Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
“I know you think you’ve turned me into something I’ll regret, but make no mistake—I’ve made these choices again and again because I want to.
Because I want you. Because I like you. Because you’re honest and funny and bold and brave, and you have such a softer heart than you want people to know.
Because you never try to turn me into somebody else, or tell me I can’t be all these different pieces.
You’ve never made me feel like I can’t be the guy who davens three times a day and has a chavrusa every morning just because I’ve discovered I quite like ‘sin and debauchery’ too. ”
“Maybe I should.”
He was pretty sure she meant it to sting, but it didn’t, not even a little bit. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you like all those things about me, actually. I think you like me the way I am. But maybe I am just seeing what I want to see, so I’m gonna ask you point-blank—is it just physical for you?”
“And if I said yes?”
“Then I’d be ninety percent sure you’re lying, but I’d accept it.”
She scowled but said nothing, and his mouth quirked up at the silence he took for confirmation. “That’s what I thought.”
“So maybe we’re both trying to make it more than it is.”
“Ari, you can’t convince me there’s nothing to the fact that I don’t share my personal space with anyone but didn’t hesitate for a second about asking you to stay the night.”
“There was a storm,” she said weakly.
“That night, yes, but I have never stopped wanting you to stay the night. My bed has never stopped feeling empty without you in it. That isn’t about fooling around. And if you don’t believe me, then tell me this—how many guys have you been with since we first kissed?”
She opened her mouth and shut it, her eyes narrowing. “That’s none of your business.”
“No, it isn’t, and I don’t need the answer, but we both know it. There’s something real here, Ari. Something involving actual feelings. Are you really telling me you don’t feel it too?”
I like you. He’d said so many words that night, but those were the three bouncing around in her head, words she felt silly taking as seriously as she was.
But then, he’d said them seriously, confidently, as if he genuinely liked who she was as a person and not just the things she could do with her tongue.
Funny how she wasn’t sure if a guy had ever said those words to her before without ulterior motives.
She let out a long, shaky breath, trying to figure out a response that wouldn’t betray herself completely.
“Of course I feel something, Judah, but—”
“Just stop there,” he pleaded, placing gentle palms on her cheeks. “No buts. We don’t need to hash this all the way out tonight. I just…” He exhaled slowly. “I missed you. And I needed to say I’m sorry, and to know you heard it. And I’d really like to hold you, if you’ll let me.”
She didn’t answer—couldn’t—but her body moved to make space for him on the bed next to her, as if knowing exactly what it needed.
His sigh of relief as he lowered himself down and wrapped his arms around her gently stirred her hair, and the solid feeling of his chest under her cheek nearly brought tears to her eyes.
They lay in silence for what could’ve been minutes or hours, his fingers stroking her curls, and it felt so perfectly right that it made Ari’s heart ache.
Every caress of her hair was the perfect combination of affectionate and possessive, and while she wouldn’t go so far as to say it was even better than having those fingers between her thighs, it was not as far off as it should’ve been.
He liked her—not just fooling around with her, but her.
He was lying in her bed and stroking her hair and asking a guy he barely knew to be his therapist so he could figure out his shit for her.
And God, she wanted to believe there was a point to it, that there was a future there, but the only thing in her head louder than “I like you” was the line that’d been filling up her brain since their date.
What a downgrade.
It wasn’t that she believed it, or thought Judah did, but the idea of other people looking at them and thinking it, thinking that he was somehow slumming it with her … it made her want to throw up.
How many times would it take Judah hearing that before he started to believe it too?
And how many people would have to disapprove of her before his career took a hit?
And how long was liking her good for, anyway? Because sure, they could try another date, two dates, three, but what happened when her novelty wore off and Judah went back on the wife hunt?
She was so lost in her spiraling thoughts that she nearly forgot he was right there with her until he bent over her, smiling as their eyes met. “You were lying so still, I thought you fell asleep.”
“Your hair stroking is very soothing.” She yawned as if to illustrate its effects.
He laughed gently. “I used to sing my mom to sleep sometimes, after my dad left. She called me Human Melatonin. Apparently putting women to sleep is my lot in life.”
