by Ali Dean
I laugh, because I really don’t have anything like that, and for once in my life, I fully expect Mia to beat me. I’ve already told her she doesn’t have to run next to me. I’m sure she’s got some precise plan for pacing and I’m not going to be the one to deter her.
Since we started at Mia and Jamie’s place, Tanner drives us back to the house in his truck. It’s a distance we usually walk, but I wasn’t about to add on an extra mile and a half before we officially started the run this morning.
“All right, how many miles are you running every morning anyway?” I ask it like an accusation because, seriously? He looks like he could run another ten.
“I told you I usually swim. I don’t run every day.”
“But you just ran fourteen miles like it was no big thing.”
“It’s consistency, I guess. I have good endurance from exercising almost every day all these years.”
“You sound so grown up.”
He laughs. “I am thirty-one.”
“No but really, how long do you go when you run usually?” I had to work my ass off to do this today. Just because he’s a guy doesn’t mean he’s more athletic than me. In my experience, that is usually false.
He peers at me as he parks. “I go for an hour once or twice a week. Sometimes a little longer. And I mountain bike for an hour or two once or twice a week. Then I swim for just as long at least three times a week.”
“Who’s the one with a problem sitting still now, huh? Sounds to me like you’re busier than I am.” We get out of the car and I repeat what I know: “On top of being the town’s rock star, you have a highly specialized writing career and are secretly training for the Olympics in triathlon?”
He holds the door open for me. “No, I’m just an adult with a day job, who plays music as a hobby, and exercises regularly. Boring really.”
We take off our shoes at the door, and as I walk backward to the kitchen, preparing to tease him some more, he surprises me by grabbing my hand. “Hey, Charlie?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to make an offer on the Stony Brook property, but that means I wouldn’t be able to move until the house is built.”
I swallow, trying to figure out where this is going and if I’m meant to be playing real estate agent, roommate, friend, or one-night stand.
“I’ll need somewhere else to live for about a year, given the timeline you told me to expect.”
My head moves up and down in a nod, because I’m still not sure what he’s asking me. What do you want Tanner?
What do you want from me?
I know what I should really be asking but those questions are too scary, too hard to answer. What do I want? What do I want from him?
Tanner asks, “Do you want me to look for somewhere else to rent in the meantime? Or do you want a roommate for another year?”
He’s still holding my hand, and it’s not making it any easier to tell him what I know is the right thing to do. He should move out. For both our sakes, so we can pretend last night never happened. But right now, with his eyes on me, letting me decide what happens next, I can’t remember a single reason why I ever thought that was necessary.
“Tanner, it’s up to you on that. I don’t want you staying if you’d rather live on your own. Having a roommate isn’t for everyone.” I take a deep breath, knowing it’s impossible to talk about this and pretend last night didn’t happen at the same time. “I like having a roommate. I like having you as my roommate, but I know you meant for this to be short term, and you prefer to live alone.”
I pause before continuing, “Given what happened last night, and that neither one of us is looking to settle down and all that. Well, being roommates after we’ve slept together could be weird and get weirder if, you know, it happens again.”
“Do you want it to happen again?”
“Well, yeah, but –”
“Good, me too.” He pulls me to him and kisses all thoughts right out of my head. “What time do you have to leave for work?” he asks as he pulls my shirt over my head and starts tugging down my shorts.
“Not until noon,” I pant before tugging his lip with my teeth and dragging him backward. We don’t make it past the entryway though. He lifts me up right there, places me on my back on the floor, and before I can remind him I just worked out for over two hours and should shower first, puts his head between my legs.
I think this roommate with benefits thing is going to work out great.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tanner
The following Friday night, Charlie announced it was the last frisbee practice until spring. There was a collective grumble of disappointment.
“I’ve got a half marathon next Saturday,” she told everyone. “And ski and snowboard season is going to start up before we know it.” The mountain wouldn’t open until Thanksgiving at the earliest. It was only October, and I knew tougher weather wouldn’t stop Charlie.
We drove back to the house later and I looked over at her. “Come here.”
She unbuckled and I helped her slide to the middle of the bench seat. Charlie kissed my neck and I could feel her smiling against my skin. It was only a five-minute drive but I’d always wanted to be able to do this. We’d slept together every night this week, except for Wednesday when Mia came over. Mia’s directness never failed, and she made a point of telling me she and the rest of their happy hour foursome knew that Charlie and I were now roommates with benefits. “You don’t have to be secretive about it. But Wednesdays she’s still all mine.”
Charlie had come into my room on Thursday morning as soon as Mia left. She’d stood in the doorway in her sleep clothes. “You busy?”
I’d gotten right up from my desk and didn’t bother answering with words.
She was now tracing my earlobe with her tongue as we drove up the hill to our house, and my body instantly reacted. If I thought I was in a torturous state of arousal before we started sleeping together, I had no idea what kind of response my body would have once it was actually familiar with hers. I didn’t just want her body though, I wanted Charlie. I wanted to know her, to understand her.
