by Sophie Stern
He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t want to wake you in the morning. Like I said, I need to get up early. Plus,” here he hesitates, as if he’s not saying what he wants to, “I sleep better alone. It’s nothing against you, Charlotte. I just can’t sleep with other people.”
“You literally fucked me not one hour ago. Now you’re telling me I can’t sleep with you?” What the hell? A shot of fear rages throughout my body, warning me that something isn't right. Again, I might not be the most experienced with adult relationships, but I've dated before. And of the guys I've dated, the ones who didn't live with their mothers always let me sleep in their beds.
They didn't shove me down the hall in the guest bedroom.
What?
He sighs. “It’s just a…thing I have. It’s not a big deal. I just need to sleep alone.” August grabs me and pulls me close, giving me a passionate kiss. I still tingle from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, but I know he’s trying to distract me from the weirdness of the situation.
Why can’t I sleep with my boyfriend?
Surely he doesn’t think there’s something inappropriate or wrong about us sleeping in the same bed? I mean, I’m not offended if he thinks it’s wrong, but we just had sex. I’m not understanding his moral compass at this point. Somehow, the way his kiss surges throughout me, igniting me, lighting me up, distracts me from his decision for us to sleep alone.
August tucks me gently into his guest room bed and kisses me on the forehead.
“You wanna talk about how weird this is?” I ask him before he leaves.
He opens his mouth and starts to tell me something, but then he just shakes his head. There always seems to be something on the tip of his tongue, something he can’t quite bring himself to explain to me.
“Not yet. I just need you to trust me on this one, okay?”
It’s the very least I can do, so I just nod. He leaves and I’m alone for the millionth time in this bedroom. Instead of falling asleep, I climb out of bed and walk around, wondering if I should just go home. I won’t, of course, since it’s the middle of the night and I’m way too tired to drive, but I can’t help thinking how empty this feels, how strange it seems.
I don’t think it’s a big deal for me to want to fall asleep in his arms. August obviously isn’t completely scared of commitment or he wouldn’t be dating me, right? Maybe the sleeping alone thing is just his way of asserting his own identity. I don’t know.
I walk around the room, taking in the décor. It’s a comfortable room filled with pictures of his life. There are a few pictures from when he was in college, a couple from his time in the military, and even a few pictures from August’s childhood. I look a little more closely at one of the pictures from when he was just a toddler riding a tricycle around the house. Even then, his eyes were piercing and deep. I wonder if his parents knew what a sexy beast he’d turn out to be.
Finally deciding to give up on my dream of us falling asleep wrapped in each others’ arms, I climb back into bed and pull the covers up to my ears. I roll onto my side, take a couple of deep breaths, and try to fall asleep. I can’t stop replaying every part of our date in my mind. I can’t stop wondering if I did something strange to offend August. Maybe I said the wrong thing or accidentally made a joke he thought was really weird. I don’t know. I toss and turn for what feels like hours until I finally drift off into a dreamless, uncomfortable sleep.
23
“You aren’t going to believe what happened last night,” I practically squeal at Anna when I get home the next day.
“You and August finally fucked again?”
I roll my eyes. Anna is curled up next to Colby on the couch, relaxing with a book while he plays Call of Duty. Colby is completely immersed in the game and isn’t even listening to what we’re talking about. Bless his heart. Anna sure lucked out with this one. Most guys would be completely bored with the conversation we’re about to have.
“We had already slept together, but yeah.”
“And?” She’s all ears now. “How was he?”
“Amazing,” I say instantly. “He was perfect. The sex was awesome.”
She raises an eyebrow. “But?”
“But after, it was sort of weird.”
“Weird how?”
“He made me sleep in the guest room.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he told me he doesn’t sleep in the same room as people.”
“That’s pretty weird,” Colby pipes up, listening now that he’s between games. I glance over at him. He's wearing his headset, trying to get into another game, and focused on the screen. Even so, his ears are perked up. I think, just for a second, that Colby is like a very lovable, very wonderful little puppy.
You know, who just happens to be having a baby with my kid sister.
“I dunno. Maybe I’m reading too much into it.” I twist my hands, trying not to freak out. “I really like him a lot. I don’t want to ruin any chances we have because I’m going to be weird about a minor detail.”
"Yeah, but that's a pretty big detail. I mean, is he trying to keep some distance between you guys?" Anna scrunches up her nose in confusion.
"Maybe he wets the bed," Colby offers up.
"Shut up! He does not wet the bed."
"You know what I think?" Anna asks, patting me on the leg. "I think you need to just talk to him about it. You're going to drive yourself nuts. Don't act like you aren't. And don't go Googling Reasons my boyfriend won't sleep in the same bed as me."
I roll my eyes, but she's right. That sounds like something I would do.
"Everything else going okay, though?" Anna asks.
"Yeah. I really can't complain. He's amazing. Seriously. Mr. Perfect in every way, except that one. I just can't help but think he's hiding something weird from me, you know?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Maybe he has a secret wife that he keeps in there."
"He doesn't have a secret wife."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I Googled him."
***
I promise myself I'll bring it up on Monday morning, but I can't.
Somehow, I find myself feeling scared.
