7. Paul and Trish’s Wedding, October 2016 #4
Now that she was more experienced, she found that her feelings about casual sex had shifted dramatically.
When she was twenty-one, hooking up with Ren would have been a devastating mistake, and she had been right to avoid it.
But this felt different. They lived a thousand miles away.
They couldn’t make commitments. They were just two friends seizing a little time together, exorcising the hurts of the past. She could hold him, kiss him over and over, and go home knowing that they had shared something special with each other.
She thought about the redhead from the day before.
If Ren could sleep with a stranger, surely he could sleep with Sarah.
Surely Sarah would be judged worthy for one night of passion, especially if she was leaving the next day.
Sex could be healing. Ren had said it himself, all those years ago. Maybe he had been right.
The thought made her feel shy around him.
It made her feel shy when they entered a small party room with a sparkling view of the Las Vegas sunset.
It made her feel shy when he brought her a glass of champagne.
All the single women’s eyes were on him, of course, and that made it feel even more strange that he was so focused on her.
There were Trish’s actress and model friends, long-legged and artfully coiffed, but Ren didn’t leave her side.
The speeches came after the meal, fast and funny.
Paul’s buddy Ian, who knew the bride and groom from a play they’d all been in, told amusingly pointed stories about meeting them both—stories that made Trish sound finicky and Paul sound prone to self-sabotage.
Trish’s sister Eleanor spoke about how marvelous Paul was, gushing over him in a way that Sarah found wonderfully accurate.
Then there was music from a DJ, and Sarah tried to focus on dancing with the whole crowd, scared to find out what it would be like to dance just with Ren.
Finally, he came close to her, moving in that understated way that she had found sexy at Kristie’s parties back in undergrad, and it was almost too much.
A slow song came on, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He slipped his hands around her waist, his fingers warm, his breath against her shoulder. The music filled the air around them like a thick blanket. She rested against his shoulder and shook her head.
“What is it?” Ren asked in her ear.
“It’s just…” She hesitated. “Being around you again. It’s strange. It’s a nice strange.”
“It is,” he agreed, looking into her eyes. He really was looking at her like he was going to kiss her and she looked up at him until the tension grew almost unbearable.
The music grew faster then, and they slowly parted, returning to their chairs. He brought her a drink of water when she said she was worried about a hangover on her flight, and when he handed it to her, his fingertips touched hers like a promise.
It finally grew late, so she said goodnight to Paul and Trish, then told Ren that she was going to bed. Ren followed her out. If this raised any eyebrows, Sarah couldn’t find it within herself to care. Her heart was beating faster, her breath shallow.
They stood inside the hotel elevator in silence as it went down from the penthouse floor where they had held the small reception down to the floor where she was staying. Ren was parked in the basement somewhere, and she waited to see what he would do.
“Wait. What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Ren asked at last as the elevator arrived at her floor. He stepped out of the elevator and stood with her there.
“Noon tomorrow. I should probably leave for the airport around ten.”
He nodded. “Right.”
This was it. She waited for him to hurt her, to say that he wasn’t interested. And that would be okay, she told herself. She was tougher than she once had been. “I want to keep hanging out with you,” he said. “I know you’re tired, but if you’re willing to stay up for a bit, I’d like that.”
“Do you want to come and sit on my bed and we’ll find a terrible movie or something?”
He nodded silently and followed her down the hall.
Had she been too obvious? The strange part was that she really would be content just to watch a movie with him, as long as it meant that he stayed.
Sitting together until dawn watching movies and chatting would still be better than nothing.
Kissing would be preferable, but she would take whatever he was offering.
When she entered her room, she let the door slide shut with a soft click behind them.
Only one light was on, just at the doorway, and she didn’t turn on the others yet.
She just stood still, gazing at him, trying to read the moment, nervous from trying not to ruin things.
Her whole body was aware of his presence as he watched her from a foot away.
They hadn’t moved. He gave a little half-smile and then raised one warm hand to her cheek, caressing her, then leaned forward and kissed her.
Her heart was already racing. The kiss was tender and lingering, and it felt absurdly, shockingly good.
She had always assumed that he would be decent at kissing, but this felt perfect enough to make her giddy…
like jumping off the edge of a cliff and discovering that you could fly.
She leaned into the kiss, sliding her hand around his neck, pulling him towards her as he slid his fingers around her lower back, pressing their bodies together.
He ended the kiss slowly, then stared at her for a moment. That did not feel like a one-night stand kiss, Sarah thought hazily. Her cheeks grew flushed and she felt close to tears.
“Sarah,” he whispered tenderly, pressing his nose against her cheek, resting there.
She tilted her head to kiss him again fervently, wrapping both arms around his shoulders, trying to tell him everything she didn’t dare to say: that she cared about him, that his ex-wife was wrong about him, that he was wonderful, that even though they couldn’t have a relationship, they could have this. A night together. Just this once.
He responded with as much intensity, backing her up against the wall with his whole body, pinning her with his warmth as if to make sure she didn’t go anywhere.
One of his arms braced against the wall, the other pulling her waist toward him, and she felt breathless with how good it felt.
This was so much better than she could have imagined, so extraordinarily good that it made her want to laugh.
Of course it was incredible. Of course it always would have been.
He slid one of the straps of her dress away from her shoulder to kiss her there, and she felt like swooning in his arms.
“Sarah,” he whispered against her neck. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“Ren.” Her voice sounded faint and breathless.
She ran a hand through his curls the way she’d wanted to do since her freshman year.
They were thick and soft, lush between her fingers.
She stroked her hands along the sides of his head tenderly.
“Ren,” she said again, spoiling herself with the sound of his name in her mouth.
She loved him. She had to be careful not to say that.
“Since freshman year, you’ve been in my head,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder, her neck, the bottom of her chin.
“God, I was so in love with you back then,” she said.
He paused, then went completely still against her. “What?”
She blinked as he pulled back to look at her.