Chapter 13
13
I stumble out into the hallway, feeling like the worst possible version of myself. Now, I let my tears fall. I wish I hadn’t left, and like some kind of idiot, I press the down button for the elevator instead of just taking the stairs. Because I am some kind of idiot.
And I hope Jae will come after me.
He does.
Jae opens his door and peers into the hallway, watching me let my tears out like some kind of depraved orphan child getting a slice of bread for the first time in her life.
“Come back here, Riley,” he says from the doorway.
The elevator arrives and the doors open and close, but I don’t move.
“Please come back over here,” Jae asks. “I won’t make you, but I won’t ask again.”
I turn around as if on cue, and march over to him, tears bubbling in my eyes like a fountain at the mall. Like I could stay away even if I wanted to.
“What’s the matter?” Jae whispers quietly. He reaches for my face, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe my tears.
“What do you think?” I retort. I’m colder than ice.
“Was it really that bad?”
I bark out a laugh through boogers and hot tears. “No.”
“This is a first for me, you know.” Jae sounds like he’s lecturing a classroom of rowdy kindergarteners. “I’ve never made a girl cry after just kissing her.”
“I’ve never cried after kissing someone, either. So we’re in the same boat.” I wipe my nose on my ridiculously giant robe sleeve, wishing I had a tissue or a paper towel or a wad of toilet paper. Actually, I have cried after kissing a man. Grant.
“What’s on your mind, Riley?” Jae ushers me back into the apartment, and I’m not sure if I can take being back in this place after kissing a man who wasn’t Grant in it. I am a belligerent wild pony, walking all over the place, and Jae puts an arm around me, corralling me to the couch.
“I don’t think I can be in this apartment and not fucking lose it,” I say flatly. I look Jae in the eyes. “I was engaged to another man in here.” I laugh at my absurdity, the tears beginning again after a brief moment.
Jae doesn’t say anything, he looks at me like my therapist does, as if to say, welcome to my office, please take a seat on my couch. “And?”
I don’t know how to explain to him I cannot be in here with him.
“I have too much history here.”
“Do you?”
Do I? I lived here far longer without Grant than I ever did with him.
“I grieved here.”
“Does that make it unlivable?” Jae asks me. I don’t know how he manages to ask the right things.
“Is it bad if it does?” I look at him solemnly. “I don’t think I can ever look at this place again without thinking of Grant and all of the time I spent crying and being miserable and having panic attacks . We lived together here for a year, and we were supposed to get married that fall.”
Jae wraps me in a hug while I tell him about my fiancé.
“He had a seizure in September. He had no history of seizures. They did scans and tests. It was brain cancer.” I take a black-hole sized pause. “Totally incurable. There was nothing to be done except wait it out.”
Quiet, gentle tears roll down my cheeks. I have told this story a thousand times, and surely, I will tell it a thousand more. What is one more time?
“They buried him in December in his hometown.” He rubs my shoulders and I put a hand up to my temple, holding my head low.
“Thank you for telling me that, Riley.” Jae lifts my legs over his own, and cradles me in his lap like the massive baby I am. “You don’t have to carry it all, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t underestimate yourself,” Jae tells the top of my head. He really is a massive, giant of a man. I feel like a teeny, tiny cookie crumb in his warm arms. “You act like no one will ever be interested in you because of your past.”
“That’s usually the case.”
“Riley. Is that really the case? You just went on two dates!” Jae laughs into my hair. I think for a moment. Is that really the case? “Maybe that was the case a year or two ago. But that’s certainly not the case now.” Jae rests his chin on top of my head.
“And there’s me,” He laughs. “I am so interested in you.”
“What?” Jae presses a kiss to the top of my head. He shifts to stand up, and I stand up with him. “Okay, enough of this.” He turns me to face him and takes my tiny mouse hands in his. I feel like a pouting child in his arms. “Have a little confidence in yourself. You haven’t scared me off yet.”
I look up at him, my eyes red and puffy.
“Let me make this clear to you, Riley.” Jae stares directly to my soul, my heart, whatever internal organ he can lay his eyes on. “I’m interested in you. Your past is included in that. I don’t care that you have a dead fiancé. I don’t care if you cry. I like you for you. Tears and all.”
I feebly smile back at him.
“I bet you’ll live to regret saying that.”
He grins back at me, fiercer than ever.
