Date Me Like You Mean It

by Grey, R. S.

  We turn another corner and his hand leaves mine to grip the wheel. I watch his face as my hand stays on him, moving. The line of his jaw and cheekbones are sharp. The tendons in his neck stretch as he tilts his head, trying to regain some semblance of control. The condo is just up ahead, just another turn and we’re in the parking garage underneath the building.

  Aiden pulls into a spot in guest parking and slams on the brakes.

  It’s too bright down here, still too populated. A group of women walk out of the building, laughing, and I move my hand, my cheeks turning bright red as they load into the car directly beside ours. Aiden has zipped up his pants again by the time I glance back over to him, but now it’s a new challenge: get to the condo as fast as we can. Aiden takes me up the delivery elevator that has an entrance right inside the garage.

  He remembers all the shortcuts from his time living here: the stairwell to avoid, the fact that our front door jams if you don’t turn the key exactly right. We’re inside and it’s jarring to see him backlit by the space we used to share together. He and I are back here again, but the circumstances have changed dramatically.

  He laughs when he catches himself leading me to his old room.

  “Lucy would love that,” I tease as I push him in the direction of my bedroom. “She’d die of shock.”

  His mouth curves into a teasing smile and then we’re at the threshold of my room, finally allowed to touch in ways we’ve been wanting to for the last hour.

  Clothes fly immediately. Aiden ruins my dress when he yanks it off, stretching out the neckline. Then he kisses me before I finish undressing, turning me so that I’m up against the bedroom door. He’s pressed in behind me, shrouding my body with his.

  I arch my neck and he kisses my lips as he tugs my panties down my hips, pushing them until they fall to the floor.

  Then his hands cover my body, keeping me in place as he grinds his jean-clad hips against mine. I hiss in pain. The denim is rough against my sensitive skin, and he’s not being gentle. Not at all.

  We have a perfectly good bed that’s a few feet from where I stand, but Aiden can’t make it there. He pushes down his jeans, angles himself against me, and thrusts inside me, a shocked gasp escaping before I can help it. I’m up on my tiptoes, trying to meet his thrusts, but he’s relentless.

  Our fingers twine together on the door as he pulls out and pushes back in. For a split second, we’re perfectly synced up, our bodies connected as much as they physically can be. Then he tugs himself out again, only so far that he can get the leverage he wants. His pace picks up and my body rocks against the door. My cheek presses against the cold wood.

  I cry out as he sinks into me and hits a little too deep, and his mouth kisses my cheek and my neck. It’s his silent apology, his way of making it up to me for being a bit too rough.

  I don’t want him to ease up. This feels necessary, this hard, fast, quick, unrestrained show of passion. It’s the way he makes me feel on a daily basis: crazy in love.

  I reach back and cup his neck, arching my back. His hand skates around the front of my body and cups my breast through my bra, teasing me as he stays pressed inside me, rolling his hips. My fingers touch the base of his hair and his hand moves lower, down the front of my body, over the center of my stomach and navel, down between my legs.

  He touches me there and I shiver with pleasure.

  His other hand moves up around my neck, like he’s keeping me there so he can continue, thrusting into me and swirling his fingers. His hand around my neck tightens a little. It’s not suffocating as much as it’s claiming. It’s an assurance that I’m there in his arms and I’m not going anywhere.

  He breathes my name as he starts to move faster, deeper. His thrusts turn stronger as he holds me in place against that door. His thumb finds my sensitive spot, and his hips rock in tight circles. The tension inside me detonates quicker than before, sharper and more intense.

  My reaction steals the last vestiges of control from Aiden, and I feel his muscles clench as pulsing shudders rack through him. He drops his head to the crook of my neck and sighs my name as his rolling hips start to slow.

  I lift my hand from his neck and he spins me around slowly, kissing me gently on the lips.

  A laugh escapes me as I get a good look at him. His hair is ruffled from my hands. His lips are red and swollen. His gaze is still heavy-lidded like he’s utterly spent.