Don't get me wrong: I'm not afraid of August, but that doesn't change the fact that we've definitely taken things to the next level in our relationship. We're actually having sex now. We're actually opening up to each other physically.
And I'm definitely, absolutely, completely in over my head.
I've never dated a guy like him before.
I've never been with a guy I was so crazy about that it hurt.
And I don't want to do anything to wreck this, but I can't help myself. I have to know what's going on. It's too weird. It's too much.
When I show up at work, I waltz right into his office.
And he’s nowhere to be found.
Seriously.
At first, I wonder if he had a business meeting, but the office is completely untouched. It looks like he hasn’t been in at all this morning. I glance around the room again, as if me staring will somehow make him appear. Where is he? Is he sick?
I go find Paige, but she’s on the phone.
“I’m sorry. Yes, I know it’s inconvenient, but unfortunately we will have to reschedule the meeting. How does Wednesday work for you? Would the afternoon be okay? 3:00? Perfect. I’ll let Mr. Mason know.”
She looks frazzled as she hangs up and starts furiously typing on her computer, barely noticing that I’m standing there. I clear my throat loudly, but she still doesn’t look up.
“Paige?” I finally speak out loud and she looks up, completely surprised to see me.
“Charlotte. I’m surprised to see you today. August isn’t in.”
“I noticed. What’s going on? Is the office closed today or something?”
“No. He just took a personal slash sick day.”
“Sick? Is everything okay?”
“He’s fine, Charlotte,” Paige sounds annoye
d with me. “Sometimes he just needs a personal day.”
I fucked up, I realize. I ruined everything. I did something to push him away and now he can’t even stand to be around me. Why else wouldn’t he come to work? This is his business. This is his baby. This is his thing. And suddenly he’s taking a sick day? What the hell did I do?
I wonder if I should call him or text him, but I don’t want to be that girl. You know, the needy, annoying girlfriend. He was already really hesitant getting into this relationship. He was already unsure about “us.” I don’t want to do anything to push him further away.
“Does he take a lot of personal days?” I ask. Paige gives me a look that tells me to fuck right off so she can finish canceling his meetings, but she just sighs.
“Look, Charlotte, I know there’s something going on between you two and you’re worried. I get it. Really, I do. August is difficult to understand. I know. Trust me: I’ve been working for the guy for two years, okay? But just because he takes a sick day doesn’t mean something is wrong with him. August runs Strongdelt, mostly single-handedly. Sometimes he just needs time to himself.”
I nod, unsure what to do next. Obviously, Paige didn’t get the day off. Maybe I didn’t either. I don’t know. I walk slowly to my office, afraid to ask her what I should do, afraid to call August, afraid to mess up today. I slump into my desk chair and take a look around my beautiful office.
How come the most wonderful things always come with such a huge price tag?
24
I finally text him. It’s 8pm and I’ve been in bed for an hour. I literally came home from work, ate, and collapsed in bed. I’m like a little kid. Seriously. Who goes to bed this early?
Hey, I missed you at work today. Hope everything is okay.
My text is cool and casual. At least, I hope it is. I still want to call him, to hear his voice. I still want to hear him promise me that everything is going to be okay, but I can’t. Not just yet. He’ll call me if he wants to. Until then, I’m going to do everything in my power not to mess this up. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that we find a way to make this work for real.
So, like the adult that I tell myself I am, I stare at my phone.
And stare at it.
And stare at it.
Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe he doesn’t feel good and he fell asleep. There’s nothing wrong. He just needed a day to himself. Hell, maybe he’s out with his golf buddies. Maybe he’s spending time with his family. I don’t know.
I watch my phone for half an hour until I can’t take it anymore. I finally switch it to silent mode and collapse in a pile of tears. Anna and Colby are out doing something, so there is no one to hear me cry. There’s no one to hear me punching my pillow in frustration.
How could I be such a screw up?
Seriously. How come I’m the one who tries and tries to have a real, adult, fantastic, romantic, sexy relationship, but who can’t? How come my dorky little sister is the one who has it all together? Why can’t I get this right?
I continue to cry until I finally pass out curled on top of my blanket, clutching my phone in my hand.
***
When I wake up Tuesday morning, I have to pry myself from bed. The idea of going to work is horrifying to me. August never texted me back. I have no idea what's going on, if he's okay, or if he ever wants to see me again.
Maybe I'm overreacting, but I doubt it.
When a guy you just fucked suddenly wants nothing to do with you, it means you messed up. Yes, there are always those rare instances where something really did come up, where he really did have a family emergency, or where he really did catch the flu, but I doubt this is one of them. The way my life works out is that anything bad that could possibly happen, happens to me.
If August has another girlfriend on the side, if he's secretly gay, or if he just thinks I smell weird, it would totally be my luck. At this point, I can't even be surprised.
Somehow, I manage to shower and dress myself, albeit not well. I realize I don't look great, but when Anna sees me, she busts out laughing.
"What the hell? You aren't seriously wearing that to work?"
I glance down at myself and shrug. Could be worse, right? I'm wearing black pants and a blue shirt. The pants are too small and make me look pregnant. The top is too big and makes me look even more pregnant. My socks don't match and my shoes are...horrible.
