15. CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
My lips pucker together. This could very easily become a late night U up?
text exchange, but I consciously summon up all of my will power.
If Brady has dated Miranda, who strikes me as a wild child, maybe that’s what he’s used to.
But I’m not that girl. I mean, sure, my body would like me to be that girl, but…
he lives right next door, at least for now.
The part of my brain that has any common sense at all knows that I’d like to be in a committed relationship with Brady before I hop in the sack with him.
Or, at the very least, I should at least go on a date with him first.
Me too. But it’s okay. My day sort of unraveled after that anyway, so the timing was probably not the best, I type.
Everything okay? he responds.
Yeah. Arrow went on a sort of impromptu vacation and left me in charge. It was fine, just unexpected.
Gotcha. Well, hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.
I’m counting on it, I reply.
Three more dots appear, then stop, then start again. 10am good?
Perfect. Looking forward to it, I writ e back.
Quick question. Are you in bed already?
My heart skips a beat. I am. Why do you ask?
The stop and go of the dots on the screen begins again. I was going to offer you some ice cream. It always makes me feel better when I have a shitty day. I’ve got cookies and cream and rocky road. Happy to share, if you want in. But if you’re too tired, I totally understand. No pressure at all.
Who am I kidding? It’s adorable and sweet, and I’m grinning like a fool.
Ice cream sounds amazing, actually. I pause, overthinking, as usual.
But, just making sure, this isn’t code for something else?
Like, when you say cookies and cream you don’t actually mean condoms and lube?
I type, then think better of it. I’m about to delete that last part when Zoloft jumps on the bed hungry for snuggles, and the phone fumbles out of my hand onto the mattress.
As I pick it back up, I accidentally hit send. I mean, of course I do.
Classic Gretchen.
I can hear his laughter through the condo wall.
Nope. Actual ice cream. Be right there.
I climb out of bed, catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror – no makeup, huge sweatpants, a tank top without a bra – I feel like a walking advertisement for freshman year of college.
I consider putting on something else but there’s a knock.
Here goes nothing, I tell myself. I pull open the door and my pulse thumps in my ears when I see him standing there, a pint of ice cream in either hand, a grin that brightens as I invite him in.
Brady gives me a peck on the cheek. “You look beautiful,” he says.
My insides throb. I feel like a teenager with a crush.
My mind flashes back to Eddie Marken, my first boyfriend.
I’m transported to the boy-girl dance where we shared our first kiss.
It was sloppy and rushed, and he broke my young heart just weeks after when he ended our relationship because school was out for the summer and he was leaving for sleepaway camp.
I was “geographically inconvenient,” my mother explained when I cried about it later that night.
But in the fall, when we returned to school and I started dating Aidan Ralph, I still carried a torch for Eddie, and my heart would race every time I passed him in the hallway.
That racing – the uncontrollable pounding in my chest – it rushes over me like a tidal wave now, here in my apartment well after midnight as Brady stands before me double-fisting frozen treats in an attempt to brighten my day.
“Hi,” I say.
“So? Which one?” He holds up the rocky road, then the cookies and cream. “Pick your poison.”
“Scoop of each?” I ask.
“Ooh, a girl after my own heart. I’ll have the same.”
I grab two bowls from the cabinet, and two spoons from the drawer. I set them on the counter and fill each with a generous serving. I gesture at the table. “Wanna sit?” I ask, turning around. Brady looks up, as if he’s just woken up from a daze.
“Sure.” He pulls out a chair at my modest dining table. “So?” he asks, as I place the bowl in front of him and sit down across from him. “Best and worst part of the day?”
I smile, taking a spoonful of ice cream and savoring it before answering. “You first. ”
“That’s tough. I’d say the worst part was leaving you at your tow lot thing earlier than I’d hoped to.” I try to ignore how his voice makes my skin tingle. “And the best part is right now.”
“Really?” I ask. “This?”
“Yeah.” Brady shrugs. “I like having you next door.”
I nod. “I have to agree with that. No offense to Luis, of course.”
“Of course,” Brady echoes. “Now. Your turn.”
“’Kay. I’ll start with the worst part. It wasn’t exactly bad , just weird.”
“I’m ready. Take it from the top.” Brady licks some rocky road off his spoon, and I’m so focused on his tongue that I forget what I’m supposed to say for a sec. “Um. Earth to Gretchen?”