  His jeans are still halfway on. His shirt is askew.

  “We’re animals,” I tease with a shake of my head.

  “You do this to me,” he says, yanking his shirt up and off. “What do you expect?”

  “Maybe show some decorum next time,” I throw back with a wink. “Proper seduction. You know, candles and perhaps some 90s R&B.”

  “I’ll try to remember,” he taunts.

  Yeah right. Odds are we won’t make it past the door again. Maybe we’ll end up on the floor, but definitely not the bed. Neither one of us is patient enough for that.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Aiden

  It’s early. The sun hasn’t come up yet, but I can’t fall back asleep. Jet lag has set in.

  Maddie lies beside me, tucked up against my body. We’re together on her bed, and I’m in no hurry to get up even though I’d kill for a cup of coffee.

  We showered before bed last night, and she went to sleep with wet hair. It’s dried in crazy curls, a huge mess across her pillow. I reach out to brush one of the strands away from her face and she stirs for a moment before burrowing deeper into her blankets.

  It makes me laugh before I turn and drop my feet to the ground. If I sit here much longer, I’ll wake her up with my impatience.

  I’m about to stand when her hand reaches out to grab my arm.

  “Don’t go,” she says with a quiet, sleepy voice.

  I glance back to see her eyes are still closed, like she’s not quite ready to shake off the last few remnants of sleep.

  “I was just going to put on a pot of coffee.”

  “Just stay for another second,” she says, tugging on my arm.

  I do as she says, lying back down in bed and gathering her against me. She throws one of her legs over mine, tangling our limbs.

  “I won’t go back to sleep, I promise,” she says, nestling her head against my chest.

  I hum in disbelief.

  “I promise,” she says again. “Just talk to me and I’ll stay awake.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Tell me how long you plan to stay.”

  My body tenses. I was hoping we wouldn’t go down this road until after having a cup of coffee. Better yet, three or four.

  When I don’t respond, she opens her eyes and blinks up at me. “How long?”

  “Through the weekend.”

  She rolls onto her back and looks up at the ceiling. “So…tomorrow. You’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “I have to. This wasn’t a planned thing. I wasn’t supposed to leave Dubai early.”

  There’s a long silence as I brace for her annoyance. I don’t blame her one bit. Neither of us wants this arrangement. We’re doing the best we can.

  I’m about to ask her what she’s thinking, but then she nods and sits up. “Okay then, if that’s the case, let’s go.”

  “What?”

  Her attitude takes me by surprise. I expected her to be more upset.

  “Yeah, let’s go. If we only have until tomorrow, we have a lot of love to cram into a few hours.”

  I laugh and shake my head as she leaps out of bed.

  “We’ll go to breakfast and then we can take a walk around Town Lake. I haven’t been to BookPeople in forever. We can browse through their new fiction section and then—”

  I grab ahold of her waist and yank her back onto the bed.

  She yelps as I swing my body over and on top of hers.

  “We’ll do all of that,” I tell her, starting to tug her tank top up over her stomach. “Just…later.”

>   “Are you kidding me!? Again!?” She laughs.

  “I can’t help myself,” I say, dropping my lips to her navel. I’m already working her shorts off her legs. “Try not to wake the dead this time, will you? I bet Lucy is still sleeping.”

  We stay in her room all morning, tangling her sheets, getting sweaty and worked up before showering off again. The moment we stop physically touching, it feels like she’s already starting to slip through my fingers again. I can’t help but think of what happens tomorrow. I’ll be leaving her again, half a world away from her…again.

  I’ve made a mess of this situation. Not only do I have to contend with Maddie’s annoyance with me and my annoyance with the situation, I’ll also have to confront my boss, who is most likely pretty pissed off at me. I’ve kept my phone off on purpose. I’m not checking my emails. Whatever is waiting for me at work can wait until tomorrow.

