by Kelly Myers
I head to the bathroom first to relieve myself and splash some water on my face. Then I tiptoe into the living room. I grab my jeans and T-shirt from where I folded them on the couch the night before and get dressed.
I note how lovely her living room is in the morning. Yes, I own the apartment, but I’ve never spent too much time in it. Cynthia has made it quite a charming space. She has little postcards taped on the wall in random places, and her big desk is pressed into one corner. Somehow, the desk seems to represent her so well. It’s large and sturdy and covered with her computer and various books, but it’s mostly organized. I imagine she spends hours at that desk.
The rest of the furniture is simple and low-priced. She’s a student, after all. But that desk is high-quality. I smile to myself. Of course Cynthia decided to splurge on a tool for her studying.
I wander into the kitchen and start to poke around for something to make her. She said all she had was pasta, but once I open the fridge and a few cabinets, I see that Cynthia has a fairly well-stocked kitchen. She’s got eggs and some vegetables and yogurt anyway, which is a lot more than I kept around when I was her age.
I run my hand over my face at the reminder of our age gap. That might be an even bigger challenge than our timing concern with Cynthia graduating so soon.
We’re in different phases of life. It hasn’t caused any conflict yet, but we’ve only just begun this new dynamic.
It’s undeniable though that I am a settled adult who has found his routine. Some might even call it a rut. Cynthia, on the other hand, is so young. Her life is just beginning. I remember what it was like when I was in my early twenties. Every day was an emotional roller coaster, and there was so much anxiety just from not knowing how everything was going to turn out.
A worm of discomfort crawls through my chest. I don’t want Cynthia to cling to me to assuage her anxiety over the future. I don’t want her to see me as this steadying re-affirming older presence. I can’t quite explain it, but that would make me feel used. I want her to want me for me.
It sounds corny, but I know I can’t be some sort of balm for Cynthia’s stress. Yes, she calls me Daddy in bed, but I don’t think it has anything to do with her having a low self-esteem or actually any daddy issues.
I’ll have to keep an eye on that. For now, I need to stop creating problems out of thin air. I refocus on the kitchen. As we decided together, we need to take this thing one day at a time.
I can’t even call it a “relationship.” Already, it feels like more than hooking up. But I’m definitely not her boyfriend, and I don’t think I want to be. I outgrew that kind of title the second I turned thirty.
Even so, what we have is monogamous. We didn’t say the words out loud, but I know I won’t be going to anyone else for my sexual needs. how could I be satisfied with someone else after what happened between us last night? The sex was so electric, so intoxicating, I’ll need many, many repeat performances.
I pull the eggs out of the fridge, as well as an onion and some cheese. Then I grab the coffee pot and start brewing coffee. I’m assuming she drinks coffee since she has the pot in the middle of her counter, plus I’ve seen her with a thermos leaving her place in the morning.
It feels good to prepare her eggs and toast for breakfast. I’ve never been so eager to take care of someone before. It’s not just that she’s younger that brings out this caring and protective instinct. I think it’s because she deserves to be taken care of. Cynthia is so hard-working and independent, she has earned a break. She is worthy of being looked after.
Just as the coffee is finishing up, she appears in the kitchen. Her hair is tousled and falls in gorgeous waves over her shoulders. Her purple bathrobe, while still secured at the waist, has become loose around her neck, revealing a tantalizing V of skin.
“Good morning,” she says.
I take her in for a moment. How is it possible that she’s this beautiful after just waking up?
She blushes under my gaze and turns her attention towards the coffee pot. “You didn’t have to make me anything.”
“I wanted to,” I say. “Did I wake you up too early?”
“No.” Cynthia shrugs. “I always like to wake up early on Sundays so I can enjoy the whole day off.”
I grin. It’s so typical of her to use that kind of logic. She doesn’t like to waste time or laze about in bed.
I finish up on the eggs as Cynthia pours out two mugs of coffee.
“Cream or sugar?” she asks.
“Just a splash of cream,” I say.
Cynthia nods and adds cream to mine, then a splash to her own mug. She puts in just the tiniest bit of sugar. I realize that I like knowing things like this about her. What she looks like in the morning, how she takes her coffee.
Cynthia hands me two plates, and I dole out the eggs and toast. We then move to the living room to sit down at her small table.
I’m pleased with how comfortable she seems. I was worried she would get panicky again and kick me out and start the whole isolation thing over. I’m still worried that as soon as I leave her, she’ll start overthinking.
For now, though, as she sips her coffee, she seems totally at ease.
“What do you usually do on Sundays?” I ask.
Cynthia contemplates. “It depends. I like to read or watch TV, and then do some studying if I need.”
“You don’t take the full day off?”
“Not really,” she admits with a bashful shrug. “I like to get ahead before the week starts.”
“The semester is almost over,” I point out. “Isn’t your schoolwork letting up?”
“Yeah, I’m in mostly chill classes,” Cynthia says. “I just wanna finish strong so I can go into med school with my head in the game.”
I smile at her intensity. When she talks about medical school, her whole face lights up. It clearly means everything to her.
