Really? Just friends?
I take advantage of the fact that he’s looking at Charles and not at me to steal a quick glance, admiring all of him again. It’s not like I can shut his beauty out of my mind; he is gorgeous and there is no denying that. He’ll always be a pleasure to look at, but what has changed is that he doesn’t make me feel curiosity, temptation, or yearning anymore. Those feelings are gone.
Besides his wasteful beauty, I notice that there’s a very girly pink butterfly tattooed on his skin, right where his heart is. I want to laugh because really the tattoo defies everything that Arsen stands for.
I shake my head and decide to step in because I most certainly don’t want to spend my evening with him again. I can’t wait to get back to Ben.
I smile at the thought of Ben.
Charles must notice it because he asks, “What is it? Ah, you’ve seen The Tattoo? Yes. It’s quite comical, the story be—”
Oh, no. I don’t want them to assume that I was checking Arsen out, which I was but not really.
“No, that’s not it at all. Sorry. Your talk of dinner plans reminded me of something my husband said.” I don’t look at Arsen when I mention Ben. I stare down at my rings, which I made sure to put back on this time, when I say, “Would you mind very much taking a rain check, Arsen?” I lift my eyes to finally meet his and I’m taken aback by the look in his face.
He seems to be pissed.
Ignoring him, I address Charles, “Unless you would like to stay...” Charles seems to get the hint because he turns to Arsen. “Sorry, buddy. Seems that the beautiful lady already has dinner plans. How about—”
“No. Actually, never mind. I just remembered that there’s something I have to do in the city. Would you mind very much if we rode back with you?” Arsen asks me. The way he’s looking at me makes me think he’s daring me to say no to him.
Whatever, two can play this game.
“Sure. I don’t mind at all. But how about your friend?” Arsen crosses his arms on his chest, and an impish smile appears on his face.
“Oh, she won’t mind. We’re done here.” He looks to Charles, “I’ve shown Amanda every room in the house. She loves it.” Glancing in my direction, his teasing eyes land on my face again. “In fact, she begged me to come...back again.”
“I’m sure she did. It looked like she was enjoying herself as she tested the sturdiness of your father’s desk.”
Take that, asshat.
But instead of pissing Arsen off, he bursts out laughing. “It was sturdy alright. Perfect for—”
“There you are! I’ve been...oh, hi.”
Amanda is wearing Arsen’s missing shirt and nothing else. Not even blushing or trying to button the shirt closed, she makes her way to him. As she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, the shirt tugs up, showing her perfect, cellulite-free ass.
Seriously, that is not possible.
“I’ve been looking for you. You said you were going to get some water, so when you didn’t come back, I decided to come and find you.”
She pouts, her fingers lightly touching his chest. Arsen wraps one hand around her tiny waist and pulls her closer to him. Leaning down, he kisses her behind the ear while Charles and I watch. I don’t know if Charles is as uncomfortable by the situation as I am, but I try to avoid watching him kiss her. Instead, my eyes land on his free hand as it sneaks up her thigh and disappears under the white shirt.
I smile to the girl and don’t bother to look at Arsen as I greet her. “Hi. Nice meeting you, Amanda. My name is Cathy, and this is Charles. He’s decorating the house for Arsen’s mother. Anyway, it seems that we have detained him long enough. I’m sure he is ready to get back t—”
“Amanda, get yourself ready. We’re leaving with them in a few,” Arsen says, blatantly interrupting me.
The girl’s confusion is written all over her face. “But...I thought we were meeting Alec and Sali for dinner and drinks?”
He lets go of her waist and speaks dismissively to her, “Forget that. Change of plans. Don’t fuss, Amanda. I hate that shit. Now, go get ready.”
Amanda leaves the kitchen, hopping away on her perfect legs. Soon it’s just Charles, Arsen and myself again. Though, I have to admit that I forgot all about Charles for a moment there.
My companion seems to sense a weird kind of tension in the room. “My boy, that is no way to treat such a lovely lady. Are you sure you want to ride back with us? It seemed like you were having an awfully good time with her. I would hate to end your tour.” Charles voice is dripping with sarcasm.
