6. Craig
CRAIG
Thank Christ I decided to fuck before the talk.
She was on fire today. Grabbed me before she’d even crossed the threshold of my front door and had both our clothes off before we made it to the sofa. Bit my ass and rode me like a goddess. Kissed me like she couldn’t get enough.
On.
Fire.
If she isn’t ready to talk about moving to New York with me now, then she never will be. And I think she’s ready. I know I am. I don’t know why I wasn’t before. I mean, I do know why, but I was an idiot.
After cleaning myself off, I wash my hands, brush my teeth, splash cold water onto my face, pat dry, put the face cloth in the hamper, replace it with a clean one, comb my fingers through my hair, give my reflection the finger guns, and open the bathroom door.
Bridget’s already dressed again. Her hair still has that glorious freshly-fucked quality, although if she’s going to be my girlfriend, I should probably start calling it recently-made-love-to hair. Also: I’m gonna start calling her baby even when we aren’t having sex.
I start asking, “You want me to order from—”
“I just need to say something— Oh. You first.”
“No, you first.”
She looks a little distraught. She was tearing up while we were fucking, but she does that every now and then. Something’s off now. She’s fully dressed and has nervous energy. That is not her usual energy.
It makes me get really still. Feet apart, arms at my side. Ready for anything.
“Yeah, it’s…” Bridget runs her fingers through her hair. She can’t look me in the eye. “Umm…” She looks out the window and flicks her hands like there’s water on them. “It’s just that my friend Penny had a baby last October.”
“She did? You didn’t tell me.”
She wrinkles her forehead, like she’s about to say Why would I?
But then she thinks better of it. “Yeah. I was there. When she was in labor and when the baby was delivered. With Stewart. I was there, four years ago when she met Stewart; I was there when they got married. And they’re happy and I’m so happy for them and the baby is so cute.
And my parents are still so in love with each other.
And I want that. I want that for myself.
I was afraid to admit it to myself and to say it out loud, but it’s true, so I have to. ”
This could be good.
She’s going to say it first.
“I have to say it out loud,” she says, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly.
“I want to be in a serious relationship. I’m ready for it.
And I haven’t dated anyone besides you since I met you—I mean.
I haven’t dated anyone since I met you, even though we’re not dating.
And I know what your life is like, and I get it.
I totally understand, and I’m so, so grateful for the time we’ve spent together and all of the amazing sex we’ve had… ”
“I am too,” I say.
She exhales and waves her hand, like she doesn’t want me to interrupt her.
“And I know this has just been a fun thing for both of us, but I need to be available for someone else now. I mean, I don’t know who that someone is.
But I need to make space for someone. Someone who shows up for me all year long and wants what I want…
” She clasps her hands together and finally looks me in the eyes.
“So I can’t do…this…” She gestures between us. “Anymore. With you. Okay?”
What?
“Oh.”
“That’s cool, right? I really care about you, and I hope we can still be friends. But without the benefits. Friends with no benefits… Are we cool?”
No. No. No. Fuck this. Fuck being friends. Fuck no benefits. Fuck.
“So cool.”
“Great.” She nods once. “So we’re friends now.”
“Yup. With zero benefits.”
“Cool.” She searches my face, her hands still clasped in front of herself. Is she waiting for me to say something?
What else is there to say?
Bridget wants a serious relationship and doesn’t even consider me an option.
Thank Christ I didn’t talk first.
Thank fuck I didn’t let her in.
Not really.
I guess I knew. On some level I knew she’d never want to take this to the next level. We had our fun. I had a good streak. Now I’m free to find the woman who’ll win us a Cup. Get me a Vezina win.
She’s still studying me. Still measuring. Probably hoping I’ll beg her to reconsider, but nope. She doesn’t want all of me, then she gets none of me. Except as a friend.
Her face falls. “Okay, well I should get going, then.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She picks up her shoulder bag. “Are you going somewhere?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“I’m going back to the shop.”
“Right. Wednesday.”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.” I open the front door for her and hold out my hand for her to shake.
She stares down at my hand. My big, callused hand that will never stroke her silky soft skin all over her beautiful body ever again. Which I am so chill about. She shakes my hand and then walks out. “Okay. See you around, Bowman.”
“Bye. Bridget.”
She stops in her tracks. I watch her shoulders slouch a little. Because I didn’t call her by her nickname. But that’s how it goes. She’ll get used to it. And so will I.
She straightens up and keeps walking away.
And I only stare at her ass for, like, five seconds before closing the door.
No big deal.
Super chill.