Chapter 15
That night, Rob and Natalie lay next to each other in the bed, light off, their bodies stiff, Rob extremely aware of the six inches between them. Natalie turned over, her arm brushing against his.
“Sorry!” she said.
“No, I’m sorry.” He scooted closer to the edge of the bed.
They’d performed their nighttime routines in silence. At one point, he’d caught sight of her in the bathroom as he passed by in the hallway. She was flossing her teeth aggressively and scowling at her reflection in the mirror, as if to say that while she might not have a book deal, she would at least have strong and healthy gums.
The house creaked around them, the wind outside rustling through the branches. Rob normally only slept in his boxers. Maybe a thin T-shirt on top in the dead of winter. But tonight, he’d felt it prudent to keep as many layers between him and Natalie as possible, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and shorts on top of his boxers. He was far too warm underneath the blankets, but removing any clothes now could only lead to chaos.
She lay still beside him as his own body jittered with adrenaline. Had she managed to fall asleep, despite everything? Perhaps she had been telling the truth in the lake—it had been a momentary urge for her, meaning nothing. She did have an impulsive streak. He didn’t want to disturb her, so, quietly, he tried to wriggle out from underneath the covers, turning first one way and then the other, and when he turned briefly toward the side of the bed where she’d been curled into a ball, she was turning his way too.
Despite the darkness, he could just make out the features of her face, scrubbed free of any makeup. Her lake-soaked hair had dried into wild curls in the sun and the wind. His heart began to thud.
“Having trouble falling asleep?” she whispered, mint toothpaste on her breath.
“It appears so.”
“Me too.” She sighed, a low, sad sound, and he felt an almost irresistible urge to comfort her, just like earlier in the day.
“Are you still feeling bad about the book?”
“Strangely enough, it might take me longer than half a day to get over the dashing of my dreams.” He was silent, and after a moment, she began, “Do you think—” She cut herself off.
“What?”
“Could you hold me, for just a minute?”
Rob hesitated. The feeling of her body tangled up with his in the water came flooding back to him. It had been hard enough to pull himself away from her the first time.
She turned her face up to the ceiling. “Never mind. Sorry, I just thought it might help—”
“No, that’s…Sure.” Rob moved closer to her, and she turned over, facing away. Leaving a few inches between their bodies, he tentatively wrapped an arm around her. For a moment, she did not seem to breathe, and Rob realized that he was holding his own breath too, fighting an urge to pull her fully against him. She reached her hand up and clasped his forearm, and they stayed like that for a minute, a minute of agony that bordered on sublime.
Then she turned around to face him again.
This did not make any sense. Back across the country, he had a smart, attractive woman with whom he’d gone on five dates. Zuri was kind and interesting, a high achiever who knew how to handle any social situation with aplomb. He could get to her place with a simple six-minute walk instead of a six-hour flight. They got on swimmingly, never argued. She even had the same dietary restrictions as him—they were both pescatarians—which, looking into the future, would make life together much easier. The last time they were supposed to see each other, he’d come down with a terrible cold. She’d canceled their date, which was very sensible—she was on an important deadline and could not afford to get sick herself. But she’d made him soup, excellent soup, and homemade bread (!), and dropped it off outside his door. (In contrast, Rob was willing to bet that Natalie was the kind of person who’d insist on seeing a sick partner anyway, insist on kissing him, only to get horribly sick herself, thus requiring that partner to take care of her.) After eating Zuri’s bread, he’d almost called her up right then and there to ask her to be his girlfriend, but he’d held off—perhaps it had felt strange to do something so important over the phone. But she felt like his girlfriend, right? He’d already told his parents that she was.
So why in the world was he six inches away from frustrating, messy, stubborn Natalie, fixating on her bottom lip, aching to lean forward and kiss her again?
The voice boomed in his head: What’s the argument for this? Defend it. His father across the dinner table, barking at him whenever Rob said something that didn’t quite make sense. Go on, back up your position. And to this indefensible position in which Rob currently found himself, Rob had nothing to say besides Well, because I want to. Very, very much.
