Page 14 of Ten Day Affair
Arden snorts. "Yeah, well. New York might be far, but that glow on your face isn't casual. That’s danger dick glow."
"God. I hope no one else can read my face as well as you can."
"So, does that mean until he sells, you might indulge in more of that manna?" Arden asks playfully.
I shrug, tugging my hair into a low knot. “Maybe I letmyself enjoy it. Occasional, meaningless sex between consenting adults isn’t exactly scandalous.”
“Exactly.” She nods, satisfied. “Get yours, Doctor Taylor.”
I toss a pillow at her and stand. “Got any actual food in here, or just overpriced champagne and twelve varieties of mustard?”
“Check the pastry box from Boulangerie,” she calls, unfazed. “Second shelf.”
I swing open the fridge, letting the cool air hit my face. It helps. A little. Inside: fancy cheese I can’t pronounce, three half-empty bottles of bubbly, and what I’m guessing is yesterday’s takeout arranged in glass containers like a Pinterest ad.
I spot the white pastry box and grab it, along with the open bottle of Pinot. My phone buzzes just as I set everything on the counter.
Hey, it’s Cole. Got your number from the staff room—hope that’s okay. Still thinking about that lounge chair. Might have to look into getting that set for my patio. Thanks for the warm neighborhood welcome.
Heat spreads through my chest. I reread the words three times, picturing him typing them. Is he at his house? Sitting just yards away from where we...
I bite my lower lip, finger hovering over the screen. What's the right move here? Casual response? Flirty comeback? No response at all?
"What are you smiling at?" Arden shouts from the couch. "If you found my chocolate stash, I will end you!"
"It's him," I call back, still staring at his message.
"What?!" The sound of Arden scrambling off her couch reaches the kitchen.
"Him! Hot neighbor acrobat in a suit."
"Does he want round two?"
"He just mentioned the cushions."
"If he texts again, marry him or run. No in between!" She flops back down with a dramatic sigh.
I lean against the counter, thumbs poised above the screen. My mind replays two nights ago—his hands gripping my hips, lifting me onto him. The shocking intimacy of eye contact as he entered me. The way his mouth traveled down my neck, between my breasts...
I shiver, despite the warmth of Arden’s kitchen.
I shake it off and join her. I can't do this right now.
We polish off the bottle of Pinot and fall into our usual routine of bad TV, snack raids, and easy laughter. It's been the kind of post-twelve-hour shift I needed.
But even with Arden filling the space, part of me stays somewhere else.
Later, at home, I slip onto my bed, the mattress sinking under my weight. After three glasses of wine, my body hums with a pleasant buzz. I'm just loose enough to quiet the hospital voices in my head.
The ocean’s rhythmic pulse drifts through the cracked window in my bedroom. In, out. Rise, fall.
I wonder if Cole hears the same waves next door. I wonder if he’s even still here. I didn’t notice lights on, but I did see him at the hospital earlier.
My free hand slides across my stomach, tracing lazy circles on my skin. The sheet beneath me feels cool against my bare legs.
The fan overhead clicks softly, but it’s not enough to cool the heat crawling over my skin.
My hand skims my stomach, then lower. The sheet catches between my knees as I shift, restless. I’m still sore from the other night, a further reminder of him inside ofme. A dull, throbbing ache that somehow makes me want more.
