Date Me Like You Mean It

by Grey, R. S.

  “What are we going to say about the mirror?” he asks as he gets to work sweeping up the glass. “I don’t have a problem telling her I accidentally broke it.”

  “No, I’ll figure something out. I’m too cold to think right now though.”

  He frowns and glances up at me. “Here, let me get your shoes so you can come out and get dressed.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to crunch the glass more and make your job harder. I can wait a little while longer.”

  He nods and gets back to it, bending down to carefully sweep up the debris.

  “I still wouldn’t walk in here barefoot until we can vacuum. I’m probably not getting every last shard.”

  Good point.

  When he’s done, he empties the dustpan into the trash can under the vanity and ties off the bag so we can dispose of it in the morning.

  An hour later, we’re both lying in bed, me in my tank top and pajama shorts, Aiden in his boxers, freshly showered. We smell like the same body wash. We’re so close to touching. If I just barely shifted to the right, we’d align. So, I lie perfectly still, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. I know Aiden is still awake. We brushed our teeth, tucked ourselves into bed, and turned out the lights. “Night,” I said, and he repeated it back to me. Now here we are, silently trying to pretend the other person doesn’t exist. I should try to go to sleep, but I can’t. I’m too curious about something.

  “Psst.”

  Aiden’s head turns on his pillow.

  “What’s up?”

  I turn to face him, but it’s so dark, I can’t see him. Even with the light from the stars streaming through the thin drapery on the windows, I can’t make out where he is on the bed. So, I just talk to the blackness.

  “Earlier…when you were cleaning,” I venture quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “I asked you about the role-playing thing.”

  Chapter Eight

  Maddie

  He laughs under his breath. “I knew you wouldn’t let that go.”

  “So?” I prod.

  “So?” he mimics.

  “What are you like in bed?”

  “I don’t know. Ask yourself—you’re in bed with me right now.”

  I turn completely onto my side, toward him, propping my elbow up on my pillow and resting my head on my palm. “No, c’mon. I want to know. I mean, I’ve heard the women, so I know you’re good.”

  In the darkness, I can just barely make out him wiping his hands down his face. I don’t think he wants to be talking about this with me and I should just drop it. But…I don’t.

  “I’m not sure what you want to know.”

  Everything.

  “Let’s start with the small stuff,” I say, taking my bottom lip into my mouth. “Do you usually initiate, or do you like when your partner takes the lead?”

  “Either way. I think it’s sexy when a woman makes it clear what she wants, but on the flip side…”

  He doesn’t finish his sentence, but it’s obvious where he was headed.

  He likes control too.

  A shiver runs down my spine.

  Why am I doing this to myself? Why make it harder to live alongside Aiden? Why blur the lines? I don’t know. I’ll worry about the answers to those questions in the morning.

  “Okay, what about positions?”

  “Maddie, go to sleep.”

  “I’m curious.”

  He sighs. “I haven’t had sex in six months. I can’t even remember what I like.”

  I sit up, mouth gaping, eyes wide.

  “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Six months?!”

  “Not since my last breakup.”

  “Wow.”

  “What does that mean?” he prods.

  I shake my head, trying to rein in my shock.

  “I’m just…surprised. That’s all.”

  “Can we have this conversation in the morning?”

  I still can’t discern his facial expression in the dark, so I don’t know if he’s just a little exasperated with me (which is honestly our baseline) or really annoyed.

  I plop back down on my pillow, stare up at the ceiling, and take a deep breath, feeling slightly bad for pushing us into such an awkward conversation.

  “If it makes you feel better, I haven’t had sex in a year,” I say, squeezing my eyes closed after I eke out the confession.

  He doesn’t say anything for a really long time.

  I think he might have fallen asleep; that’s how little he cares about my sex life. To him, the information I’ve divulged is a glorified sleep aid.

  So I roll over and pretend to go to sleep too.

  Eventually he whispers my name, but I stay quiet and keep my eyes closed, ready for this weird night to be over.