On the other hand, he could make a million arguments for why he should immediately get out of bed and return to the torture couch. Beyond the Zuri of it all and the fact that Natalie was chaos incarnate, she had been awful to his best friend. And she’d done nothing to make up for it, as far as Rob could tell. Even here on this weekend, which Angus had gifted them all, Natalie seemed simply to tolerate him, showing no particular interest in his life. After how she’d treated him in her novel, she should—Rob didn’t know—be bringing Angus breakfast in bed! Picking him flowers from the bushes outside! How could Rob date someone who would be cruel to somebody like Angus simply for her own advancement? (He already had one person in his life who put his own success over everyone else’s feelings, and that was plenty.) And how hurt would Angus be if he realized what Natalie’s book contained, how wounded if he learned that Rob had known and decided to be with Natalie anyway? Angus was the kind of guy who would defend the people he loved until his dying breath, and he deserved the same.
“Maybe we could…” Natalie began in a low, throaty voice. He pulled his arm away from her, drawing back, trying to maintain an iota of control. Natalie bit her lip.
“What?” he asked. Was she going to ask for more? Despite his better judgment, he could feel with startling clarity how easy it would be to wrap himself around her, taste her, touch her. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. But as their eyes met again, the million arguments in his head grew fuzzy, impossible to grasp. He leaned closer. Despite Zuri and Angus and Natalie herself, he could. He would.
Natalie opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, in a rush, she said, “We could hate-fuck.”
For a moment, his ability to speak deserted him. Her words reverberated in his head. A hate-fuck, as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat. In the face of his silence, she went on.
“I know we’re both starting things with other people. But we haven’t defined anything yet, right?” Her voice had lost its throaty edge. The more his own face closed off, the more casual Natalie’s tone seemed to become. “And clearly we’re attracted to each other. So, for just this one night, this one time, we get it out of our systems. And then we don’t have to think about it again.”
Her hair was falling in her face, her chest rising and lowering, her lips slightly parted. What an idiot he was, considering going against all his principles for something meaningless. She craved a quick distraction, and he was the guy available in her moment of need.
His voice was hoarse when it came out. “No.”
Sure, the physical temptation remained. But this was for the best. Because doing something you wanted to do just one time didn’t always work. You didn’t get it out of your system. You opened the floodgates. There were days that Rob didn’t feel like showing up to guest-lecture his classes. He wanted to call in sick, get in his car, and drive. But that wouldn’t cure him or make him appreciate his job more. The likelier scenario was that he would just keep driving into a whole different life, disappointing everyone who had worked so hard for him to be where he was, the advisers who’d advocated for him, the journals that had given him space, his family. (And where would he even go? What was he meant for if not academia?)
Besides, in grad school, he’d tried having sex with two women he was dating at the same time, nonexclusively, just to see where things went. He simply did not have the bandwidth. It didn’t make him feel adventurous, just insincere. He grew stressed, miserable, second-guessing his feelings at every turn. It was the tyranny of choice, the same way he didn’t like going to restaurants with more than one page of options on their menu. If he had sex with Natalie right now, he’d clench up the next time he saw Zuri. Not to mention that he and Zuri had discussed STI testing before having sex without a condom the first time, affirming that they hadn’t been intimate with anyone else since getting a clean bill of health. He’d have to go back to her and say that the circumstances had changed. And relationships at the beginning were so tenuous, so fragile. Zuri might draw back, and this one night of giving in to what he wanted would ruin their bright future. (He could not believe that his mind was even processing these thoughts now with Natalie so close to him, her eyes so big.)
“No?” Natalie asked, the word wobbling as it came out, and for a moment he thought that maybe she hadn’t viewed him as a piece of meat after all.
“It’s not a good idea.”
She lay back, focusing on the ceiling again, her breath speeding up. Then she rose in one rapid movement, threw the covers back, and walked out of the room.
He sat up too, awake as if he’d downed a pitcher of cold brew. Should he go after her? Offer to sleep on the couch? Maybe she just needed some space. He’d found a strange pleasure in comforting Natalie earlier on the dock, but lest he forget, she was dangerous, with a talent for tearing down that she could wield like a sword.
Dammit.He’d go talk to her anyway. He swung his feet out of bed. But as he rose to standing, Angus stumbled in, half-asleep, almost knocking over a lamp in his disorientation.
“Scoot over, buddy. Natalie took my spot, so we’re bunking up,” he mumbled, then immediately splayed out over two-thirds of the bed’s surface and began to snore.
The next morning, with the hours before they’d have to leave rapidly dwindling, Angus poked Rob awake, bouncing in excitement. “We have to try the inflatable kayak! I’m not leaving before we do.”
Angus did not drink coffee. Rob downed at least four cups a day—he used to only drink one, but grad school changed him—and yet he’d never artificially gotten himself even close to Angus’s natural energy.
