the same—trying not to catch his eye and failing. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder affectionately, pulled me toward him, squeezed me. “We’re here,” he said, pointing to a tall, narrow Victorian house with a stone exterior and a turret on the right corner that made it look like a castle.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Architecturally speaking, it’s a masterpiece. It’s one of the oldest buildings in this neighborhood, but it’s very well preserved.” We walked up the stone steps to the door, which he opened for me. “Ladies first,” he said.
The interior was nothing like what I’d imagined. It was open, like a loft, and the decor was modern. There were no walls separating the dining room, living room, and kitchen, and the room felt gigantic and free. A wooden staircase climbed to the second floor.
“I can’t believe this place, Trey.”
“Thanks. Unfortunately, it’s not mine. It belongs to a friend who’s living in Europe. I take care of it and he rents it to me for next to nothing. I’m sorry to say the fridge isn’t well stocked, but I’m sure we can whip up something nice. Will you help me?”
I nodded, removing my purse and tossing it onto the sofa. Then I froze. A gigantic dog had appeared at the top of the stairs. It was gray with white spots, and its golden eyes were glaring at me. It must have been Sisuei. I gulped. He was much bigger than I’d imagined.
“Relax,” Trey said behind me. “He’s chill, he’s a regular gentleman. He won’t even come down till I tell him. You want to meet him?”
“I think so?”
“Sisuei, come.”
The dog trotted down and jumped up on his back legs, trying to lick Trey’s face. Then he turned to me. He sniffed me, walked in a circle, and sat down, staring at me with curiosity. Then he groaned and bumped my hand with his nose.
“He’s waiting for you to pet him.”
“For real?” I asked.
“Yeah. He loves to be scratched behind the ears. You’re lucky. He usually ignores everyone.”
“You probably tell all the girls that. Do you take him for walks in the park when you’re looking for a hookup?”
With a seductive look, he walked over, put his hands on my hips, and said, “First of all, you’re the only girl I’ve officially introduced him to. And second of all, Sisuei doesn’t know how to fake his feelings. He always shows his true colors.”
I crouched down, not quite trusting the dog, and stretched out my hand to pat his enormous head. His hair was a little stiff on the ends, but soft and woolly underneath if you sank your fingers into it.
