Chapter Five
It’s a warm evening and the fireflies are out. They’re magical, moving among tree limbs and the longer grass growing by the river. Getting to be outside on nights like this are a gift. Back home, it’d be too hot to leave the air conditioning for another hour or two at best.
Grandma has gone to Thursday night bingo.
I take the opportunity to tend to the contents of her display cabinet.
Carefully handwashing the crystal glasses and bowls she inherited from her mother.
Polishing the silver tea set that originally belonged to her grandmother.
She mentioned meaning to get around to doing the job.
And it’s nice to think of the family history and the women who came before me.
Food arrives just as I finish up.
“You’re running out of light,” I say, carrying two bottles of beer and the pizza box.
“Yeah,” answers Nash, down on his knees. “That and the will to live.”
There’s a slight decline from the house’s back deck down to the water. An assortment of flowers are freshly planted along the edge of the deck. I recognize asters and yarrow, sage and poppies. “She changed her mind about a water feature?”
“For now. There’s a shiny new birdbath at the side of the house, and she had me plant these, along with some semi-mature trees and a bunch of bushes.
And then there was the weeding.” He takes one of the beers, and downs about half of it.
The way his throat works is fascinating.
Then he checks the time on his chunky silver colored watch.
“Are you willing to share that pizza by any chance?”
“I am.”
“Great. Let me go wash up.” He heads inside while I take a seat on the few steps leading from the wooden deck down to the grass. I just so happen to be removing a cheese string from my chin when he reappears and sits beside me with two fresh beers. “You’re my dream girl, you know that, right?”
“Because I got food on my face?”
“How could I resist?” He smiles. “Thank you for feeding and watering me. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. Should I put some music on?”
He ponders the question for a moment. “I was kind of enjoying the quiet.”
“Okay.”
We eat in silence for a while. Frogs and fireflies and other assorted bugs and birds provide ample ambience. Orange and pink paint the sky above the trees.
“This is one of those moments we were talking about,” I say. “The simple pleasure of good food on a warm night by the river.”
“You’re absolutely right. It’s a funny feeling, isn’t it? Being exactly where you want to be.” He takes another bite and chews. “Don’t get me wrong, the pizza you get in Italy is on a whole other level. The dough and cheese they make and the tomatoes they grow…amazing.”
“I’ve never been.”
“We should go sometime. Just for fun.”
I laugh. “Sure.”
“Sitting here, eating this and hanging out with you while nature does its thing, is sort of perfect.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I smell bad,” he says conversationally.
“You’ve been very brave today, helping to get her garden in order.”
“Like anything Audrey owned would ever dare to be out of order. I think you’re brave sitting within a country mile of me.
” His laughter is low and lovely and hits me right between the thighs.
Dammit. Maybe there’s no harm in a rebound crush, and that’s clearly all this is.
Nope. There’s no harm at all, so long as I don’t do anything about it.
Which will be easy, given he’s pure flirt with no follow-through.
“Wanna go in the water?” he asks, when we finish eating.
“That’s my plan.”
He unlaces his hiking boots and pulls them off, along with his socks.
And next goes his tee over his head. Staring at his chest would be bad.
His nipples hypnotized me or something in the clothes shop.
It wasn’t my fault. Though thank goodness any overheating leading to a red face will be harder to see in this light.
There’s no time to ogle, given he continues on, unbuttoning and unzipping his cargo shorts and setting them aside.
I don’t check out anything below his waist because that would be wrong for reasons I can’t remember.
Friends. We’re just friends. Without benefits. Which is sad but such is life. Also, his friendship is a beautiful thing.
Focusing on my own clothing seems smart.
So I do away with my tank and denim shorts.
It’s a simple string bikini in yellow and white gingham.
My hair is up in a ponytail. Any excess on my stomach or cellulite on my thighs and ass is as it should be.
It’s the patriarchy who wants women frail and underfed and tired—and fuck them.
I look up to find his warm gaze skimming over me.
From my breasts to my belly and down to my thighs.
Seems we’re both overly aware of each other’s bodies.
Of the bare skin currently on display. It makes me feel better with regard to the effort it’s taking not to stare at the visible dick imprint in his boxer briefs.
I’m not a deviant hooked on a country-rockstar.
Though it sure does feel like it. This level of yearning is unprecedented in me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Good.”
