4. Four
Four
Noah
I don’t think I’ve ever dressed myself faster.
I’m not sure what lit the fire under my ass, but getting her address seems like winning the jackpot with the way she’s kept me at a distance all this time.
The opportunity to explain myself happens to motivate me, but the acceptance into her space sends a thrill through my blood. It’s a stamp of approval I’ve been desperate for since last spring.
At the art show, Lennon had found her way to the patio to see her date pissed off and walking out with a shitty it’s been fun .
I’d been caught red-handed, and I guess she needed someone to throw her anger at. That person being me, obviously.
Months of disapproval, snide remarks, and unfortunate misunderstandings, and I finally have an opportunity to set the record straight and crack the code that is Lennon Yarrow. While I feel a bit like Sam from Holes , fixing her toilet for such an opportunity seems like an adequate exchange.
Charlie walks back into her bedroom, still very much naked, with her blonde hair kissing her shoulders. Her eyes meet mine as I pull on my other shoe.
“Sorry,” I say, but the word sounds hollow. “Something came up.”
I stand, my body itching to leave.
A soft hand slides over my shoulders, down my chest as she rises onto her toes, her lips ghosting over my ear. “Why don’t you stay this time?”
Oof . That is my cue to exit the premises and note that this will not be happening again.
I met Charlie at a bar just inside the city. It’s one Griffin, Ryan, and I frequent. One drink buys you access to all the arcade games, so it makes for a good time.
The night Charlie had invited me home, she’d been trying her hand at Pac-Man, and I’d been trying my hand at getting to know her better. And by that, I mean learning the sounds she made with me inside her.
Since Alexis, I’ve played this part numerous times. No attachments and casual sex satiates whatever desire I used to have for a relationship. The sex is great–better than it was with my ex, which probably says something about that relationship to begin with. But I spend most of my days with my family or working at the college. The sex offers an opportunity to get all my pent-up energy out of my system–an escape.
It’s a fantastic arrangement that requires no strings, no commitment, and no opportunities to give away any pieces of myself aside from what my physical body can offer for a short time.
The relationship aspect is a sensitive topic, but essentially, it's way easier when the sex remains casual.
Which is why this will be the third and final time I will have slept with this woman.
“You know,” I say, gently grabbing her wrists. I kiss her palm to ease whatever guilt I feel. “I think maybe this should be the last time we do this.”
A frown pulls at the corners of her lips, still swollen. “You don’t mean that.”
I wince. “I thought I was pretty clear about what I wanted when we started this.”
Charlie turns, grabbing her t-shirt from the floor and pulling it over her head–her movements rushed. The band shirt hits mid-thigh, and while normally the sight would send me in for another round, I can’t stop thinking about the goddamn toilet I need to fix. I’m not handy, I don’t know exactly how I’m going to pull this off, but I need to talk to Lennon.
“You said we were welcome to sleep with other people and that things would be casual,” she says, rehashing what I’d told her from the very beginning.
“Exactly.”
“Noah.” Her head tilts to the side, shoulders slumping. “This is like the fourth time we’ve slept together in the last two months.”
“Third,” I correct, running my hand through my already mussed hair. I hope Lennon doesn’t see it for what it is–sex hair. Oddly enough, I don’t want her knowing how I spent my evening.
Charlie huffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Okay, third.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as her body language shifts. “So, we’ve slept together three times. I originally thought it would be just once, but then you texted me, and we saw a movie.”
I can see her closing in on herself, and I feel it–the itchy guilt that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. It’s not like I wasn’t clear with her, but I hate feeling like she misunderstood my intentions.
There just can’t be a relationship. Charlie doesn’t know me, and I don’t know her. There is also the very real possibility that if she were allowed to get to know me, I would not be what she was looking for.
I’m good at what I’m good at. And at this point in my life, it’s teaching literature and sex.
Not at the same time.
The emotional cost of a relationship is far too high.
“I know.” I inhale the lingering scent of lemongrass from the candle on her dresser, releasing the breath with an exasperated sigh. “But I still said no strings attached.”
Charlie’s eyes refuse to meet mine as she stares at the wall, her arms still crossed. “I haven’t slept with anyone else.” Her voice sounds small.
Yikes.
My brain short circuits. I’m at a loss here.
“I never said we had to be exclusive. Again, you were welcome to sleep with other people.” The words cut cold, their bitter taste souring any feelings of attachment Charlie might have been harboring.
This was probably a mistake.
“I just thought–”
I clear my throat, and her words die out. Her brown eyes look lighter–almost hazel–and I’m pretty sure she’s about to cry.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“You know what?” Charlie waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” She walks back toward the restroom, refusing to look at me. “Have a nice night, Noah.”
Standing in the center of her bedroom, it takes me a moment before my feet are moving. I’m no stranger to situations like this, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel like an ass.
And maybe I am.
I can’t offer what Charlie is looking for. Relationships require too much trust and vulnerability, and I’m not sure I could offer those things again. I’m not cut out for that kind of commitment.
Eventually, whatever novelty there is will wear off, and Charlie will find herself looking for fulfillment elsewhere.
It’s exactly what Alexis did.
The disappointment that flooded Charlie’s features follows me onto her porch and all the way to my car sitting in her driveway. I can’t say that the guilt doesn’t sting.
Or maybe the stinging was the brisk autumn air that appeared as the sun descended on the horizon.
When I enter the address for Lennon’s new house, I leave the guilt and discomfort behind me. My fingers tap against the steering wheel, desperate to get rid of my anxious energy as I listen to the YouTube tutorial I found before pulling out of Charlie’s driveway. Hopefully, by the time I get to the house, I’ll be able to fix the toilet, no problem.
As for Lennon’s distaste for me? I’m not sure that’s something that could ever be fixed.
And I’m not sure why I’m so obsessed with wanting it to be.