"I don't know," I manage to say, staring at myself, not meeting her eyes. I feel like I'm going to cry. Not only did I sleep like shit, but yesterday completely sucked, and today is turning out to be just as bad. The last thing I want to do is try to look nice. I have nothing to wear and everything is horrible.
"Come on," she says. Anna marches into my bedroom and opens my closet, browsing through my clothes. "This." She throws a small black dress on the bed and grabs a pair of high heels to go with. "Wear this."
"That's too fancy for work."
Anna glares at me, one hand on her hip.
"Put it on, Charlotte. I'm not letting you out of the house to go to Wal-Mart dressed like that, much less to work. You might feel like shit, you might feel stressed, but you don't have to look it. If you actually want to figure out what's going on with your boy-toy, you're going to put this dress on, you're going to let me fix your hair, and you're going to waltz into work today and pull it together. Got it?"
I’m too tired to argue.
I nod and strip down, slipping the dress over my head. How did my little sister get to be so smart? I've always felt like I was the one who really had a handle on life. I was the strong one when Mom died. I was the wise one when Anna got pregnant. I was even the one who managed to keep it together when I quit my job, but today Anna is the one who has it all together.
And I feel like the loser who can't even get her relationship with her boyfriend right.
I end up being late to work, but no one notices. Paige is still busy from yesterday's cancellations, so she barely looks up when I walk into the office. I drop my purse off at my desk and check myself in the mirror. I look good. I look really good. You definitely can't tell that I spent the entire night crying or that I'm an emotional wreck, at least not by looking at me.
August's office door is ajar and the light is on.
Good. It means he's actually here today.
I walk slowly into his office, taking a deep breath. I'm ready, I tell myself. I can do this. Most of me doesn't believe it. Most of me is terrified that this is the part where he breaks up with me. Most of me is terrified that this is the part where he says I just wasn't that good at sex, that I'm not as pretty as he thought I was, or that I'm just a little too weird for him.
August is in the middle of a business call when I walk in, but he doesn't wave me away. Instead, he motions for me to climb onto his lap while he talks. Definitely not something a guy who is about to break up with me would do. Maybe I was overreacting.
Maybe.
I lean my head against his shoulder, comfortable and secure. This is how a romance should be. This is how a romance should look, and feel, and smell. My insecurities from the past day start to dissipate, albeit slowly, as I get comfortable during his call.
I close my eyes.
It's so close to perfect.
His hands run through my hair as he speaks, his voice strong and steady. After a minute, he hangs up the phone and kisses me before I know what's happening. His hands are on my body and he's running his tongue along the inside of my teeth. It's a new, wonderful, amazing sensation that makes trying to talk with him nearly impossible.
But then he stops kissing me and brushes my hair back.
"Hi beautiful."
"Hey," I say, placing my hands on his chest. I was wrong. I had to be wrong. I can't believe I freaked out so much over a day. When did I turn into such a paranoid weirdo?
I'm still sitting in his lap, still close enough to smell him. I'm close enough to be picturing us naked here together. If only there were more time. If on
ly there was a way we didn't have to work today. I would drag him to bed and keep him there until dinnertime, worshipping his body until the sun set, making him forget all about yesterday, making him forget all about my freak out.
"What's on your mind?" He asks, obviously knowing that something is up with me. I'm not jabbering away like I usually do. I'm quiet and nervous. Honestly, I'm a little bit scared. What if he refuses to talk to me? What if he won't tell me what's going on? What if he has a horrible secret. A wife? Another life? Another girlfriend?
"We need to talk," I start, but immediately cringe. We need to talk? Who starts a conversation that way? Unless you're breaking up, that's the worst thing you can say to someone. Even then, it's still the worst thing you can say.
August knows because he winces at the words.
"Do we?"
"Yeah, but I mean, nothing bad..." I search for the right words. I have to find them. I practiced asking him all last night. I even stood in front of the mirror, making sure I didn't sound like a total loser. Apparently, my tactic didn't work because now I'm here like a total dork, freaking out in front of someone who has shown me nothing but love and tenderness.
"You want to know where I was yesterday."
"Yes..." I'm shocked. He read my mind. Of course he did. He's August Mason. He's Mr. Perfect. He's Mr. Fuck-Me-Everywhere-and-Anywhere. He knows exactly what I need in bed, exactly what I need at work, and exactly what I need in a boyfriend. Why wouldn't he know what I wanted to ask?
"I don't want to pressure you," I say, "but honestly, it kind of freaked me out. I thought we were moving forward together. I thought we were pursuing something special. Then you didn't text me back, didn't come to work, and I just thought...I thought something was wrong. Especially, you know, after the whole not sleeping in the same bed thing..."
And now I sound like a whiny high school student whose boyfriend doesn't want to go to prom.
Perfect.
"Charlotte," he begins, and I know that whatever he's going to say is bad. "We'll talk. We will. I promise, but we can't do it here. There are some things you need to know about me, some things about my past. I'm ready to share with you, but it's heavy, and it's not something I'm at all comfortable talking about at work. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm comfortable talking about it at all."
