by Roxy Queen
“Growing up sucks.”
“Totally.”
“So you going to see him again?”
“Mark? Yeah, I think so. Maybe Friday night for drinks.”
“Good. He’s cute. I bet he looks even better naked.”
“Finley!”
She smirks before taking a sip of her drink. “Well, I bet he does.”
I can’t even argue because she’s probably right.
*
After a couple of drinks I’m buzzed and feeling nice. The air is cool but Mark’s hand feels warm in mine. Drinks went well. Dinner even better. The walk home holds promise.
“So you play on the intermural team?” We’re talking about basketball and how hard it was to give up playing all the time. He was good but not great and physical therapy seemed like a way for him to stay connected to athletics.
“Yeah, just for fun. It’s kind of hilarious to beat the smug younger guys so badly.”
“I bet.” An image of Carter pops in my mind and his level of extreme competitiveness. He’d surely get pissed about anyone beating him.
“Did you play sports?”
“No, not really. Nothing on a higher level.”
We arrive outside Betsy’s house, near the back path that leads to my apartment. Mark looks over my shoulder to the carriage house. “This is nice.”
“I lucked out.”
“Looks like it. I live in one of those cookie cutter places near graduate housing.”
“Convenient though, right? That’s only about a mile from the PT school.”
“Yeah, but you’re closer to town.”
“Makes walking home from the bars easier,” I laugh. Ryan has short dark hair and a thick layer of scruff on his chin. He’s rugged and handsome. Very tall. At the bar I could see the curves of his muscles beneath his shirt. Like Finely said, he’s probably pretty hot naked.
He takes a step forward and I wait for his kiss. Wait for it. I don’t take it. Or claim it first. I don’t throw myself at him like a dog in heat. His lips are cold from the winter air and he tastes like beer. Desire stirs in my belly, something I haven’t felt in a while. A feeling I miss.
We part and I weigh my options. Like, really weigh them. Ryan’s a grown up and I can’t play sex games for the rest of my life. I’m twenty-eight. I know it doesn’t have to be serious but I have to go to class with this guy on Monday. I bite my lip and make a decision.
“That was nice,” I say, slipping my hands into his coat pockets. “Can we do this again sometime?”
He nods, only looking a little disappointed, and kisses me again. “I’d like that.”
“Thanks for walking me home.”
“No problem. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and walks down the pathway. I can do this, I think, turning to walk up the steps. I can.
*
Turns out I can’t.
Well I do. I did. I went out with Mark a couple more times. The right and proper way. After date three I brought him back to my apartment where we knocked off a bottle of wine, feverishly stripped off our clothes and had sex. We had sex. We didn’t fuck. We didn’t make love. We had standard, everything was fine sex.
“It was terrible.”
“What are you talking about?” Finley asks. We’re back in the coffee shop between classes and I’ve just confessed about how being with Mark wasn’t all that. “How could it be that bad?”
“It started off okay. I mean, he looked good naked. I looked alright. I’d shaved and prepped everything. I was ready. I had on matching panties and a bra—so nothing too embarrassing like that.”
“Then what?”
“Eh, it just wasn’t that great.”
“Did you come?”
“Yeah, he did that pretty well.”
“Did he come?”
“Yes.” I scrunch my nose thinking about him on top of me. “He was pretty satisfied.”
“Then what gives?”
“No spark I guess?”
“Spark?”
“You know, he’s fine. A nice guy. Good in bed, but there just wasn’t a fire or anything. No excitement.” I look at my coffee mug and spin it around in a circle with my fingers. I glance up and give her a knowing look.
“No,” she says. “Ruthie, no. Don’t even go there again.”
“I can’t help it.”
“Babe, that ship has sailed. A long time ago. Carter is not an option.”
“I know that.” The words fall flat. I know it and I mean it, but there’s no weight behind it. Just nothing.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but honestly? I think you should see him.”
“Carter? Not happening.”
“You need to get it out of your system and just talk to him, face-to-face. You’ll realize that he’s not all you remembered. That he’s gained the freshman fifteen and he’s a fraternity jackass and that guys like Mark are fine. They’re great even.” I must still look skeptical because she says, “I love Carter. I do. I get why you went there. I mean, I was your freaking cheering section but, honey, part of Carter’s allure is that he had no responsibilities. He was summer. Warm and fun. Sexy nights and fireworks. You had a chance to go back and be eighteen again. Count your blessings. This is the real world, find a real man.”
“I know all that. I mean, that’s why I made the break so final.”
“But there’s a disconnect. Just talk to him. I bet the spark you once had fizzles like a limp dick.”
“That is not a good idea, Fin,” I say. “Carter and I left things in a good place. I would never take that back. He looks like he moved on pretty well. Just like I wanted.” And I did want that. And I really wasn’t hung up on him. I only felt like this when I saw him. Or when I was with another guy that didn’t measure up. Literally.
“You’ve got to do something to fix this.”
“Maybe round two with Mark? I was kidding, it wasn’t that bad.” It was totally that bad. Just…blah.
She looks at her watch and grabs her bag off the back of her chair. “You better figure something out.”