I’m wary of talking too much about the future, since we agreed to enjoy our present, but I also don’t want to force Cynthia to not discuss something she’s so excited for and has worked so hard for.
“Have you figured out where you’ll live in the city?”
Cynthia shakes her head. “Not yet. My mom and I were going to start looking this summer. I know apartments are pricier so I’ll probably find another med student as a roommate.”
“You’ll like the city,” I say. “Just walking down the street is an adventure.”
Cynthia props her chin on her hand and gazes out the window. “I’m a little nervous. I’ve grown so used to my routine here.”
“You’ll find a new routine.”
“I hope so,” she says.
She glances over at me and blinks, as if realizing the implications of our discussion. We’ve touched on a sensitive area. We’ve acknowledged that things between us cannot last forever. She’s not going to live next door to me for much longer.
“How do you usually spend your Sundays?” she asks.
I shrug. “Depends on how I’m feeling. I definitely don’t work though, I get tired of my computer screen by the end of the week.”
I reach over and touch her hand that’s resting on the table. I haven’t touched her since getting out of bed, and it’s unbearable to be in the same room with her without reaching out.
Instead of pulling away like I feared, she smiles and grips my hand in hers. She leans closer to me. “I’m glad you came over last night.”
“Me too,” I say.
To my utter surprise, she places a kiss on my mouth, lifting her hand to the side of my head. Her lips are gently and almost hesitant, but I deepen the kiss, grasping her waist in my arm and pulling her closer.
When we break the kiss, her cheeks are stained a pretty red, and she lets out a girlish giggle. I’m delighted by how affectionate she is being even though we’re not in the act of having sex. It feels like somehow we took some gigantic step last night, just by having a face to face conversation in which we were honest with each other.
She stands up and starts to clear the plates. “You cooked, so I’ll clean up.”
She carries the stuff into the kitchen and turns the sink on. I lean back in my chair and stretch.
I know I want to stay with her, but I don’t want to be clingy or pressure her to hang out. I consider leaving and giving her space, but the thought of returning to my empty house while knowing she was right here, so close to me, is unpleasant.
Just when I’m trying to figure out what to do, Cynthia calls from the kitchen.
“So I think I’ll shower, but then afterwards, do you wanna go for a walk or something?”
My heart leaps at the invitation. I stand up and lean against the door to the kitchen. “I would love that.”
“Good.” Cynthia nods at me and smiles.
I want to follow her into the shower, but I refrain. Instead, I head over to my place to wash and change clothes.
When I knock on her door, she opens it, a big smile on her face.
“Ready?” she asks.
I nod. I am ready for a day with her. But I’m also starting to think I’m ready for everything with her.
Chapter Nineteen
Cynthia
It took all my bravery to invite him to spend the day with me. Part of me thinks it wasn’t a good idea. If Nate is perfect for a sexual adventure, that doesn’t mean he’s an ideal spend-a-whole-Sunday together material.
In fact, that’s a boyfriend type of thing. Nate is not a boyfriend type of guy. It’s almost laughable to cast him in that role. He’s not some gawky student or young professional. He’s a man.
As I brush my damp hair after my shower, I wonder if he’s ever been a boyfriend. He must have, at some point in his life. It might be inappropriate to ask, but he did say he wants me to be honest with him.
Since the weather is nice, I pull on a plaid skirt over tights and a sweater, then complete the outfit with some durable boots.
When I hear him ring the doorbell, I grab my purse and skip down the steps. It occurs to me that I’ve never felt this excited for any of the dates I’ve ever gone on.
And this isn’t even a real date.
We walk out of the driveway and onto the sidewalk. Without discussing it, we turn away from campus. It’s so early, I highly doubt there will be any of my fellow students out, but I still don’t want to take the risk of running into them. Not that I’m doing anything wrong. And if anyone saw us walking side by side, it’s not like it would start any rumours. We’re not being overly-touchy, and I’m not exactly the type of person who gets gossipped about. I’ve flown under the social radar throughout high school and college.
We wander through the quieter streets of the town, and I enjoy the bursts of greenery from the oak trees planted on the sidewalk.
“You seem thoughtful,” Nate says. “I hope you’re not regretting anything.”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “I’m just thinking about how pleasant this is. I’ve spent so much of my life planning five steps in advance, it’s nice to just enjoy the moment.”
Nate laughs. “I’ve spent most of my life trying to get to a point where I don’t have to plan. I wanted a steady life in a home I owned, and that’s what I’ve got.”
“You never wanted anything else?” I ask. “You just were ok being alone with your job and house?”
I’m prying, but my natural curiosity always gets the best of me.
Nate looks down at me, and I can tell he knows what I’m asking.
“I was married once,” he says. “I was young, and we only lasted a year before divorcing. It kinda turned me off the whole institution.”
It makes perfect sense. Nate is too much of a catch to have been totally single his whole life. And while I’m sure he could get any woman, he doesn’t have the vibe of a player. It’s clear he was burned once and has avoided commitments ever since.