“I’ll count on it.”
Jae takes my hand, and walks me out of his apartment, down the stairs and into my own. Lily skitters around our ankles. He presses an unassuming kiss to my forehead.
“Go out with me.”
How can he have so few reservations after I bawled my eyes out on his sofa?
“Tomorrow night. Come to The Red Kettle.”
I hesitate.
“Just come. Promise me you’ll come.”
“I’ll be there.”
That afternoon, I’m in my head and I know it. What have I done? I replay the morning in my head. Our kiss. And how much I wanted it. The especially fucked up thing about grief is that it mangles your perception of yourself so badly, you forget you’re a human too.
I feel like a fake and a fraud. How dare I want to love again?
I convinced myself I’m not funny and charming. I’m cringey and embarrassing.
I’m definitely not sweet and endearing. I’m clingy and overbearing.
My old self is on some far off pedestal, far beyond any reasonable reach, but still, I desperately reach and grab and clutch onto whatever pieces I can get. The statue of my old self is chipped away by every sunrise and sunset, and there is nothing I can do but watch it get whipped to pieces in the wind.
I’m a self-fulfilled prophecy. I am everything I don’t want to be.
But how could I not be? My life was turned upside down in a single phone call.
I make sure everyone knows, all the time, as evident when Jae found me crying in the hall. But it didn’t turn him away. In fact, it just made him chase me more.
Maybe he’s the one fucked in the head.
The thing I miss the most about Jae’s apartment was the balcony. This apartment doesn’t have one. If I want fresh air, the best I can do is stick my head out the window by the fire escape. Sitting on the fire escape feels a little risky—and technically illegal.
Is it too soon to call Jae? It was less than two hours since I saw him, but all I want to do was talk to him about this. Even so, it’s probably best to let it lie. Meaning…if I saw him again, I would certainly try to kiss him. Even I’m smart enough to see that.
Hours pass and I don’t know how I manage. I ask myself a thousand questions, not knowing the answer to a single one and too afraid to find out. A million thoughts plow their way through the wrinkles in my brain.
What will I tell my parents? What will I tell Grant’s parents? The support group?
Does this mean I have to take down the photos of Grant?
Do I have to get rid of Grant’s things?
I laugh at the ridiculous thought of having to get rid of Lily simply because she also belonged to Grant. But it is a fine line to walk, and I don’t know the answers. If I date someone new, what do I do with all the evidence I was in another relationship I didn’t willingly exit? Who decides?
Me, I think.
I will not scrub the evidence that Grant and I were together from the universe. I’ve worked so hard to keep it here. Why would I want to get rid of it?
I think back to what Melissa said to me. You move forward, not on.
When you move forward, it doesn’t mean you erase all the things that you leave behind. My grief, my sorrow and all my pain make up who I am today. The me who was grieving in the past is still somewhere within the me who is desperately trying so hard to be happy today.
She and I are not so different after all.
I don’t know why it took me so long to understand that, when it seemingly took Jae only a few minutes. Maybe it’s different when it’s your reality. I think it plainly. I am afraid that loving someone new means I won’t love Grant anymore. I love Grant through giving someone new my love.
Which begs the question: Is Jae the one I want to give my love to?
And when I am in bed later that night, itching to call him, I have my answer when my phone rings and his name pops up on the screen. My heart skips forty beats and the butterflies in my stomach climb to my throat.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” Jae murmurs, his voice quiet and hoarse on the other end of the line.
“Why are you calling me?” I ask, trying not to sound too desperate for an answer. I’d been waiting all afternoon for this very moment.
“I call you every night at this time.”
“I guess you do,” He’s not wrong. I don’t even know why I asked that.
“I was just thinking about you.”
“What about me?” He was thinking about me. The butterflies multiply by six hundred.
“How beautiful you looked today.”
I blush even though he can’t see me.
“That top was ridiculously attractive. I don’t understand how you looked so good in it. I can’t wrap my head around you, Riley.” Jae’s normally perky and bouncy voice is dreamy and ambrosial.
I don’t even know what to say. It’s been so long since I’ve flirted without looking like a total dork. I stay silent on the line, but place the phone near my face so my breathing is near the mic so he can tell I’m still listening.
“It doesn’t hurt hearing that,” I tease him. “Thanks for the ego boost.”