“Or what?” I ask, collecting my trash.
“Or I’ll have to step in, and no one wants that to happen.”
From the set of her jaw to the way her hands perched on her hips I know she’s serious. “Fine, I’ll deal with it. Get counseling. See a sex therapist…something.”
Finley rolls her eyes and walks past me, pushing the coffee shop door open. I follow, feeling the cold air slap my face. Not for the first time, I just wish it was summer again.
*
A week later I haven’t seen Mark again. I’ve avoided his calls and sent him one short text hoping he’d get it. He barely acknowledged me at class the following day so I’m assuming the message was received.
I’m reading some classwork when Finely rushes in, windblown and red cheeked. “What’s going on? You okay?”
“Yeah, just got caught up. Be right back.” She drops her bag and goes to the counter, placing an order. When she gets back she says, “Remember how you told me how you did the mature thing by breaking up with Carter?”
“Yeah, one of us had to be.” I warm my fingers on my mug. “There was no way he was going to back out first.”
“True,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “No one ever said I had to be mature, right?”
“What?”
She leans toward me and whispers, “I’m tired of all your moping. Deal with it.” Her eyes flick over my shoulder. “Hi, Carter!” she says, jumping out of her seat and giving him a hug. “Look Ruthie, it’s Carter.”
I turn and he’s there. Towering over me, broad and clothed. The first thing I notice is his skin—at least the minimal parts I can see. It’s paler but he still carries a brownish color which must be his natural skin tone. His gray eyes pop against his charcoal sweater. I force myself to speak. “Hi.”
“Hey,” his voice is still deep, but it’s different. More solid. I ap
praise the thick layer of stubble covering his chin. If I thought he was a man before I was wrong. Aqua-man had transformed over the last eight months.
Finley scuttles away, but not before offering an explanation about seeing Carter on campus and how it was great to see him and how my name came up and then she’s giving him her seat. Then she’s gone. Damn her.
He leans over the chair, hands against the back of the seat. I can tell the overgrown puppy phase is gone. He’s graceful and sleek outside the water just like he used to be inside.
“How have you been?” I ask, because I’m the adult here and I can do this.
“Pretty good, you?”
“Okay. School’s tough.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Still pre-law?” I want to take a drink but I’m afraid my hands will shake and give away how nervous I am.
A line appears between his eyes and he nods. “You remembered.”
“Of course I did. Is that a surprise?”
“No. Well, maybe. I remember a lot of things about last summer. So much that sometimes I think I made it up.” His eyes fix on mine. Like he’s making sure I’m real. His words catch me off guard and I have no idea what to say.
“Do you want to sit?”
“Uh, maybe for a minute.”
He settles across from me, his huge frame in the small chair. I’m instantly reminded of him naked and sweaty in the back of his car. Arms and legs everywhere. His mouth warm and hot. My cheeks burn and I lower my eyes to the tabletop. “So how have you been, really?”
“It’s been an adjustment—school and everything.”
I plaster on my brave face. The one that seduced this kid in the first place. “You managed not to gain the Freshman Fifteen. Jerk.”
He laughs softly. “Eh, maybe a pound or two. It sucks that beer makes you fat.”
“Still swimming?”
“Yeah, you know me.”
“I do.” A heavy weight lands on top of us and I can’t breathe. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and pushes the little container of sugar packets across the table. I think he’s going to say something else but instead he straightens his back and glances at the door.
“It was good seeing you, Ruthie,” he says, standing.
My heart cracks in my chest, but I smile because this is how I want it. “You too. Take care, okay?”
Carter gives me a tight nod and walks out the door.
*
Spring finally arrives and even though it hasn’t warmed much, I push my fashion sense by dressing in shorts and a T-shirt. His T-shirt. The blue one I loved on him so much. I stole it one day toward the end of summer, when things were still good between us. He acted mad, but he let me have it anyway. I pair it with a hoodie and thick wool socks but it’s nice to break away from the winter.
Living in the carriage house has worked well this school year. It’s given me the quiet of living away from campus but also a sense of home. The situation works for both of us and tonight, like many other nights, I ate dinner with the family. Once the girls are tucked into bed, I settle back into my apartment, focusing on reading a textbook.
I’m ready for a break when there’s a knock at the door. Hopefully, it’s Betsy with cookies or maybe some wine.
“One minute,” I call. My phone buzzes in my pocket before I reach the door. It’s a text.
Don’t be mad.
Love you,
Fin
Flower printed curtains cover the window in the door and I push the fabric to the side. The last person I expect on my doorstep tonight leans against the railing, eyes stormy and body hard.
Aqua-Man.
I drop the curtain and take a deep breath, staring at the door for a minute, completely unsure what to do.
“I know you’re in there, Ruthie,” he says.
I unlock the door and open it and take in the sight of him.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure, I guess.” I swing the door open wider and say, “Is everything okay?”
He follows me in and everything becomes surreal. I never thought Carter Hightower would be in my house again. But he’s here. He’s already inside before I realize how much trouble I’m in. If I thought he sucked the air out of the room before I was mistaken. He’s taller, wider and more beautiful than before.