“Be careful on the rocks. They might be slippery.”
With the two fresh beers, into the water we go. Sitting comfortably is easy for the first ten feet or so. The water is at boob level when seated here, but then it gets deeper. So we stay in the shallows for now.
“Fuck yes,” he murmurs in his smooth, deep voice. “I needed this.”
My nipples are hard from the cool water and nothing else. I am not turned on by any overtly sexual guttural moaning on his part.
With his beer held high, he lies back and disappears beneath the surface. And when he reappears, his hair is wet and slicked back and beads of water linger on his skin. He really is disturbingly attractive with the hard jawline, sharp cheekbones, and high forehead. My eyes are dazzled.
“Better?” I ask.
“So much.”
Being attracted to anyone is so inconvenient right now. I want to nurse my disappointment and ponder where I went wrong. How I made allowances for the times my ex treated me as an afterthought. Though the truly dickish behavior didn’t come to light for a long time. He knew to hide it well.
“Talk to me about something,” I say. “I need a distraction.”
“What’s your take on aliens?”
I blink. “My take on aliens? If they’re out there, they’ve got to be avoiding us, right?”
“No one would blame them.”
“This planet is a mess.”
“They should probably stay out of this whole galaxy just to be safe. Humans, man. What can you do?” he asks. “What’s your first memory?”
“Getting bitten on the toe by an ant at the park.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“I am not.”
“Shit. How traumatic.”
“It’s been a few years. I don’t hold a grudge against insects.”
He grins. “In their defense, I’m sure you’re very tasty.”
There will come a day when I don’t smile at his stupid flirting. Just not today. “What’s your first memory?”
“Dancing to the radio with my mom in the living room.”
“That’s lovely.”
“Yeah. What are you thinking about that required distraction?” asks Nash.
“The breakup, unfortunately.”
“Oof.”
“I need to let it go, but sometimes my mind just…you know.”
“It hasn’t been long. We’re all figuring shit out, June. You have to give yourself grace, like Molly said.”
I frown. “Yeah. Being unreasonably hard on yourself is just so much fun, you know?”
“Oh. It’s a laugh a minute,” he jokes. “Not so many long-term couples in music. Touring is hard on relationships. Touring is hard full stop. As good as it can be to get out on the road and to feel the rush from a live crowd. The grind of the constant routine gets you. Being away from home for up to a year or two at a time.”
“But tomorrow you’re free as a bird and can do whatever you want to do,” I say with a smile.
“This is true.” He reaches out and tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear. “It was just…there we go.”
“Thanks.”
His gaze moves from me to the water and back again. Like he’s not sure where to look. “So…”
“This is nice.”
“Very nice.”
And I don’t know what to say. But I can’t be imagining this chemistry between us.
It feels too tangible to be only in my imagination.
Perhaps I should investigate a messy rebound elsewhere.
Sex with someone who doesn’t have such a complicated life and hopefully has never hired my grandmother as their housekeeper. It’s worth a thought or two.
“Haven’t seen any lights on there.” He nods to the place next door. A big old wooden three-story house painted navy blue, with windows in the attic and a deck with a fancy hot tub. “You know anything about it?”
“Apparently, it’s a pricey rental vacation home. Grandma said it was packed the last two summers, but business has been slow this year.”
He grunts and drinks more beer. Then he asks, “What’s in your car?”
I cock my head.
“You said it was full. So, what did you consider important enough to bring out here?”
“Well…there are the obvious things, like clothes and skincare and my favorite books. Lots of books actually,” I say.
“The only things I took from the apartment were a dinner set I got from a potter back in Phoenix, these cool chunky vintage wine and water glasses that have a suspended bubble in the base, and some pieces of art. I swapped website builds for paintings a few times.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah.” I take a sip of beer.
“What’s your dominant feeling about your ex right now?”
“Are you turning psychic counselor?”
“Yes. And I’m sensing a whole lot of anger coming from you.”
“Eh,” I say. “He kicked me out with the rent paid, the fridge full, and the utilities up to date. I trusted him and actively made his life better. Got him organized and turned his bachelor pad into a home. And in the end, he treated me like shit.”
“What an asshole.”
I frown. “I don’t disagree with you. It has occurred to me though that maybe I shouldn’t have taken on such a mothering role.”
“You think you did too much?” he asks.