“Sorry. Right.” I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “After tow lot was over, I ran around and did some stuff, and when I got back to Cosmo, Arrow was gone. She went to Tucson and left me in charge.”
“Tucson?” His nose scrunches up in confusion.
“Yup.”
“As in, Arizona?”
“You guessed it.”
“Well, that’s far.”
“I know.”
“When’s she coming back?”
“Few days, I think. I’m not really sure.”
“Okay. So, that’s bad why, exactly? ”
“Not bad, necessarily. Just, there were only three of us to run a whole party. It was busy. And weird. I feel like she disappeared out of nowhere.”
“Been there,” he quips.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Miranda? Remember? In college?”
“Oh. Right.”
“Anyway, in my experience, when someone disappears out of nowhere, it usually isn’t for a fun, happy reason.”
“I know. Which is why it was weird. Also, I don’t like the responsibility of holding down a room full of potentially drunk grown people while they pretend to have skills on the pole.
Feels like an insurance nightmare waiting to happen.
If they were kids and just came for normal dance classes, I could be okay with that, but these women are an absolute liability. ”
Brady laughs. “Aw. I could see you chasing a bunch of little ones in tutus.”
“Not through a pole studio.”
“No, definitely not. What about the other ladies, though? Why wouldn’t Arrow put one of them in charge?”
“Cherry knows her the best, but she’s sick. Appendicitis.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, and we’ve been sort of playing phone tag. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll find out more tomorrow.”
“Everything will be fine,” Brady assures me. “And if you feel like you need backup, just call me. I’ll come help out.”
I sigh. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“No worries at all. Okay, so what was the best part of your day? ”
“Well…” My voice trails off.
“Right now?” Brady guesses, his mouth upturned, suppressing a smile.
I shake my head. “If I’m being totally honest, that dance from earlier was –” I wave my hand to fan my face. “Caliente,” I say.
He grins, and I feel my face flush. “Yeah. It was.”
“Can I ask you a weird question?”
“Sure.” He does that tongue thing with his spoon again and it takes all the restraint I’ve got to not lean across the table and invite him to do that inside my mouth.
“How did you learn to move like that?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s more than just dancing. It’s like a whole other level.”
He smirks. “Think so?”
“It’s like a combination of dance moves, of course – sharp lines and angles and all that, but it feels like there are also fluid moments, as if you’re melting into your dance partner.”
“You think I do that with everyone?”
“I mean, don’t you?” I remember the kaleidoscope of emotions I felt in my stomach when I watched him dance with Miranda.
“I think there’s a distinction, actually.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, when I’m dancing for an audience, it’s this combination of vulnerable and empowered.”
I raise an eyebrow, listening.
“One thing that’s interesting about this line of work is the way the women behave,” he continues.
“It’s like they’re ravenous. Ready for a good time.
They know it’s not really sex, so they don’t have to perform or worry about my needs or any of the other things that might cause someone to get in their head too much during an intimate experience.
They get to just enjoy the feeling of being wanted. Admired, you know?”
“But it’s all fake.”
“Of course it is. But my job is to make it feel like it’s not. So, if I look at you like this –” he lowers his eyes, looking up at me from under his hooded lids, and glides the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “you might feel some kind of way.”
I shift in my seat. “Yeah, okay. I see what you mean.”
“So, I’m in charge, then. It’s low-stakes for her.
She just gets to sit back and enjoy feeling desired.
And when she lets me take her by the hand, I can move her, lift her, sit her down in a chair, whatever.
I won’t touch her in a compromising way – I’ll get close enough to make her excited but not cross the line. It’s an intense amount of control.”
“So, where’s the vulnerability you mentioned?”
“Well, I have to convince her that I want to do filthy things to her. In front of an audience. While I take my clothes off. I’m human, though. Having all those eyes on you can make you feel sort of like a museum exhibit. Lots of room for people to judge you.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re not getting any complaints.”
“Still doesn’t stop me from feeling nervous.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, maybe a little less now. But that first night? I was terrified.”
“Really?"
“Yes. The whole time. But especially dancing with you. ”
“Me? Why?”
“Because there was chemistry. Heat. I felt something. Like underneath all the showy stuff, there was something real.”
“Mmm.”
“Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” I swallow, sucking the marshmallow swirl out of my teeth. “But you,” I say, pointing my spoon at Brady, “have nothing to be nervous about.”