  * * *

  “Up and at ’em,” a voice says from outside our door. “The sun waits for no man!”

  It’s Stephanie with a wake-up call for us, and I blink my eyes open to see that it’s very early. The sun has barely begun to rise.

  Aiden groans beside me, sits up, and then swings his legs off the bed. I glance over my shoulder to see his tan back. Muscles pull taut as he wipes sleep from his eyes, and I let my gaze fall along his shoulder blades, lower, along the curve of his spine. No love handles for this one, just a tapered waist and Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He looks back at me and I hop up to answer the door.

  Stephanie is standing outside in workout gear, wearing a huge smile.

  How is she so put together already?

  “Hurry up, we’re doing sunrise yoga.”

  Is this a joke?! What is it with everyone and sunrise yoga! What about midafternoon yoga, huh? What’s so great about the sunrise anyway?

  “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, or you don’t get any donuts afterward. Now hop to it.”

  Aiden and I dress quickly in athletic attire then set off toward the main house. When I see Stephanie, I mention those donuts she promised, but she shakes her head and prods me along the path to where the group is set up on yoga mats, all arranged in a circle around a brass bowl.

  “We’ll eat later. Yoga’s always better on an empty stomach.”

  Yes, that way everyone can listen to the grumbles coming from my hungry belly.

  “Here, you’ll sit beside Dante,” the instructor says, directing Aiden before looking back at me. “And you’ll have the spot by Stephanie so you can feed off each other’s energy.”

  Oh good. Maybe that will keep my hunger pains to a reasonable level.

  I want to hate sunrise yoga. It’s the opposite of how I usually spend my free time and it’s led by Janessa, a slow-talking child-of-the-earth type who’s dressed in loose-fitting linen pants and a tank top made from some dark cotton material, probably hemp. She tells me to close my eyes and connect with nature. At first, in a silent act of rebellion, I close my eyes and envision different types of breakfast foods: fluffy buttermilk pancakes, warm croissants, crackling bacon, yogurt parfaits. At some point, though, I run out of items on the McDonald’s breakfast menu and my mind starts to wander off in other directions. It jumps from work, to Aiden, to my sister and my parents as we move through the poses. Then, nothing really…sort of vague nothingness as if I’m floating in a zero-gravity chamber. I don’t even realize I’m actually enjoying it (not just pretending!) until Janessa starts to roll a soft mallet around the edge of the metal bowl, reawakening us for the day.

  What. The. Hell. Was. That?!

  Afterward, breakfast is served on the covered porch overlooking the pool. Aiden joins me in the buffet line.

  “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” he admits.

  “I know, right? Does this mean we’re going to start using essential oils and making our own kombucha?”

  Dante pushes in between us. “Oh my gosh, I have a great kombucha recipe I can give you guys.”

  Aiden and I exchange a private smile before continuing down the li
ne. Fortunately, the staff at the house has taken the liberty of giving us lots of options for breakfast, pretty much everything I was envisioning at the start of yoga. I take a donut and some eggs and a heaping mug of coffee over to the table.

  Stephanie beams at me as I sit down beside her. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. We have a jam-packed day ahead, so eat up.”

  She’s not lying. After we eat, we all shower and get ready to drive out to visit Donald Judd’s contemporary art museum just outside of Marfa. I had no idea the small desert town was such a mecca for artists, but as I ride in a Range Rover with Stephanie and Dante, they tell me all about it. I wish Aiden were with me, but Elliot scooped him up to talk shop and we’ve been separated ever since. Dante insists on driving into town for another round of coffee before we go to the museum, and that takes longer than expected because he and Stephanie both want to stop at a bookstore afterward.

  “Shouldn’t we meet up with the others?” I suggest.

  “There’s no rush,” Stephanie tells me, flipping over a paperback to read the synopsis on the back. “It’s not as if they need us to help them look at the art. Everyone can go at their own pace.”