“Nice shirt,” he says with a small laugh.
I want to laugh back, but I’m too nervous. I wrap my arms around my middle and wait to find out why he’s here.
“Can we talk?”
“Yeah, sure.” I point to the couch and he takes one side while I sit down at the other. I wait for him to say something—anything, but he’s staring at his hands and then up at me and then back at his hands again. “Is everything okay?”
“I was surprised that day Finley approached me on campus. I’d seen you before—and her. But you always seemed busy and I knew you didn’t really want to talk to me, so I just let it go. But then there she was—all up in my face like a day hadn’t passed, talking me into meeting you guys at the coffee shop.”
“Sounds like Finley,” I agree.
“I felt sick walking in there. Like, completely intimidated.” His eyes flick to mine and I get it—Carter has never been intimidated by anyone. Not his competitors, his fellow students or even a half dressed twenty-eight year old. Again, he turns silent and I wait, because I have no idea where he’s going with this.
“You messed me up,” he says eventually. “Just fucked with me completely.” This announcement causes a wave of guilt to slam into me. I knew it was possible and I hate myself for it. I start to sputter out an apology but he stops me. “Not because of what you—we—did, but because of who you are.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I tell him, but an uneasy feeling settles into my chest.
He laughs darkly. His face tense and serious. I’ve never seen him like this before. Well once, that night in the theater parking lot. Like then, the anger makes him even more beautiful. Striking. Dangerous.
“It means I was okay with everything that happened. That was, and probably will be, the best summer of my life. I came up here and did exactly what you said. I charmed everyone. My grades are excellent. I had my pick of girls and fraternities. I partied and went to football games. I slept with whoever I wanted. I was picky and I treated them well, just like you taught me, and everything should have been fine.”
“But it wasn’t?”
He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “No. It wasn’t. None of those girls could compare. They weren’t you. I had a taste of the woman I wanted, and she was gone.”
I stare at the pattern on my couch and I feel his eyes boring through me. I take a deep breath and say, “For what it’s worth, I’ve missed you, too.”
“Don’t,” he grimaces. “Don’t say something you don’t mean.”
“I do mean it,” I say. But I’m also panicking because I don’t know if I can do this. If I can rip this Band-Aid off, because the wound is still fresh and I’m not sure if I can patch it up again. “The last eight months have been hard on me, too, Carter. I told you that night that you meant more to me than just a good lay, but…”
His eyes cloud over. “But what?”
“But it doesn’t change our age difference, or that you still have so much life ahead of you to experience. That this is awkward and people wouldn’t get it. It was fun but not real.”
He nods, but he’s hurt. I want to reach over and rub the tense spot on his jaw, I want to kiss him and make it better. And God knows, I want to relieve the ache between my legs, but I don’t do any of these because I promised myself this was over.
“You’re so funny and smart, Carter, those are two qualities hard to find in a man, and think about it…I already have one failed engagement. I’m probably more of a mess than you are. I mean, the most successful relationship I’ve had was with an eighteen-year-old.”
“You aren’t a mess, Ruthie.”
I scoff. “I think you have me on a ped
estal. I’m not perfect.”
“No,” he says, giving me the most wistful look. “But for one moment, just one, you were mine.”
*
We ended that night with an awkward hug in the driveway. I’m unsure if things will ever be ‘normal’ between us. There is no normal at this point, there’s only right and wrong.
I walk back to the house and find Betsy sitting on the back step. She has on flannel pajama bottoms and a fleece jacket wrapped over her shoulders. I frown, “Hey, everything okay?”
“Was that Carter Hightower?”
I look down the driveway and see his tail lights disappearing. “Yeah, it was.”
She has a million questions; I see them all written on her face. I sigh and ask, “Do you want to come up?”
I stop by the kitchen and take two wine glasses out of the cabinet, a bottle off the counter and start pouring. I drink one immediately. Her eyes widen but she says nothing. I refill and hand her one of the glasses, then I take the seat Carter just occupied. If I close my eyes I can still catch his scent. Betsy sits across from me and says, “Carter Hightower.”
“Yes.”
“Do you mind me asking what he was doing here?”
“Just talking,” I say. “We met up about a month ago at a coffee shop on campus. Finley invited him. I’m assuming from the apologetic text moments before he knocked on the door she told him I was still living here.”
Betsy’s a pretty woman. And she’s cool. I like her and over the last year, we’ve become friends. We go to dinner and watch movies together, but I’ve never breathed a word about Carter to anyone other than Finley.
Even so, I’m not completely surprised when she says, “There were some rumors about you two over the summer.”
Bam.
“Oh, really?” I take a gulp of wine.
“Yes. Some people suggested that you two were hooking up or having some kind of fling.”
I swallow a too large gulp of wine and wipe my mouth with the arm of my sweatshirt. “Those moms sure like to gossip. Let me guess, Bikini Mom?”
“You mean Debbie?” she laughed. “Well, yeah, she was one of them. But a couple of the others moms mentioned you two sneaking around, plus I saw him here.”
Shit.
