Page 21 of Man Hands
Goddamn it. I want to lick those lips. I want his lips to lick my lips.Bothsets!
Great. Now I’mthrobbing.
“Iwouldbe an academic, if I had a job,” I say, clearing my throat. “We can’t all have a glam TV job. Sorry. I’m not very exciting.Ortall.”
He leans forward slowly, and I have to lean in too. Then he whispers, “You are plenty tall. You wrapped your legs around mejustfine.”
And then I faint. I go stiff as a board and fallrightover.
Okay. Not actually. But internally, I’m agoner.
I take a dainty sip of my drink. Unfortunately, it’s empty so it makes a slurpy noise, and because I’ve already started slurping, I just keep on slurping so I look like I did it all on purpose. Because I’m smooth like that. Silky. Also, I’m an idiot. I can’t smile and be sexy and fake it ’til we make it. I can’t carry on the charade. Now that we both have our clothes on, he’s going to see me as the divorced, jobless loser thatIam.
“So, what do you do outside of your field?” He reaches for me with one big Man Hand and tilts my chin so I’m looking at him. The move is very BBC Miniseries. For a second I’m trapped in his chocolatey gaze and everythingisokay.
Except he’s waiting for an answer. And, goddamn it. How do I tell him I’ve been too depressed to look for a real job so I mostly sit around the house, make dips and balls and logs and post itonmy—
“Blog!” I say. Actually, I sort of shout it. What a stupid word. Blog. Blogblogblog. “I blog!” Why? Why am I shouting? It’s like I suddenly have Tourette’s. And you shouldn’t joke aboutTourette’s.
“You make a living at that?” He means blogging. Not Tourette’s. He sounds either impressed or confused.Maybeboth.
“I didn’t at first. But now it’s starting to take off. It helps my bottom line. I have a little nest egg from…” That word I can barely say. “Mydivorce. I’m working hard on the blog while I send out résumés to English departments.” I should send out those résumés, anyway. But I’ve been waiting for my self-esteem to get up off the floor. “I try out recipes, write about food, take pictures. I’ve got three cookbooks now. I’m working on the fourth. I can do it from home, and I have an excuse to eat bacon. Not like I need an excuse, because, hello,bacon.”
He laughs. It’s a real laugh. It’s warmandrich.
When he smiles at me, I forget for a second that he’s out of my league. When he looks at me that way, I could almost become the fun, confident person he must think I am. “You want to arm wrestle?” I ask. Or maybe it’s the empty mai tai that’sasked.
He shrugs. “Okay.” He leans forward and puts his elbow on the table. I lean forward after settling my boobs on the edge of the table (they’re heavy, okay?) and wrap my hand around his. He has the manliest hands I’ve ever come into contact with, and I instantly have an orgasm. It’s a small one, so I’m able to keep it together. Then we lock eyes and everything in the room quiets. “On three,” hesays. “One—”
I slam hishanddown.
See? I can playdirty.
I smile. He smiles. And then Steven walks inthedoor.
Fucking. A.Steven.
Why do I even care? Why do I care that he strolls in all happy and puffed up like a strutting peacock with that…that girl on his arm. Why do I care? He doesn’t have my heart anymore. Or my vows. He doesn’t even have access to my bank account. We’re as over as overcanbe.
And that’s what it is. That’s the thing that’s getting me. Six months ago, we shared the same life. I knew where he was every minute of the day, could tell you what he’d wear one day to the next. I could tell by the way he said hello to me if he wanted to have sex. Answer: never. We shared the same life! And now he’s astranger.
Those tearsagain.
“Hey,” Tom says, softly. Then again, “Hey.” I realize we’re still holdinghands.
“That’s my ex.” I say and do a jerky little head-nod thing. “I don’t love him anymore. I don’t even care that he’s here. It’s just…” I don’t finish the sentence because I don’t know what to finish the sentence with. All of a sudden, I don’t need to because Tom has leaned across the table and he kisses me. It’s lovely and soft and awkward, so he breaks the kiss, stands up, walks over to me, pulls me up and then kisses meproperly.
I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or because he can tell Steven is watching us, but suddenly I don’t careanymore.
I may have been invisible to my ex, but this man, this man right here, heseesme.
When he pulls away, I’m smiling. For a few reasons. 1) The throbbing. 2) Because now he’s ordering appetizers. And 3) When I look at Steve to sort of flaunt my hotness and my hot man kissing me, I realize it wasn’t Steve at all, but somestranger.
Huh.
15NakedSkydiving
Tom