I don’t mind. I don’t expect commitment from him. I have no intention of committing to this, that’s for sure.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It sounds like a sad story.”
“It is,” Nate says. “Too sad for today. But don’t let me make you bitter. I wasn’t as smart as you are when I was young.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m book smart, it’s not the same thing as being wise in other ways.”
“Well, you have good instincts.” Nate snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him so he can plant a kiss on me.
I look around, but the street is empty so I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him back with enthusiasm.
When we pull apart, he releases my waist, only to grab my hand in his. We walk like that for a little longer, slowly circling back to my place.
We spend the rest of the day together. When we’re hungry, Nate invites me over to his place for lunch. He makes grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup while I admire his sleek kitchen and lovely home. It’s clear that he’s spent a lot of time designing his house to be exactly what he wants. I admire that. Nate and I are different; I definitely analyze and stress over the future more. But I think we share a determination. We know what we want, and we both go after it. And right now, I do want Nate. It was silly for me to deny that.
After lunch, we curl up on his large leather couch and watch a movie.
Halfway through, Nate starts to rub his hands up and down my torso until suddenly his hand is under my sweater and caressing my bare skin.
I instantly lose interest in the movie and turn to kiss him. He makes love to me on the couch in a slow and sensual Sunday afternoon way.
Afterwards, I go back to my place because I really do want to get some studying done. Nate doesn’t object or try to convince me not to leave, and I appreciate that.
A few hours later, he shows up at my door with pizza. We eat and joke around, and then he tumbles me into the bed for a rigorous round. I fall into a deep sleep immediately after, our naked limbs tangled up together.
The next day, I head to campus for classes. Nate sees me off and then retreats into his own home for work.
All throughout my first two classes, I can’t stop smiling. Last week I was dazed and out of it, and this week I’m more focused, but every single thing is tinged with happiness, as if I’ve put on rose-tinted glasses.
I know I’m getting really attached to Nate in a really short span of time, but I tell myself it’s just sex. And he’s my first, so of course I’m getting caught up in the heady rush of sensuality.
Everyone is attached to their first. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. I guess only time will tell how attached I end up being to Nate.
All I want to do is finish my classes so I can rush home to Nate so he can do more things to my body, but unfortunately I can’t leave campus early. I have a seminar at 3, so it doesn’t make sense to go all the way home. I head to the cafeteria to meet Becca and Tommy for lunch.
I give myself a stern talking-to as I enter the cafeteria. It won’t do any good to be all giggly in front of them, I don’t want them asking anymore questions. Becca especially will be on high-alert after the stupid online dating story I made up last week. And Tommy will definitely wonder why my mood has been so up and down. I don’t want to dig myself into a big hole of lies with my friends so I decide I need to not expand on my fake internet boyfriend. I’ll just tell them I had a restful weekend or something.
An image of Nate spanking me flashes through my head, and I snort. Restful, indeed.
I see Becca at a table in the corner, and I wave. I head over and set my bag down.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m gonna go grab food.”
I walk slowly through the stations, weighing my options. The truth is, I’m taking a long time on purpose. The longer I take to select food, the less time I have to sit at lunch. I love my friends, but I’m really not in the mood to dodge their questions. Right now, Nate is so new, and I want to keep him private. He belongs to me, and me only. I don’t want to share any part of the fresh development with my friends. It’s selfish, but it’s what I want.<
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When I get back to the table, Tommy has settled in as well. I sit down and smile at my friends.
Becca rants about a class for a while, and I happily just nod along and eat my food.
“Anyway, enough about me,” Becca says suddenly. “What about you, Cynthia?”
She wiggles her eyebrows in a way that makes it abundantly clear she is referring to my internet romance.
“I had a good weekend of just chilling, but nothing new.” I give her a look. “Seriously, nothing.”
I hope that will get her off my back. She couldn’t have had super high hopes for my internet boyfriend anyway.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and we really need to prioritize enjoying our senior spring.” Becca spreads her hands as if she’s outlining a super important plan of attack. “We have spent four years working hard, it’s time to actually savor our final days as undergrads. That means no more bailing on parties, you two!”
Tommy and I exchange looks. Becca is by far the more extroverted one in our group. The two of us are the ones who are likely to opt to stay in and watch a movie instead of going out. But I do want to make Becca happy. I’m going to miss her next year.
“Of course,” I say. “I can’t promise you a ton of wild nights, but I’m in.”
Internally, I think that I actually will be having some wild nights, just not with college friends. With Nate. I smile to myself.
I never knew it could be this fun to have a secret.
“I’m only going if we all go,” Tommy says. “Becca, you always abandon us at those parties to flirt with some guy, I’m not going to be left alone in a corner.”
Becca rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t be alone if you found people to talk to!”
“Don’t worry, I won’t abandon you.” I smile at Tommy, but then immediately regret my comment when his eyes light up. I didn’t mean to give him hope or be vaguely flirtatious, I was just trying to be nice. Now he looks like he can’t wait to be alone in a corner of a party with me.
