25 Samantha
25
SAMANTHA
H E UNLOCKED THE door to his apartment and held it open for me.
“I wish you would have told me you were coming. I would have gotten iced coffee for the fridge.”
He was still smiling.
I remembered all the times Mom would come surprise me at grade school with lunch from some fast-food place I liked. I’d be glowing the whole rest of the day. I’d loved when she stepped into my little world. Sit with me at the long lunch table and talk to my friends. After we’d eaten I’d walk her down the hall and show her the artwork I’d done, hanging on the walls. I felt so proud to show her off.
I think it was a little like that for Xavier.
He’d shown me around the employee-only area of the clinic, introduced me formally to Tina and Maggie—who were vibrating, they were so happy to officially meet me. I got the sense from the private knowing glances that the women had given each other that Xavier did not grin at work. He’d been grinning the whole time. I’d loved it.
I got to see his office and the break table where he ate his lunches and the photo of the grand opening. I played with Jake.
I’d stood for an extra-long time in front of his framed veterinary license on the wall, studying it. I was so proud of him.
He’d done that. He was that smart. That driven. He’d done that without a family at his back, helping him along or propping him up. His friends had been there, but it’s not the same.
Looking around his office, I could see why he wouldn’t walk away from this. He’d worked way too hard for it. I wouldn’t want him to give any of this up or ruin his life by leaving it behind.
Not even for me.
“Where do you want to eat dinner?” he said, taking my luggage to his room.
“I don’t care,” I said, looking around. His apartment was clean, like it had been the first time I was there. Jake from State Farm plopped onto a dog bed next to the sofa that hadn’t been there last time. Still no clown suits. I followed Xavier into his bedroom.
I’d never been in here.
His bed was roughly made, like he’d had only a second to put it together when he’d left. No clothes on the floor. A hoodie I was going to steal and a towel tossed on a chair, but otherwise neat.
He had a shell on his nightstand.
He swiveled my luggage into a corner, then turned around and pulled me into another embrace. He was so happy to see me. I could feel it in his arms, in his energy. It pulsed through him like electricity and it lit me up too.
He leaned down and kissed me, smiling against my mouth. “Go somewhere or delivery?” he whispered.
“Hmmmm,” I said, feeling the hard edge of something I liked pressing through his scrubs. “Delivery.”
He dipped his head to kiss me again. We kissed for a long time. We kissed like kissing was the whole point. Like we’d both been thinking about this one thing and now we finally got to do it and all we wanted was to stand here and get really good at it. He was hard and I could feel him against my thigh, but it wasn’t about that yet. It was just about this.
“I was thinking that we could take a bath,” I whispered.
He was unbuttoning my sweater. “We could do that,” he said, against my lips, his voice low.
“I don’t have a bathtub in my apartment,” I said distractedly, running my hands along the inside of the waistband of his pants.
“Uh-huh,” he said, walking me backward to the bed. When the back of my knees hit the mattress I sat and he peeled my sweater off me, then took off his shirt next.
My pulse quickened.
He was standing between my open knees and I was face-to-face with the trail of hair that disappeared into his pants. I followed it down with the tips of my fingers and I could feel his breathing pick up as I traced the outline of the ridge pressing against the fabric. He stood in front of me like an underwear model, gazing at me from above, his hair shaggy over his eyes. When I leaned forward to glide my tongue along his stomach, he raked fingers into the back of my hair and the hammer in my chest thudded against my rib cage.
I wanted him to eat me alive.
He pushed me back on the bed. I lifted my hips while he slid my pants and underwear down my thighs. Then he climbed onto the bed and pulled me to his mouth.
Xavier liked foreplay, and he was really good at it. He liked to get me almost to the finish line and then pull back, make me want to beg—which I was not above doing.
When my legs started to shake, he got up and went to the duffel bag that he’d taken to California and pulled a condom out of it. I watched him roll it on. He never broke eye contact once.
“I’m not gonna walk for a week, am I?” I asked, propped on my elbows, out of breath.
“I’ll carry you anywhere you need to go,” he said, lowering himself over me. I giggled and he smiled, breathing into the kiss he pressed to my mouth.
“I missed you so much,” he whispered.
“I missed you too. My boyfriend.” I smiled.
His face lit up at the word. I had wondered if it had the same kind of magic that girlfriend had for me. I guess it did.
He slipped fingers between my legs and I arched against him, biting my lip.
“Should I make you wait?” he asked, his voice husky.
“No, you should make me scream.”
He grinned and eased himself inside me. I disintegrated on the third thrust.
There was simply no substitute for this. Not the pictures we would send each other or the video calls we would do. There were pheromones at work, bonding us and pulling us in. Making him familiar, turning me on, creating real time changes in my body that he got to touch and taste and feel.
Living apart was going to be so incredibly difficult. I wouldn’t be able to hear his breath in my ear or wrap my legs around the sharp angle of his hips or tangle my fingers through his hair. I couldn’t be caged between his arms and anchored under his weight and feel him spill inside me.
I wanted the immersive experience every time. But I’d only get this once in a while. He’d only get this once in a while.
We’d just have to make it count.
Three hours later we were under his covers. His skin smelled like the peach bubble bath I’d brought with me. I was swirling lazy circles with my pruned fingers on his chest.
“Can you come to the cabin?” he asked.
I tipped my head up to look at him. “When?”
“December twenty-eighth through January second.”
“Sure. I think I have the PTO.”
“I can buy your ticket—”
“No, I’ll buy it,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to pay for everything.” I put my cheek to his chest. “Promise me when we’re up there we’ll bed rot. Just do absolutely nothing just like this,” I said.
“I wouldn’t call this nothing.”
“No, you’re right. One of us worked very hard tonight.”
He chuckled.
I lay there another moment. Then I sighed. “I have to get up and iron my clothes for tomorrow.” I started getting out of bed.
“I’ll do it,” he said, getting up.
“No, you don’t have to iron my stuff.”
“I want to.”
He jumped into gray sweatpants—an activity that should be an Olympic sport. Perfect form. I gave him a ten.
I pulled on my shirt and leggings so I could dig in my luggage. “I’m not used to wearing pants to work,” I said, holding up the slacks I got. “I had to go buy something.”
He put on a hoodie and went to get the ironing board from his closet.
I gave him my clothes and then wandered out to get something to drink.
“Hey, can you let out Jake?” he called.
“Yup.”
I let the dog out onto the little patio and then headed to the kitchen. “You want water?” I called.
“Sure.”
I grabbed two glasses and went to fill them from the tap. But then I thought maybe he had a Brita or something so I opened his fridge to poke around.
He had a bottle of Murkle’s in the door. He’d tossed the French’s mustard.
My heart melted.
He hadn’t known I was coming. He just had this in a secret show of loyalty. Honoring all my tiny allegiances and petty vendettas.
This was my love language.
I took it out of the fridge and brought it back with me to the room. “I see you’ve been converted,” I said, leaning in the doorway, holding up the yellow bottle.
He looked over. “Have you seen their marketing? How could I not?”
I grinned at him. So handsome. Standing over an ironing board, pressing my shirt—in gray sweatpants no less.
A core memory.
The best moments don’t have to be big to be forever.
My chest got a little tight. This was the guy. This was who I was supposed to be with. I was so sure about it suddenly.
All my best days would be like this. The two of us together.
But most of our days would be spent apart.