Page 1 of October
CHAPTER 1
“We shouldn’t have done this,” Finley said.
“We didn’t do anything. We just slept,” India replied.
“In the same bed. We’re not together anymore, India.”
“We’re always kind of together,” India noted, wrapping an arm over Finley’s middle. “We talked for hours, Fin. That has to mean something.”
“It means we had things to talk about because we just broke up,” Finley said, moving to get out of bed. “And I need to shower. You can go whenever.”
“I can’t shower here?”
“No, you can’t, India. We got a little drunk on that wine you brought, and I didn’t want you to drive home, but you should’ve slept on the sofa.”
“The sofa has those springs,” India said as she sat up in bed. “Where are you going?” she asked when Finley walked into the bathroom and closed the door a little.
“I told you, I’m taking a shower.”
She pulled off her T-shirt and tossed it onto the floor of the bedroom through the door.
“You can’t take off your clothes out here? I’ve seen you naked, Fin. I’ve touched every part of your body a thousand times.”
“India, come on… We’re not together anymore. That means I don’t see you naked, and you don’t see me naked.”
“Fine. I just think it’s ridiculous. It doesn’t mean we’re going to have sex. It’s just a shower.”
“You can shower at your place.”
“I left my shampoo here. Can I just shower after you?”
Not having the energy to fight about it, Finley turned on the water and replied, “Whatever. Fine. I’m leaving when I’m ready, though, so if you take an hour-long shower, lock up when you go.”
“Of course, I will. When have I evernotlocked your apartment when I left?”
“You still have my key, India.” Finley pulled open the door and stood there shirtless, with only a pair of sweats on, no longer caring about the naked thing. “I have yours, too. I’ll leave it on the table before I go.”
“Just keep it,” India said before she stood and walked over to her, reaching for the hem of the T-shirt that wasn’t borrowed from Finley because India still had a lot of stuff here, despite the fact that they’d broken up again.
“Don’t,” she told her, gripping the doorknob until her knuckles went white, but she said it so softly, she wasn’t sure that India had heard it or that if she had, it would convince her to keep her clothes on.
Finley hadn’t ever been able to resist India. The woman was sophistication on two feet, and she even looked like that when she woke up after staying up late talking about their failed relationship for the millionth time, and when she was slightly hungover, which, Finley guessed, she was right now. If India took her clothes off, they would get into the shower together, and she knew what would happen next. India would kiss her slowly at first. Then, she’d press Finley up against the shower wall, and seconds later, Finley would be coming at her touch. India wouldpush Finley’s head down, and she’d make India come with her mouth. Then, India would declare them back together as she made Finley come a second time. She’d leave the shower and tell Finley that she would see her at work.
It had happened before, too many times to count. Finley had begun to wonder if this was going to be her life. Were they the kind of couple that would always get back together? Would they just fight and hate each other for several weeks in a row, try to get some separation, and only find their way back to one another for hot sex that would lead them back together because it never felt that way with anyone else?
They couldn’t be more different, and Finley supposed that was part of the problem. India was an executive who had come from old money. Finley worked in IT and had only just been promoted when her manager had left the company and she’d gotten his old job. She’d grown up poor in Kentucky before moving to New Orleans for this job, and she and India had been doing this on-and-off dance ever since. Finley loved sports. India was more the ballet and opera type, who could go to an upscale bar but didn’t like the ones in the Quarter frequented by tourists. Finley felt like she didn’t fit in wherever India felt comfortable, and she knew the opposite was true as well.
“Babe, come on,” India said as she pulled off her shirt. “It’s just a shower. We’ll get cleaned up and go to work. I can drive you, if you want. I know your car is in the shop.”
“I got it back last night,” she said. “Also, don’t call me ‘babe’ anymore, India.” She closed the door between them, feeling proud of herself in that moment. “And put your damn shirt back on.”
“You took yours off first,” India argued.
“Mistake,” she said. “I’m getting in. Donotfollow me.”
“Fine. I’ll just go,” India replied. “I guess I’ll see you at work.”
“Good. Yeah, okay. Bye,” she said.