  Our pace apparently involves coffee, then the bookstore, then a high-end clothing boutique. How do I know it’s high-end? Because there are only twenty things in the entire shop. Each item is spaced out so you can see the front and back of the garment.

  I make the mistake of glancing at the price tag on a skirt hand-sewn by artists from Avignon, France, and have a heart attack.

  “I’ll be outside,” I say, as Dante and Stephanie gush over a dress.

  Sitting out on the curb, I look down at my phone, but I don’t have any signal, so there’s no use in trying to warn Aiden that I won’t be at the museum any time soon.

  I feel horrible for abandoning him. He’s only here as a favor to me. What if he’s really annoyed with me?!

  * * *

  “I’m a little drunk.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Sorry. I won’t say it again.” I lock my lips and toss away the key. Then a second later, I forget my promise: “They just kept buying me drinks and I didn’t want to be rude.”

  I’m lying on the bed in our room after dinner. At least, I think it’s after dinner. I’m not sure Stephanie, Dante, and I ever ate dinner. After leaving the boutique, we found this little bar in a hotel, and their drinks were so good and so cheap and Dante and Stephanie are fun! And wow, can they hold their alcohol. I…cannot.

  “I told Stephanie about the mirror, and she thought it was hilarious. Telling her while we were tipsy was probably a good idea. Did you like the museum?” I ask, angling my head so I can look at him upside down. He’s sitting on one of the lounge chairs in our room, typing on his laptop. I wonder what he’s writing about.

  Me, probably.

  Roses are red, violets are blue. I love Maddie, just like I always knew.

  “Truthfully, not really.”

  Oh no, I knew he was going to have a bad day. I feel worse for leaving him. I snap my fingers, having come up with a brilliant idea.

  “Let’s go swimming!” I say, sitting up.

  My head spins with the sudden movement.

  “Now?”

  “Yes! C’mon, wouldn’t it be so fun?”

  “What about everyone else?” he asks, glancing at the door.

  “We’ll be quiet. Come on, live a little, Aiden Smith!”

  He doesn’t get a choice in the matter because I’m already fluttering around the room collecting things I think we’ll need: towels, sunscreen, shoes. I hold it all up to prove to him how serious I am about swimming.

  He takes the sunscreen out of my hands. “It’s nighttime—no sun.”

  “Right-o.”

  “And that’s one of your shoes and one of mine.”

  “Oh.”

  I drop it all back onto the bed.

  He laughs and shakes his head before heading for the door. “We don’t need all that. Let’s go.”

  Now he’s the one in charge, walking ahead, out of our room and down the concrete path toward the pool. I’m worried everyone will be able to see us, but it’s later than I thought and I think most of the group is sleeping. I look around at the bungalows and notice drapes drawn shut. The main house’s lights are off, and there’s nothing but the sound of crickets and cicadas to keep us company. It’s not as hot as I thought it’d be, and when I dip my toe in the pool, I find it’s been temperature regulated.

  Aiden wastes no time tugging off his shirt. I look over and watch him do it. The moon emphasizes the contours of his body, casting some in light and others in shadow. He tosses the shirt back onto a lounger then starts to push down his shorts. Black boxer briefs are the last thing left, and he leaves them on.

  He stops and looks over at me. “Undress, Maddie.”

  My body responds right away as if Aiden is in control of my brain now. I start to lift my shirt up over my head. It gets caught on my ponytail for a second and I make a sound of distress—like an animal caught in a snare—before Aiden’s hands deftly lift it up and over my head. He tosses it over onto the lounger with his shirt.

  We’ve never undressed like this, in front of each other. Alone.

  Sure, we’ve gone swimming with friends in Barton Springs or lounged at our building’s pool, but this feels markedly different.

  “Your shorts,” he says, keeping his green eyes on me.

  I unbutton and push them far enough that they can slip down the rest of the way on their own. I kick them aside and glance at my panties. They don’t match my bra. They’re black, and my bra is a pale pink. I wonder what Aiden thinks. I wonder if he even cares. When I glance back up, he’s looking at me in the soft moonlight.

