Page 72 of You Spin Me

JESS

When Cal returns, he doesn’t say what it was that he forgot. It’s too cold to stand around outside talking, so I let him wrap his scarf around my head and neck before hustling us both to the bar, where he picks up bags of to-go containers, and then back to his place, where he hands me Blondie’s leash again. “If you could feed the pets, I’ll be back before you know it.” He pulls a manila envelope out from under his jacket. “This is for you. Make yourself comfortable.”

Coming from most of the guys I’ve dated, that would meanI expect you’ll be in bed naked and primed for sex by the time I get back from this errand that’s more important than you.I’m still not sure what happened between us this morning, but I’m really hoping Cal means… what he said.

I do wonder if I’m supposed to open the envelope.

When I step inside the apartment, Cash appears out of nowhere to wind around my ankles. With his black fur and quiet paws, he’d be very sneaky if his yowls weren’t so loud. I pick him up and carry him to the kitchen. Neither animal waits patiently while I find their food and dish it out, but we manage. Once that’s done, I settle on the couch with a blanket around my shoulders, still not sure what to do with the envelope.

A yawn takes over my face, so I get up to pace around the apartment in an effort to stay awake. Sifting through the albums, I reason that if I put some music on low, I probably won’t wake the neighbors.

Music playing softly, I take advantage of the open space of Cal’s loft. Slipping in and out of shafts of moonlight streaming through oversized windows, I make myself comfortable the way I know best.

CAL

Part of me feels bad for hurrying through my visits with the homeless guys, but at the same time, Walt seemed happy that I trusted him to distribute the meal to the other camp as well as his own. Thing is, now that I’m back, standing outside my own apartment, I’m not sure what I was thinking.

I want her. More, I want her to want me, even though the idea defies all logic.

Snuffling noises from Blondie interrupt my brooding. If I don’t open the door quickly, she’ll wake up the artist who lives in the loft downstairs.

When I do, it’s awfully nice to be greeted by music playing softly and a feminine scent filling the air.

“Jess?” I call softly. “I’m back.”

“I’m here.” Gliding in and out of shadows, her hips sway languidly.

As I step closer, I see that she’s got someone in her arms. “Are you dancing with my cat?”

She giggles. “He likes it.”

“That cat doesn’t like anything.” Guess she’s got him under her spell too. After shucking off my outer layers, I move in on my cat. “May I cut in?”

He yowls in protest when I remove him from her arms, but her smile lights up the entire apartment. “But of course.”

“I’m not much of a dancer, but I think I might be on par with the cat.”

After she places my right hand at her waist and the other in her right, we sway back and forth, grinning goofily at each other. I’m not sure how I managed to get her back in my arms, but I’ll take it. “Does this really count as dancing?”

“It’s way better than cotillion, I’ll tell you that.” There’s a dreamy quality to her voice that I haven’t heard before.

“What’s cotillion?”

“A way to torture hormone-drunk junior high school boys and girls.”

“Ah. I didn’t do that.”

“You didn’t miss much.”

“Did the boys get to do this?” I brush my lips behind her ear, eliciting a surprisingly guttural moan.

“Uh-uh.”

“Poor kids. What about this?” Brushing my lips across her brow, I draw a teasing caress across her lower back.

“Nope,” she whispers as she trails her lips along my right jaw, landing a hairsbreadth from my lips. “Or this.”

And finally, we’re kissing again. I’ve been thinking about getting my lips back on hers all fucking day. Hell, I could kiss her for the rest of my days.

---