“Please. Your ego needs it, frankly.” Jae laughs lightly on the other end of the line, and I hear him shuffling.
“Where are you?”
“I just got into bed.”
“I’m already in bed,” I answer, talking faster than I mean to for fear of spilling the coalition of dirty thoughts barging into my mind like I’m fifteen and discovering that guys are like, kind of hot, actually.
“What are you wearing now?” Jae’s voice is softer than velvet and sultrier than a little black dress.
“I feel like a phone sex operator answering that,” I giggle.
“Is that so bad? I bet it pays well.”
“What are you wearing?” I flip the question on Jae. “Wait, I take that back. I don’t want to know.”
I don’t want to know so badly, because once I know, I won’t be able to stop thinking about it. I picture Jae in his fictional California king bed, sprawled in a jungle of cotton linens, and I am immediately flustered because that is surely the situation right now.
“Why not?” It’s Jae’s turn to chuckle and it sounds ridiculously cute coming from a grown man’s body.
“It’s none of my business,” I answer matter-of-factly. I desperately want it to be my business. “But you don’t strike me as a flannel pajama pants kind of guy.”
“You’d be right about that.” Jae gives me a taste of his golden laugh again.
What kind of guy is he then? I wonder if he’s a briefs or boxers guy.
“Only for matching family photos on Christmas morning.”
“You do strike me as that kind of person.” I’m grinning ear to ear. “Especially when it’s for next year’s holiday card.”
“Oh, you know it. I have three sisters and a niece. It’s matching pajamas or death.”
“You would know.”
“Do you have any siblings?” Jae’s voice lowers as he asks me.
“I don’t. It’s just me.” I let out a somber sigh. “My parents moved to North Carolina when they retired.”
“You didn’t want to go with them?” Jae asks.
“I couldn’t leave the city. Because of Grant, partly. And partly because I love this place too much.”
“What’s your favorite part of the city?” Jae asks me, a relentless list of questions coming out of his mouth.
“Is it bad if it’s a cliché answer?” I’m decisive.
“Yes, it’s bad! You fake New Yorker, you.”
“My favorite place is Central Park.”
Jae shames me with a vapid tsk saying I should know better.
“I can’t help it. When I was ten years old, before I moved here, it was the first place we visited. And the moment I entered the park, I knew it was my dream to move here and be a painter.”
“All right, all right. I’ll accept that answer but only because of the childhood backstory.”
I laugh. “You’d have to accept it no matter what, because that’s the answer.”
We talk late into the night as usual, like there was no fiery kiss between us, and by the time midnight rolls around, I am falling asleep.
“Jae,” I say, my voice a secret. “Do you want to know something?” I am dazed by sleep.
“Sure, Riley, I always want to know.”
“I can’t stop thinking about our kiss. I wish I could kiss you again in my bed. But if you came here, I don’t think I could contain myself.”
“I would be beside myself to be there, Riley, but I don’t think I could contain myself either.” Jae’s words echo through my chest cavity to crush and squeeze my heart, artery by artery, capillary by capillary.
“How did you know you liked me?” I ask.
“When I told you not to do something, and then you did it anyway.”
The kitchen.
“You were practically begging me to go in there.”
“I was not,” Jae’s laugh is stubborn and a stump in the ground. “You really should wear non-slip shoes.” Jae’s voice switches to serious.
“Will you let me in the kitchen tomorrow?” I ask him.
“Only if you wear non-slip shoes.”
“What if I don’t?” I tease.
“Then you can’t come in.”
“Or you’ll have to carry me.” I suggest
The thought of his arms around me again was dazzling. I would melt into them like a popsicle in the sun. He would have no choice in the matter. I almost think better of it, but instead I speak again.
“I wish I could touch you again.”
“I can’t wait to get my hands on you.” His voice is low and husky. Even though we are only a few floors away, and it would be all too easy to show up at his door, he doesn’t suggest it. “I wish I could touch you now.”
“Where would you touch me?” I ask in a whisper.
“Please tell me what you’re wearing?” He asks once more.
“A t-shirt with shorts. And a fuzzy pink bathrobe.” I tell Jae quietly, like someone might hear me.
“Ah, my favorite bathrobe,” I can hear the smile in Jae’s voice.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s tied at my waist.”
“If I were there,” Jae exhales softly. “I’d place my hand at the small of your back, and untie your robe.”