“Stop being cute,” she grumbled, rolling off him and burying her face in a pillow. “It’s confusing.”
“How would you like me to be?”
“I don’t know.” She peered up at him. “Are you gonna tell me what you talked about with Gideon tonight?”
“What do you think I talked about with Gideon tonight? Roses versus calla lilies?” He lowered his forehead to hers until they were a kiss’s distance apart.
“I told him about how you have an absolutely vicious hold on me that I’m still trying to understand.
Turns out I may have been undercounting the sexual chemistry factor.
Apparently, when you have it with exactly one person in the entire world, you should maybe dig into that. Says Gideon. But what does he know?”
“I never listen to a word he says.”
“That tracks.” He rubbed a thumb gently over her lower lip. “Relatedly, it is apparently ‘not insignificant’ to feel comfortable enough with someone to be your whole self with them, even when your whole self is basically just a secret pervert.”
“Judah.” Her heart ached at the sadness in his voice, the guilt that never would’ve been there if they hadn’t gotten together.
It was a mistake having him here, thinking they could be something when she was only ever going to bring him down—personally, professionally, and spiritually.
And if she let herself get lost in this—how good and safe and warm he felt in her bed, the gentle care of his touch she knew could set her on fire with the slightest encouragement, the kind words and worshipful gaze—she was only going to get her heart broken.
She’d never wanted forever, but now she was afraid she couldn’t handle the promise of anything less.
“You are not a pervert. You are an incredible singer, a devoted Jew, and you happen to also give really excellent head. Isn’t it literally halakha that you have to fuck your wife as much as she wants?
Seems to me like you’re actually just preparing to be really, really good at that particular mitzvah.
I have no doubt the future Mrs. Klein will appreciate all of you very much. ”
I know I would.
“You think so, huh?” he rasped, his fingers warm on the inches of skin between her sweatpants and where her tank top had ridden up.
“I know so.”
His lips brushed hers softly as a butterfly, a gentle touch that felt more like goodbye than hello.
She wasn’t sure if he meant for it to, or if he was being hesitant.
Respectful. Inviting her to reciprocate, to take it further, to lose herself in him so completely that she might never find her way back to herself.
She felt frozen with indecision, her heart and body and mind and tongue all heading in different directions, and—
Buzz.
The sound of Judah’s phone vibrating in the quiet was enough to send her flying back onto the bed, painful memories flooding her brain.
She heard him fumble with his phone as she rolled over, pulling herself into the same fetal position she’d spent most of that night.
It took only a moment for the room to go silent again, but it was enough.
“Ari—”
“You should go,” she said softly.
“It was just Lev. I’m going to LA on Tuesday for a few meetings and a concert, and—”
“Please, Judah. Thank you for the cake, and I accept your apology, but I—I can’t do this. It doesn’t matter what I might feel, because this”—she gestured between them—“is still not a thing that works outside the bedroom, and we both deserve better than that.”
Silence hung heavy in the air at that, and Ari silently begged for him to fill it. Fight me. Convince me I’m wrong. Tell me the two of us can make anything work.
Instead, he said, “Okay.” His voice was so soft in the still room. “If you really want me to go, I’ll go. I mean, I kind of have to—I’m flying to LA in the morning, and it’s not something I can put off. But I’ll be back next week, and I’d really love to see you.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but when tears filled her eyes, she shut it again. The last thing in the world she needed was for Judah Klein to hear her cry.
“Or I guess I’ll see you at the wedding.”
When she still didn’t respond, other than to clutch the blanket tighter to herself, he sighed, dropped a kiss on top of her head, and walked out of the apartment and back into his real life.
Ari waited until she heard the door close behind Judah to finally exhale.
Her brain was screaming at her to go after him, to leap into his arms and demand that he stay for good.
But it was so much, and she still had so many questions that neither of them could answer, and all of it rendered her so catatonic that the only thing she could do was hug her knees to her chest.
And then her door burst open, and Liana came storming in, Gideon trailing behind her. “Did Judah just leave? You let him leave?”
“Lee, give her—”