“Why’d you end frisbee? You know there’s another five or six weeks at least until the mountain opens for the season.”
“It’s not like everyone can’t keep playing without me.”
“What will you do once the half marathon is over? The busiest part of the real estate season seems to be almost over too.”
“I was hoping to try mountain biking. Or swimming. You don’t have to go with me, but I did get the idea from you.” She pulled back a little as I parked. “I swam on the summer club team when I was a kid, but haven’t done much since then. And of course, I know how to bike. That was how I got around in college, but I’ve never really mountain biked before. I’m hoping since it’s the end of the season I can get one cheap.”
She slid out the other side, and I got the sense she was purposefully letting me off the hook. But what if I didn’t want to be let off?
“I can go with you on the bike. Show you the best roads and trails for starting out. You’ll probably get the hang of it fast and then you can do some of the more technical trails.” This would be fun. She already had endurance from running.
“Really? You don’t mind?”
Why did she sound so surprised? We were sleeping together, and I was totally into her. Didn’t she see that?
“No, I want to.”
“I feel like I’m already stealing all your alone time.” She smiled a little as we stood there on opposite sides of the hood of my truck. Donut and Meatball watched us from the window, but held off their barks, sensing we needed to finish our conversation.
“You’re not. I want you to steal it.” The words were ridiculous, but it was the only way I knew how to tell her how I felt. I didn’t want to talk about the future or what any of this meant, and I knew she didn’t either. But she had to know I didn’t need alone time if I was with her. I wanted to tell her that I might be a
n introvert, but being with her was an exception. It gave me energy and filled me up.
If I said that though, it would be too much. It would suggest I wanted to talk about where this was leading. For now, I think we both liked knowing I could move out at any moment, for whatever reason, and we could still get away without really addressing any of it. We could pretend like it never happened when we saw each other around town.
Yeah, right. I could never do that.
She was walking around the hood now, and I knew that look. “I have the rest of the day off. How about you?”
Charlie stood in front of me, her eyes roaming up and down my body. I wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her to me. “I’m free.”
“You want to take me for a bike ride?”
“Later,” I whispered, ducking my head down to kiss her. Her hands dropped to the edge of my waistband, and she ran her palms over my abs, up my chest, and back down again.
I started to walk her backwards toward the house and the dogs barked. We were greeted by them when we got inside, breaking us apart for a minute.
This was how life played out over the weeks that turned into months. We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, and it didn’t slow down. When we weren’t going at it like teenagers who finally had an hour with the house to themselves, we mountain biked or ran together. We didn’t spend every minute of every day together. It slowed down, but Charlie was still busy working, and I had gigs most weekends through the fall and into the holiday season.
I wasn’t writing like I usually did, instead I was chipping away here and there, but it didn’t eat at me like it used to when my writing time would get cut short.
Charlie’s friends came over often and we all hung out together. I got invited now when she went over for drinks or dinner at one of their houses, or when they all went up to the mountain. We acted like a couple when we were out, but we never talked about what that meant. I think we avoided it by keeping it so physical when it was just the two of us alone. Which came naturally.
Instead of itching for the keyboard, my fingers burned for her skin. I was addicted. Every time I thought it had to slow down eventually, we couldn’t really keep going like this for much longer, I found myself taking her right on the stairs because we were too heated to make it to the bedroom, or laying her out on the kitchen counter while dinner burned.
I was officially the owner of forty-five acres of land on Stony Brook Road and was working with a contractor to draw up plans for the house. It was a rare morning when I’d brought my laptop down to work at the kitchen counter, so I could ask Charlie some questions as I made decisions for the house. This went outside her real estate agent role, but she was way more knowledgeable than I was and seemed excited to help me.
We’d been working side by side for over an hour when she sighed. “Shoot, I need to get going to meet a client. Do you mind if I use your printer so I don’t have to go into the office beforehand? I’ve got one in my bedroom too but it’s out of ink.”
“Go for it.” I helped her connect to my printer on her computer and she jogged upstairs to grab it.
I was being just as indecisive about this as I had been with the properties. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. One bedroom, maybe an office, a kitchen, a bathroom. But now I was wondering if I should build something bigger while I was at it, in case I needed it in the future. I shook my head at myself. That would be so far out from now, it wasn’t worth it. I could always add on if I needed to in ten or fifteen years.
Charlie came back down, flipping through a small stack of papers. She paused and flipped back. Her eyebrows pinched together as she stared at something.
My heartrate picked up and I turned back to my computer. Did I leave something in there? I wouldn’t have. I never printed my drafts, and on the rare occasion I had to print, sign and scan something back to my lawyer, I always shredded it afterward.
The last time I printed something was over a week ago. I’d shredded it, knowing Charlie could come in at any moment, hadn’t I?