“What else would you do?” I ask, inhaling sharply at the thought of Jae undressing me. Heat rises in my lower belly.
“Are you imagining me there? I’d lean in very close, and press a kiss to your neck.” Jae whispers back.
“Yes,” I say breathily. “Would you let me touch you?”
“Oh, Riley, I’d love it if you would touch me,” Jae groans. My heart pounds at the thought of touching Jae like he is now. Wrapped in sheets, with only a thin layer of fabric covering him.
“Would you kiss my lips?” I ask.
“I’d kiss you gently at first,” Jae whispers to me. I’ve let the phone fall onto the sheets as I lay back with my head on my pillow. I reminisce about his tongue on mine. Fuck. “And then harder.”
“I’m imagining us standing in my bedroom,” I try to paint a picture for him. “My bathrobe is undone, and your hands are in my hair, and my hands are on your chest?—”
“Shit, Riley, you’re really turning me on,” Jae whispers, stunning me into silence. “I’d take off your bathrobe, and lay you down on your bed.” My stomach flips with something I haven’t felt in a long time.
“I’d pull you on top of me,” I tell him in a long breath, imagining the weight of him on top of me.
“I’d put my knee between your legs,” Jae sighs. “Fuck, Riley,”
“I would kiss you harder—” I keep going, desperate to keep feeling the new, throbbing energy between my legs.
“Fuck, Riley, please, how are you laying right now?” Jae asks me, snapping me out of the scenario and into real life.
“I’m—I’m under the covers,” I tell him. “I have my phone by my head. You’re on speaker. And my hands?—”
“Riley,” He groans. I don’t care about anything else right now, and I instinctively bring my hands to my chest. “Could you put your hands where you would want me to touch you?”
Am I really going to do this? I didn’t masturbate often, let alone on the phone with another person on the other line, but yes, I am going to.
“Yes,” I sigh heavily. “I’m doing it now.” I slide my right hand down my shorts, hovering over the most sensitive parts of me. And fuck, sensitive, I am. I gasp when I slide my finger over my wet seam, brushing my clitoris with my forefinger.
There’s rustling of sheets over the speaker. I guess the gasp was louder than I thought. “Fuck, Riley, please tell me you’re touching yourself for me,” Jae groans. His
heavy breathing turns into something more. “I’m touching myself for you.”
“Jae,” I rasp, as I begin to really tease my clit with slow circles. “How are you touching yourself?”
“I’m—” His groans turn into moans. “I’m squeezing my cock so hard for you, Riley,”
“Oh, fuck, Jae,” I squeeze my eyes shut at the thought of him fisting himself for me. It sends me into a tailspin, and I can’t help myself any longer. I rub my clitoris with more pressure.
“Riley, tell me how you’re touching yourself. Please, I need to know.” Jae moans into the phone.
“I’m using—” I take a sharp inhale. “I’m using my right hand to rub my clitoris.”
“Shit,” Jae murmurs, and I roll my eyes back into my head. Keeping a steady rhythm how I like, I hear Jae groan again, and I whimper. His groans awaken something in me that I don’t wish to keep buried any longer. This phone sex is the hottest sex I’ve ever had.
“Jae,” I cry out. “I—I haven’t touched myself for a while. I’m not going to last much longer.” I confess.
“Baby, come when you’re ready. Don’t hold back on my account.” Jae whispers.
I’m heaving, and seeing stars or something. A moan escapes my lips, and I’m picturing it’s Jae’s hand instead of mine. I flash back to our kisses. Primordial need takes over me and with one more swipe, I’m coming.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, coming out of my sex-induced stupor.
“Baby, I’m coming for you,” Jae grunt, and my heart flutters. I can only imagine what he looks like right now. Bare backed on the mattress, cock in his fist, coming on his chest. We stay on the phone, panting in unison.
It’s a few moments of silence before Jae lets a laugh slip.
“What?” I whisper. “Is something wrong?”
“I haven’t come that hard in a while.” Jae laughs. “Riley, shit, I wish I could kiss you right now.”
That gets me to laugh. I use my left hand to rub my face. “I’m smiling.” I relay to him.
“You’re good?” He asks.
“I’m good,” I confirm.
“I’ve got to hang up, I need to clean up,” Jae says.
“I understand,” I say. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Riley.”