  On Saturday afternoon, we stand in line at BookPeople, waiting to checkout. Maddie has a stack of six books pinned under her arm. Still, she’s not satisfied. She’s perusing the shelves near the counter, reading the synopsis on the back of yet another book.

  “Oooh, I’ve been meaning to read this!” she says before trying to add it to her stack. I laugh and take it from her, adding it to my pile instead.

  “I’m going to pay for that,” she says, giving me a shrewd stare.

  “Uh-huh.”

  At the counter, I tell the clerk to ring up all the books on one order.

  “Aiden! You don’t have to buy my books! This is an equal opportunity partnership.”

  I wink and tell her she can buy my lunch.

  We walk over to Whole Foods across the street, heading up to the rooftop deck once we’ve grabbed our food.

  “Bet you can’t eat outside like this in New York right now,” she says, leaning back in her chair and tipping her head up to face the sun.

  She’s right. In February, it’s still jacket and beanie weather in New York. In Austin, people are already in tank tops and flip-flops. I stare at Maddie as she keeps her head tilted to the sky. I take in her delicate profile, the lone freckle just above her left eyebrow, the bit of pizza sauce she doesn’t realize is on the corner of her mouth.

  The thought of leaving her tomorrow completely steals my appetite.

  It’s the elephant in the room we aren’t talking about. Saturday bleeds into Sunday too quickly. Minutes pass even as I try to slow them down. My flight is in the early evening, and I pack my suitcase as Maddie sits on the edge of her bed, watching me.

  “Don’t forget your watch,” she says, pointing to where it sits on her nightstand. I pick it up and wrap it around my wrist.

  “And your toothbrush is still in the bathroom, I think.”

  “I’ll get it in a second.”

  “Do you want me to make you some snacks for the plane?” She stands before I can reply. “I’ll just get you an apple and some chips or something. That way you’re not hungry. I hate those flights that coincide with dinnertime. I’m always starving by the time I land.”

  “Maddie—”

  “I could make you a little sandwich too, if you want. I know they’ll have food at the airport, so it’s your call.” Without taking a breath, she continues, “Why don’t I just make you one and then you can decide later?”

  I reach out to block her before she can leave the room. She’s been like this for the last few hours, a whirling dervish.

  “Maddie, pause.”

  Her eyes go round with shock.

  “Don’t you want a sandwich?”

  I can’t help but smile a little.

  “I’m all set on the sandwiches, thanks.”

  “What about an apple?”

  “You’re avoiding what’s about to happen.”

  Her jaw drops in shock. “No I’m not!”

  “I’m leaving again.”

  She thunks me on the forehead. “Duh. You’re going to the airport.”

  “Yes, and I’m going to New York and then I’m likely flying to London for at least two weeks to cover a UN conference.”

  “London,” she says, monotone.

  “London.”

  “That’s…far away.”

  “Exactly.”

  Her face crumbles. The veneer she’s worn all day—the happy-go-lucky, rainbows-and-butterflies girl—is gone. Her eyebrows pinch together as she shakes her head.

  “I don’t want to start this all over again, more weeks without you. It’s too hard.”

  “I know.”

  “When will you be back in the States for good?”

  I shake my head, and she tugs her arm out of my hold. It hurts that she’s pulling away again, but I try to ignore the sting.

  “It could be after London, but I need to look at my schedule. After leaving Dubai early, there’s a good chance my editor isn’t going to be happy with me. I don’t know what comes next.”

  “So then we just have to wait and see?”

  I nod, hating that answer.

  Maddie turns away then, walking out of the room without saying a word. I watch her go into the kitchen and open the fridge. She pulls out an apple, washes it, and starts cutting it into slices. She fills up bags with snacks for me to take to the airport. She makes sure I didn’t forget any of my things, and then she walks me down to my rental car. We haven’t driven it since we got home on Friday. The last time I was in there, Maddie and I were crazed for one another, nearly insane.

