“Mail merging invitations for my mom’s wedding,” he says. “Now I’m on the couch with a cat.”
“Sounds cozy.”
“It is.” There’s another pause. I can hear him shift, take a breath, and then: “I’ve got on those pants you like.”
I stop kicking my feet. “Uh,” I say.
“The slutty ones,” he clarifies. “Just thought you should know.”
“Okay,” I say, now bright red in Ben’s kitchen. I’m pretty sure I should say something besidesOkay, but I’m not really sure what. “Thank you for that information.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. “Would you like any more?”
I would like alotof information, and I have no idea how to ask for any of it. I would like pictures and sound and possibly a full-length feature film of said information, but that seems unreasonable.
“Yes. Why are you wearing…those…pants?”
“They’re comfortable. I didn’t realize you were going to be at someone else’s house, though, so maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”
What Ishoulddo is get off the phone and go watch this movie, because the wedding is in a little under a month, and that’s not that long. Really, it’s not.
What Iactuallydo is take a deep breath and say, “No, I think you should keep talking to me,” and he laughs, deep and relaxed and throaty. I feel like it rolls down my spine.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says, and noshit, I just requested this—of course I’d like it. “Remember the time you fucked me while your friend was on the phone?”
My face goes instantly hotter, and I glance at the door as if the people on the other side can hear. “Of course I remember that. It was memorable,” I say. “She forgave me, by the way.”
“You told her?”
“Yeah, like a year later. I felt too guilty. She laughed and then gave me a high five.”
“God, I remember how desperate you were for it,” he says, and I have to shut my eyes in embarrassment or arousal or some mixture of the two. “Even though you’d already come once. Your friends all think you’re nice, don’t they?”
“Iamnice.” My voice is low, not quite whispering. “I’m a nice person, Javi.”
“Do they know howgoodyou are?”
I swallow, then clear my throat. “Of course,” I say as evenly as I can.
“Like I do?”
Jesus, no one else knowsthat. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Liar,” he says, and I can tell he’s grinning. “Do they know how well you follow instructions? I bet your couch is still spotless.”
“My couch is fine.”
“Are you thinking about getting fucked on it right now?”
I roll my eyes and glance at the door to the living room. Vague action movie noises are still coming from behind it. “Fuck you, I amnow.”
“Tell me.”
It’s vivid, suddenly. Down to the velvet on my bare skin and the low, moody light from my mermaid lamp. I lock my ankles together and squeeze my thighs, gripping the edge of the counter in one hand.
“I’m, like, ten feet away from Benandhis roommateand?—”
“You said there was a door,” he says, like that’s reasonable. “They’re watching this movie, they don’t know. Come on. Are you on your back or your hands and knees?”
