Catch of the Day

by Whitney Lyles

“Do you have a condom?” she whispered. For a fleeting second she wondered if it was too soon for sex. He’d pretty much invited her to move in with him, but something still felt unofficial to her. However, it wasn’t as if he was a stranger. They’d done it thousands of times and she was dying to feel him inside her, to release the tension she had felt building up ever since she had seen him at the engagement party.

  On the other hand, she’d had a funny feeling ever since they’d walked home from the bar. It was the same feeling she’d had right before she was getting ready to break up with him. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what she felt, and tried to dismiss it.

  This was what she wanted. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to start her life with him.

  “The condoms are in my dresser,” he moaned.

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered. His eyes looked glassy with need when they made eye contact.

  “Thank you,” he said, pointing to the top drawer of his dresser across the room.

  When she returned he still had the same look in his eyes. His legs were two toned from a farmer’s tan, and the tops of his thighs looked pale and hairy in the dim light.

  She was afraid his drunken passion would fade into disappointment when he noticed she was holding the bottle of lotion she’d packed instead of a Trojan. She didn’t give him a chance to figure it out, but rather began to stroke his erection. Moments later he climaxed, the sound of his voice echoing off the walls. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t get to finish.” He stretched his arms behind his head and released a long sigh. “You got me so worked up I couldn’t help it.”

  “It’s okay.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Maybe we’ll have to try again later.” As she said the words she wondered if he could sense that she wasn’t sincere. The sheets were cold when they climbed into bed and as he drifted off to sleep she felt as if she had just escaped . . . something. After several hours of listening to the sound of his heavy breathing she realized what it was that she felt when they returned from the restaurant. Trapped.

  When she woke the following morning they were spooning. He kissed her when she looked at him and she instantly recognized the taste of his mouth in the morning. It was neither bad nor good, a little sweet mixed with sour. He’d always tasted this way and something about it made her feel at home again. A night of sleep had made her less angry about his reaction to the homeless man and she felt as if she were doing the right thing by being here. She rationalized that she had probably overreacted to everything that had happened the night before. He dealt with the homeless on a regular basis and was probably fed up. Furthermore, it was only natural for her to be analyzing his every mood. If she got back together with him she knew the commitment would be much stronger this time around. Probably for life. It wasn’t as if he were some guy she had met and they were in the getting-to-know-each-other phase. The phase where she could simply see where things went and if there would even be a relationship. Perhaps sensing that this was a step toward making things permanent with Mason was why she - couldn’t stop thinking about Bill.

  They spent the afternoon shopping in Union Square, dodging animal rights activists outside Neiman Marcus and perusing Tiffany. She could afford nothing in any of these stores and wondered why he had brought her there.

  Everything she looked at, she saw Bill. When she looked at clothes, she saw the poncho Bill bought in Mexico. When she looked at jewelry, she remembered the rings they’d purchased. When a car sped past, she saw his new Thunderbird. When Mason reached for her hand, she thought about Bill taking her hand when they’d danced in Mexico.

  It was during lunch that things became weird. “So you never told me everything about the rest of your trip in Mexico,” Mason said.

  They were seated in the restaurant at the top of Neiman Marcus. For some reason the view made her nauseous and she wondered if it was because she had an empty stomach and it was taking so long for her risotto to come.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “I told you. I got stranded with Bill. We grabbed a hotel and my parents picked us up the next morning.”

  “I mean, did you hook up with Bill that night?”

  “No. We were stranded there.”

  “Yeah right,” he muttered.

  He was eerily psychic this way. Like when she was attracted to the food critic from San Diego Weekly. She was stunned when, out of the blue, he’d started grilling her about him. There was no way he could’ve known that she’d been thinking about Bill all day.

  “I just don’t believe a guy and a girl could sleep next to each other all night and not touch each other.”

  “Mason, what are you talking about? Why are you doing this?”

  There were times when his jealousy was sexy, and times when it was a total turnoff. This was the latter.

  “I’m doing this because I’m not stupid, Meg. You spend the night in a hotel with a guy like Bill—in the same bed, no less—and you expect me to believe you didn’t hook up with him. That he - didn’t even try.”

  She’d always wondered if all the other girls he dated had been sluts, because he had this notion that she was some out-of-control sex maniac that could never resist the urge to screw around. It was like he didn’t know her.

  “Mason, you’re being weird. Really weird. I’m going to say this once. I did not hook up with Bill in Mexico.”

  “Just tell me if you did, so I don’t look like a total ass at the wedding.”

  “If you want to know the truth, I told him I love you.” Well, she’d actually said that at the couples shower when Bill had kissed her in the bathroom, not in Mexico. But it was still true. Wasn’t it?

  “Yeah right.”

  “Look, if you don’t let this go, I’m leaving.” She meant it.

  “All right. Sorry, Meg. Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be this way. It’s just that I’m so afraid of getting hurt again—I have to make sure that this is for real.”

  “Fine, but Mason, you know I’ve never cheated on you.”

  “I know.”

  They spent the remainder of the day walking around; by evening she just wanted a nap. Like the bachelorette party in Mexico, she wanted to sleep off the rest of her trip. And that was pretty much what she did.