Shrugging, she adds, “Because we’re not going to actually touch each other anyway.”
“Because we’ll each stay on our own sides.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s settled,” she says, picking up her glass. “Because I was feeling really guilty about leaving your stuff outside.”
“Hey, there’s no way you could help it, right? It was already soaked before you knew it was raining.”
A guilty look crosses her face, but she says, “Yup,” in a high-pitched voice. “That’s how it happened.”
“I’m sure it is,” I tell her, having another bite of food. I sit and eat the rest of my dinner, humming with excitement, knowing that she one-hundred-percent left my things out in the rain on purpose. And her purpose was to get me into bed.
18
Straight From the Hip…
Paige
I laywide awake under the light of a small bedside lamp, listening to the sound of Mac brushing his teeth in the bathroom across the hall. He’s also humming a little tune, which is both sort of endearing and terrifying at the same time. Endearing because it’s a happy song, which means he’s happy to be here, which I have to assume means he’s no longer annoyed by my ‘high-maintenance’ self (which I’m not). Although that may not be accurate. I did give him a hefty portion of vodka, so it could be that he’s feeling good because of that, and that alone.
It’s terrifying because what if he’s picking up what I’m putting down and he’s actually going to make a move? In my fantasies, it would be an earth-moving, toe-curling, rocking good time, but the reality might be totally different. After all, I get the feeling he’s done this a lot, and he knows all the moves, whereas, I’ve had limited (and disappointing) results in the bedroom, and as I’m lying here under the sheet, waiting for him to come to bed (come to bed? Gah!),I’m suddenly freaking out. What if the reason the sex was bad was because I’m just bad at it? What if we get started and I screw it up and it’s horrible and awkward and he never wants to go near me again and we’re stuck here for another twenty-five years just trying to avoid eye contact.
Why? Why did I leave his things in the rain?Stupid, Paige. Stupid.
Now I’m also rethinking my choice of sleepwear, a pajama set I got for free when we did a campaign for Nordstrom, consisting of a pair of satin shorts and a tank top in a light pink with a lacy trim. It’s the sexiest thing I own, and after a couple of iced teas, I felt brave enough to throw it on, but now that he’s about to stroll in here and get into this bed—which I suddenly realize is teeny tiny—I think I’d be better off in an oversized t-shirt and baggy pants. That would send the message that I meant what I said and we’re just here to get a good night’s rest. Whereas this outfit makes it look like I’m trying too hard. As if I planned the whole thing, which I have a feeling he suspects already anyway based on that little smirk he’s been wearing all evening.
I should change. Really quickly before he comes in. Do I have time? I don’t think I have time!
I stop breathing, trying to hear what he’s doing just in case it helps me to figure out how long he’ll be.
Oh my God, what am I doing?
If I’m going to change out of these come-hither pajamas, I need to act now, before it’s too late.
I throw off the sheet and hop over to my suitcase, which is laying in the far corner of the room. Rifling through it, I find a big tee with a picture of Bugs Bunny and the words, “That’s all folks! Time to sleep!” on it. Yes! Very unsexy.
I continue digging around until I see my yoga pants.Too tight. They’ll keep me up all night. What can I wear for bottoms? Heart pounding. Dig, dig, dig. Listen for the bathroom door opening. Dig, dig, dig.Why is there nothing?!
Okay, calm down. Just change your shirt and jump back into bed. The shorts aren’t a big deal.I rip my tank top off and toss it in the suitcase, only to hear the bathroom door open. Gah! NO!!!!! He’s going to see me!
I fumble with the t-shirt, but it’s too late—the bedroom door swings open and I’m standing in the corner topless. I manage to hold the shirt in front of my chest, not knowing how much he saw, but based on the look on his face, I’m guessing it was an eyeful. Maybe two. Shit. Well, that backfired. So much for being modest. “Oh, whoops!” I let out a chuckle.Shoot me now.“I was just too … hot in my other top.” As in too hot to trot.
“Sorry, I should’ve knocked,” he says, his eyes sweeping over me. “I just assumed you’d be asleep already and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“No, it’s all good. I’m wide awake,” I tell him with a little shrug. “So, anyhoo, I should finish putting this on.”
“Right,” he says with a nod. “Just call when you’re ready for me.” He winces, then says, “To come in. When you’re ready for me to come in.”
He quickly closes the door behind him and I shut my eyes for a second, trying to block out the embarrassment coursing through me. I tug Bugs over my head and hop over to the bed. After I climb in, I make sure I’m as far to the edge of the bed as possible and pull the sheet up to my chin. “Okay, it’s safe to come in now!”
Oh yeah, you are so not having sex with that sexy, sexy man. Not tonight. Not ever. Which is probably a good thing, for all of the aforementioned reasons, including me being crap in the sack. Well, maybe. I actually have no idea.
Mac opens the door again, shirtless as promised, and I can tell he’s trying not to grin as he crosses the small room. He turns away and sits down, the bed dipping under the weight of his body. Then he lifts his legs and slides them under the sheet. Everything he does is swift and purposeful, and makes me want to roll onto my side to face him, then reach over and run my fingertips up and down his arm. But I don’t. Instead, I carefully reach as little of my right arm out from under the covers as possible to shut off the lamp. Then I lay here, listening to the silence that grows louder each second that neither of us speaks.
It’s as if we both are suddenly keenly aware of what a mistake this was. We don’t know each other. Not well, anyway. And this could be a turning point, a pivotal moment for us, only it’s a pivot we shouldn’t make. But I really, really,reallywant to pivot. With every red-hot cell in my body. My hands are itching to reach out and touch him. My lady business is calling to me, “Get it, girl. This is the best idea you’ve ever had!”
Say something, idiot. Anything. No, not anything. Something smart. Sassy. Sexy. Fun. Brilliant. Ooh, that’s way too much pressure. “Umm, well, thanks so much for all your hard work today with our ad campaign.”