  Something burns behind his gaze. There’s fire in the green depths.

  “Is this a good idea?” I ask. All my enthusiasm has gone up in smoke since we left the bungalow. Suddenly this doesn’t feel like fun and games anymore.

  Aiden’s mouth hitches up on one side. “Live a little, Maddie Lane,” he says, throwing my words back at me.

  Then he walks backward toward the deep end of the pool. I think he’s going to step back, right into the water, but at the last moment, he turns and dives in. He disappears under the surface and stays there as his body blurs beneath the depths. He spans the length of the pool, all the way to the other side, and then reemerges like a sea monster lurking in the dark.

  “I suppose you think I’m going to get in just like that? Well, I have news for you: I never learned how to dive, so I’m just going to get in the old-fashioned way,” I say, curving around the edge of the pool toward the shallow steps. I take them one at a time, watching my footing, all the while knowing Aiden’s eyes are on me.

  It’s so quiet now. I’ve become habituated to the noise of the desert, so all I notice is the soft sound of my feet splashing in the water. Down I go until the water rises up over my calves and waist and stomach. My chest goes under and then all of me, submerged as I swim over to where Aiden is.

  I pop up closer to him than I was expecting and try to tread water, but with the drinks in my system and my general lack of swimming expertise, I have to reach for the side of the pool almost immediately.

  Aiden doesn’t. He floats in place and stays quiet, glancing up at the stars overhead.

  He’s in a mood tonight.

  Maybe he’s annoyed with me for leaving him all day. Maybe he’s annoyed with me for bringing him out here altogether. Either way, I can’t stand it.

  “Are you upset with me?” I ask gently.

  His attention sweeps down from the sky and falls on me like a weighted blanket. I’d drown if I wasn’t holding on to the edge.

  “No.”

  But that one word said in a gruff tone doesn’t convince me.

  “You’re upset about something.”

  “I don’t think upset is the right word,” he says, narrowing his eyes in thought.

  “Then what is it?�
��

  He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

  He ducks back under the water and swims away to the other side, then back to me, then back again. He comes up for air, but not for long, and then he’s back to swimming laps. It’s like he’s trying to work off steam, but I’m getting annoyed.

  He reaches the deep end again and I swim toward him, blocking his path. He doesn’t realize I’m there when he turns to kick off the wall, colliding into me with more strength than I was expecting. The top of his head hits my stomach and I expel an audible oof. He reaches for me as I start to struggle to swim.

  “Shit,” he says, his hand gripping hold of my upper arm. “Are you okay?”

  “God that hurt,” I moan, wanting to wrap my arm around my stomach. I can’t until Aiden gets me back to the wall. He helps me grab the ledge and I try to suck in a deep breath, but it hurts my stomach too much.

  “Here, get out. We shouldn’t be swimming,” he says, grabbing my waist so he can hoist me up and over the edge.

  I’m not in a position to protest, so I let him push me out of the water, and then once I’m back on the concrete ledge, I roll over onto my back and lie down. My knees still dangle over into the pool, my calves half-submerged in the warm water. The concrete on my back feels good. It’s been heating up in the sun all day, and that heat pours into me. The pain in my stomach lessens. I know it’s nothing serious, but Aiden’s intent on checking up on me anyway.

  He climbs out of the pool, dripping water onto my body as he hovers over me.

  “Are you okay?”

  I close my eyes. “Peachy.”

  “Why’d you get in my way like that?”

  His tone rankles me. “I was just trying to get you to stop moving for a second.”

  His hand touches my abdomen and I flinch.

  “I’m just trying to figure out if I really hurt you,” he explains.

  I take my bottom lip into my mouth and don’t say a word. The truth is, he has hurt me. Living with him for two years under the guise of friendship has hurt, and the wounds are much worse than what he just did to me in the water.