“Yeah. I’m done here,” Arsen snaps back, then turns to look at me, a scowl on his face. “If I say that I want to ride with you, I mean it. I don’t appreciate it when people butt into my damn business.”
Oh. Seriously, I’m, what, five or six years older than this guy, yet he is talking to me like that? No way.
“Listen, kid...you can do whatever you want, but remember it’s my car.”
Arsen and I stare at each other for a moment. The energy this time around is so different from the restaurant, a silent challenge to see who will back down first.
It sure as shit won’t be me.
Arsen must know I won’t be intimidated because he backs off, the scowl gone off his face, replaced by his boyish grin. He turns to look at Charles. “She’s a feisty one, dear uncle, but I guess I deserved that.”
“Yes, my boy. I think you did. Now, go get ready. I’m not looking forward to sitting in traffic,” he replies, laughing.
“Yes, sir.” Turning to look at me before he leaves, Arsen says, “Sorry about that, Dimples. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I know he’s apologizing for his rudeness, but somehow I also know that he is apologizing for everything.
I smile. “Whatever.”
When we get to the city, I drop Charles first, then make my way to Prince Street where Arsen’s loft is. After Charles got out, Arsen made his way to the front, sitting next to me as I drive through the crowded streets of Manhattan. Arsen and I don’t speak to each other. He just stares straight ahead as I drive.
I’m relieved that I don’t have to carry any sort of conversation with him.
And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think Arsen is avoiding making eye contact with me, which is crazy talk. This is the same man who basically invited me to cheat on my husband with him.
Amanda hasn’t stopped talking, though. Looking at the rearview mirror, I see her twirling her black hair around her index finger, the bright yellow color of her nail polish peeking through the strands of hair. She’s talking about an audition she had for a Broadway show. Apparently Miss Spread Eagle is some sort of singer and dancer.
So not my thing.
For one, I cannot act, and if you have ever heard me sing, you would know that I belong in the back alley with a bunch of stray cats screeching at the top of my lungs.
As Amanda keeps going on and on, I can’t help but wonder if she knows what silence means. You know? Just you and your thoughts. She should give it a try sometime. She may like it.
When I park in front of his building, Arsen turns to look at Amanda in the back seat, telling her to go ahead without him, and that he’ll meet her in a few. After a quick, nice meeting you, I hope to see you again...not, a chirpy Amanda, with her very long legs and perfect cellulite-free ass, gets out of the car, making her way to the entrance.
As she walks into the building, I notice the way male heads turn in her direction, following the every move of her Sports Illustrated body. I can only imagine the amount of saliva being wiped off chins after all the drooling that just happened.
And this is the kind of girl Arsen is used to dating.
A disinterested Arsen watches her retreating figure until she disappears inside the revolving glass doors of his building. Once she’s out of sight, he turns his aqua eyes over my way, connecting with mine for the first time since we left Westchester. An indescribable awareness passes between us by that one glance, thickening the air in th
e car with an almost tangible tension.
The stampeding images of his naked body having sex run through my mind like a herd of animals with no clear direction or purpose, just trying to cause havoc within me. Clearing my throat to try and break the tension filling the car and hide how uncomfortable being alone with him suddenly makes me, I turn to look out the window.
“Hey, listen.” He rubs his hands on his face. “Sorry about the restaurant.”
Surprised at his apology, I stare at my hands and begin to twist my fingers. “Oh, okay. There is no need to apologize.”
“Are you kidding me? I was a fucking asshole to you.” He takes a deep breath. “I was drunk and wasn’t thinking. All I knew was that I wanted you. A lot. And you weren’t interested. And that, Catherine, never happens. So, you pissed me off by ignoring me because I’m not used to that shit. You piqued my interest and then when you didn’t return it, I wanted it more, but I was mean to you. And I’m not mean. Not unless that’s the way you like it, baby,” he says, smiling at me.
“No. I don’t like it at all. And please don’t call me baby. I mean, do you even know what boundaries are?” I say, shaking my head.