“I think something of yours printed off too,” she said, and her voice was a little shaky. I kept clicking through windows on my browser, pretending to be engrossed. I couldn’t look at her.
She was holding out a piece of paper. I took it and looked at it. It was a one-page document between Virginia Rose LLC and an audiobook publisher. I must have taken the second page, where it had the signature line, and left the top copy. My eyes scanned it quickly, confirming my name wasn’t on there.
Charlie didn’t say anything when I finally lifted my eyes to hers. She didn’t ask any questions. Instead, she started moving, straightening the papers, unplugging her laptop and closing it, putting everything into her bag. She looked around, found her cell phone by the toaster and snagged it. She was acting like she hadn’t seen the name, and maybe she didn’t. Or maybe she had and didn’t recognize it?
But when she started to leave without looking at me, I stood up. She’d seen it, all right.
“Charlie, wait.”
She froze but didn’t turn around.
“You know who Virginia Rose is, right? Jane was reading her when we ran into her one time.”
Charlie turned around, her hands clenching the bag strap over her shoulder.
“Yeah, the author.”
“That was my great-aunt.” The lie rolled off my tongue. “It’s her pseudonym. Was her pseudonym.”
“Yeah, I saw the name. I’m sorry I read it. I thought it was my document at first. I take it she didn’t want anyone to know?”
“I guess not. I didn’t even know until she died.” Another lie that came far too easily.
“Do you think that’s why she left it to you instead of her kids?”
I didn’t see that question coming, and I was caught off guard. Does this fictional great-aunt have kids? Or did she split it amongst me and my cousins? My answer was a mumble as I looked at my feet. “I don’t know.” I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t lie to Charlie and I couldn’t tell her the truth.
“I’m really sorry I saw that if I wasn’t meant to. I won’t tell anyone, okay?” A moment later, Charlie was gone, but the tension in my chest grew. My legs were stiff as I walked back to my laptop. I couldn’t look at the house plans right now, and I shut my computer before pacing the living room.
I wondered if this was what Charlie felt like when she was alone in the house. Empty and anxious. I had to get out, and even though it was freezing, with a light flurry of snow, I put on a jacket and gloves and headed onto the trails on my bike. I was numb physically when I returned two hours later, but the dread was still there, stronger than ever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Charlie
When I get back from work a few hours later, Tanner’s still sitting at the counter with his laptop, and he looks like shit. He’s changed into sweats and a hoodie so he must have gone upstairs at some point at least.
“You okay?” I ask, walking over to him and sitting on his lap. “Are you getting sick?”
“Do I look that bad?” His hands slide around my waist and his forehead kind of nuzzles my shoulder. It’s adorable, the way he finds new ways to touch me and make me melt. It will never get old. “I went for a bike ride in the cold. Probably a bad idea. It’s time to give it up and switch to snowboard season.”
“We’ve never snowboarded together. I see you out all the time in the winter. Maybe we can go one day this week.”
His hands are already exploring my body, but I’ve got too many questions bubbling up inside of me to hold them in any longer.
I force myself off him and unload my bag as I talk. “Okay, so after the shock wore off, I have about a million questions about your great-aunt.”
He does look a little pale, and I wonder if he’s coming down with something. It’s that time of year. I’ll probably get it too.
“I don’t know if I can answer them all. But I’ll try.”
“Were you close with her? I don’t wa
nt to be nosy and inconsiderate about something so sensitive. But it is kind of amazing she’s Virginia Rose, you know?”
“No, we weren’t very close.”
That makes this a little easier to discuss, I guess.
“I had a minute to look her up, and like Jane said, the last book came out a few months ago. Did she just pass away recently?”
“Yeah, after she finished that book.”
“Wow. That’s so sad. Was she really old?”
He nods, but looks so uncomfortable. Talking about a dead relative can’t be fun and I should really shut up. Except now that I’m in on this secret, I’m burning with curiosity. She’s one of the most famous authors in the world. Or was. Is? That brings me to my next question.
“But her fans don’t even know yet? Her website still has an announcement up about the first book in her next series releasing after the new year.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m working with the editor to publish those posthumously.”
Ah, it’s all clicking now. The secrecy about it. Her fans wouldn’t want to know it’s not actually her finalizing the books, I would guess. “So the publisher or whoever doesn’t want to announce she passed away?” That seems sort of deceitful.
“I’m staying out of the marketing strategy. But since the books were already written, and I have writing and editing experience from my job anyway, I thought I could get them in order to publish. It would be a waste if they never got to the readers.”
It’s Saturday night and we’ve got plans to go to Mia and Jamie’s later. I pull out the bottle of chardonnay I was chilling in the fridge to bring over to their place. I’m in the mood to have a glass now. “Want some?” I ask Tanner.
“No thanks.”
As I pour a glass I start laughing. “This is such a relief. It’s a wild explanation but makes total sense. I was worried you were secretly a drug dealer for a while there.”
“You thought I was a drug dealer?”