Out onto the water they went, heading toward a small island with a rocky beach. Angus was not an amazing paddler—he’d get caught up in telling a story, and begin to gesticulate, and somebody had to keep the boat sloshing through the water. Rob charted a steady course as Angus chattered away about the new directions the Futon King was thinking of taking with the store. (“I suggested he expand into futons for pets, and he’s looking into it!”)
“And are you feeling ready to start the new job?” Rob asked.
“At Insight? Oh yeah. All the normal first-day jitters, of course. But it really changes things for me, you know? Proves my success so far wasn’t a fluke.”
“Did you think it was a fluke before? You’ve worked so hard.”
“I know, I know. But this is a whole new level of respect, not to mention of money. I can shower Gabby in…” Angus furrowed his face.
“Fur coats,” Rob grunted, muscles aching as he steered them closer to their destination.
“With how much she loves animals? If I gave her a fur coat, she’d probably divorce me. Designer bags, maybe. Is that something women care about?”
“Don’t ask me,” Rob said, giving a final paddle and taking them to shore.
They lay back on the sand, turning their faces to the sun. “But speaking of new jobs,” Angus said, “how excited was Arizona when you told them yes?”
Rob held a hand over his face to block the light. “I haven’t responded to them yet.”
“Really?” Angus sat up. “What are you waiting for?”
“Oh, I don’t know. They told me that I have until the middle of next week to make the decision. So I thought I should sit with it.”
“I didn’t realize it was a decision,” Angus said.
Rob sat up too. “It’s not, really. Sure, lately the work has been”—Unrelenting? A bit boring? Somehow extremely stressful while seeming meaningless in terms of practical application?—“a lot. But it would be ridiculous to say no. I’m lucky to have gotten this offer.” He dug a stick into the ground, scratching a line into the damp sand. “Even if it’s partially nepotism.”
“Stop that! You got this. You’re brilliant.”
“Yes, but there are lots of brilliant people in academia, and most of them can’t get a job.”
“Hey, I know what it’s like growing up with a big-deal dad. The Futon King casts a long shadow. That’s why I wanted to carve my own path. So I get if you’re having doubts.”
Rob couldn’t even think about doubts right now, not after everything else that had gone on this weekend. So he merely said, “I suppose you shouldn’t run away from something just because a parent has already done it well.”
“Hm.” Angus peered at him. “You think?”
“Take Laura Dern.”
“Oh, I love Laura Dern!”
“The world would be a worse place if she’d looked at her parents’ successful careers and said, ‘They’ve already conquered acting, I guess I should be a lawyer instead.’?” Rob stopped scraping the dirt, letting the stick fall.
“Righto,” Angus said. “No Jurassic Park.”
“Well, they still would have made that movie. Just with a different actress. But it wouldn’t have been as good. And think of how her absence would have affected Blue Velvet, Citizen Ruth—” Angus was still nodding along, but less assuredly now, and Rob caught himself. “You haven’t seen any of those, have you?”
“No. But I do love The Truman Show.”
“That’s Laura Linney. Anyways. The metaphor has gotten away from me.”
“Well, do you love academia like Laura Dern loves acting?” Rob hesitated, and Angus waggled his finger in warning. “Don’t you dare say something like ‘What is love anyway?’?”
Rob swallowed, because that had been exactly what he was going to say. “I don’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Angus put his hands on his hips, the picture of a stern father. “Natalie seemed pretty upset when she came into our room. Now, you know you’re my best friend, so I take your side in things, but I have to ask: Were you mean to her? Because she’s practically family now, so I have to stick up for her too.”
Rob scoffed. “You ever stop to think that maybe Natalie could have been the mean one?”
“Natalie, mean? Never!” Angus chortled. “Well, unless you’re one of those poor saps trying to date her. After hearing some of her stories…” He looked more closely at Rob. “Wait, are you trying to date her?” He lit up. “Ooh, you should!”
“Didn’t you just call her suitors ‘poor saps’?”
“But our children could be like cousins!” Rob narrowed his eyes, and Angus went on. “Besides, they’re just poor saps because she’s not excited about most of them. Except maybe this Jeff guy. He seems to be sticking around. So if you want to get in there, you’ve got to make an aggressive play now—”
“I’m not trying to ‘get in there,’?” Rob said. “I want to be with Zuri.”
“Right, Zuri!” Angus clapped his hands together. “Well, Gabby and I will have to befriend her too. Because I’m into this kids-like-cousins idea now.”