  Now, she can barely look at me as I turn to give her a hug.

  I think she’s trying to keep from crying, but I can’t be sure. I worry it’s something more. A part of me knows she’s about to draw a line in the sand.

  I toss my suitcase into the back seat then walk over to join her near the driver’s side door.

  “Thank you for coming to see me this weekend,” she says, running her finger along the door handle. “It was really nice of you to surprise me like this.”

  I reach out to cup her face, tilting it toward me. “Please don’t be sad.”

  “I’m not,” she says as tears gather in the corners of her eyes.

  “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  I shake my head, not quite able to form the words, and her mouth tips up into a rueful smile.

  “It’s shitty timing, you know—us dating now. We lived in that condo together for years and we saw each other every day. Maybe this is our punishment for waiting too long.”

  She sounds so close to giving up.

  “It’s not a punishment.”

  Finally she says the words I knew were coming.

  “I just don’t see how this is going to work, Aiden.”

  “We just keep trying.”

  “Okay,” she says, nodding, but she doesn’t exactly sound enthusiastic.

  I lean down so we’re eye to eye. “We keep trying, Maddie,” I say again, making sure she gets it. “You’re the person I want to be with. Okay? Through the bad times and the good. You’re my best friend.”

  She nods and presses into me, grasping my shirt for dear life.

  I wrap my arms around her.

  She sidles even closer, squeezing me.

  “Say it,” I prompt gently.

  She laughs. “You’re my best friend too.”

  * * *

  New York greets me like a slap in the face. It’s snowing and it has to be hovering between ten and twenty degrees outside. I don’t have the right winter gear on hand when I exit the airport. I flew straight from Dubai to Austin, and my suitcase is filled with short-sleeved shirts. I pass a souvenir kiosk on the curb and come close to buying a cheesy I heart NY sweatshirt, but they only have child sizes. I shiver as I get in the line for a cab. It’s long and slow-moving, a kind of malaise hanging heavy over all of us. It’s Sunday night, everyone’s just returned from out of town, and no one looks all that happy about it.

  A group of cheery tourists breezes past, and they almost seem out of place. I want to
grumble about them under my breath; that’s the kind of mood I’m in. Leaving Maddie was rough. Driving away from her in the parking garage, heading to the airport, returning my rental car, waiting in the TSA line—all of it felt wrong.

  It’s weird how much I miss her already. I should be fine. I was with her a few hours ago. If I pick up my t-shirt and sniff, I could still smell her shampoo. I do it, too, just because no one gives a damn on a New York sidewalk. The scent of jasmine punches me in the gut.

  Being with her in Austin was supposed to be like hitting the reset button, but it didn’t work that way. I feel as shitty as I did before I left Dubai—more so, now, because I know it’ll be a while before I see her again.

  How long?

  No idea.

  I reach into my pocket to turn on my phone.

  Guess it’s time to meet my fate.

  It takes a second to power up. Another few seconds before my inbox and text messages load with everything I missed.

  Coworkers flooded me with messages.

  Dude, you just LEFT Dubai?

  Paul is pissed.

  Are you coming to work on Monday?

  Where are you!?

  Paul is my direct supervisor and editor. His email is sitting in my inbox, unread. The subject line is ominous. Call me immediately.

  So I do. While I wait in line in the cold, I tap Paul’s name on my screen.

  “You better have one hell of an excuse for leaving your assignment early.”

  That’s what he says when the call connects.

  I open my mouth. My response—the one I prepared on the plane ride home—is on the tip of my tongue. An apology, some groveling, promises of picking up extra work—none of it comes out. Nothing.

  “Aiden?” Paul prompts, annoyed that I’m not answering him.

  “I…”

  …am sorry.

  It won’t happen again.

  Those are things I could say, and instead, I say, “quit.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I release a crazed laugh, one that’s been building up inside of me for the last twenty-four hours. Holy hell this feels good.