“I’m only teasing you. And, no. I hate any kind of shit that tells what I can and can’t do. But, honestly. I’m sorry. It won’t ever happen again. I know when no means no.” Staring at me, he extends his hand out. “Friends?”
“Why?” I ask, crossing my arms. I’m not buying his act just yet.
Arsen smiles ruefully. “You’re not going to let me live the restaurant incident down, are you?”
I purse my lips, trying not to smile because he’s right.
Chuckling, he lowers his hand and stares out the windshield. “I like you. I like that you don’t put up with my shit. Not many women are able to do that. And you’ll be seeing a lot of me at the office. Apparently, my father wants to teach me work ethics. If I don’t get my shit together, he has threatened to take my trust fund away. So I’m gonna be suckin’ it up to the old man for a while. We’ll be sort of co-workers, and for once I’d like to know someone who doesn’t let me walk all over her, and who won’t suck my dick if I tell her to...”
He grins when he sees the disbelief on my face. The ego!
“I am sure other interns and workers wouldn’t mind getting to know you.”
“Nah. They always want to fuck because they’re attracted to me, or because they want the bragging rights. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love it, but for once I’d like to be just Arsen. I don’t feel like being harassed for my cock or my money or last name while I’m trying to get in father’s good graces. Kinda would backfire if daddy dear walked in on me fucking his executive assistant. However, I know you can’t stand me and hate my guts. Plus, you’re married. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’ll be a good boy.”
“How do I know you won’t try to pull another one of your theatrics?”
“I told you…I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. This…” he touches himself, “only goes where he’s welcomed, and it’s obvious that we aren’t welcomed by you. I have moved on. Trust me.”
“Okay.” I want to smack him, really, but he is kind of funny when he’s not hitting on me. I can’t fault him for being honest. I like straight-shooters.
I extend my hand, saying, “Okay. Peace offering accepted.”
Arsen accepts my handshake as we smile at each other. I feel a little like I’m making a pact with the devil.
I still don’t fully trust him.
Ben: It cannot be healthy, the way I constantly dream of you.
18 dates.
63 phone calls.
1000+ texts.
4 weeks’ worth of Ben.
The best four weeks of my life.
Falling in love with the wrong person is easy. Falling in love with the right person is easier. But falling in love with your soul mate is easiest.
It’s meant to be.
I don’t think falling is the right word when referring to my feelings for Ben, though. How about soaring? Every time I’m with him I feel like I can fly. I feel weightless.
I feel free.
It’s not like I haven’t felt the butterflies in my stomach before; the loss of sleep because you can’t stop thinking about someone, the crazy high of making out; I’ve felt them all. But with Ben, butterflies don’t just flutter inside me. They ricochet like flying bullets. Falling asleep under a pink and purple sky after a night spent with him is my new normal.
When he whispers between kisses how beautiful I am, how much he loves the way I smell, and how much he wants me, I feel high. And when I feel the scratch of his rough hands touch my body intimately, gently, roughly, but always with need, I am delirious.
Sitting on the steps of my front porch, I watch the falling rain wetting the asphalt. My skin pebbles with goosebumps when the cool autumn air sneaks in between my clothes, touching my body. The chilly air helps to cool down my hot cheeks, a physical reaction that appears every time I think about Ben and what this weekend could mean in our relationship.
Slutty Cathy screams in the back of my mind: It better mean some freaking sex, like, hello! Penis, meet my vagina.
“What’s so funny?” my dad asks, scratching his head when I laugh out loud. He’s sitting next to me while I wait for Ben to arrive.
I shouldn’t be laughing when my worried father is so close to changing his mind about this weekend. Honestly, I was even surprised that my dad allowed it since this will be the first time in my entire life that I’m traveling with a sort of boyfriend, sort of seeing, guy. A guy he knows I’ll probably be having sex with if I haven’t already, on said vacation.
I turn to look at my dad, trying to control my laughter as he watches me with those wise green eyes of his. They are so knowing; they seem to hold the key to the secrets of life.
“Nothing, Daddy. Just something funny that happened during class.”
“I don’t believe you one bit, Missy, but I’m letting it go.”
Sitting so close to him, his familiar scent wafting through my nose, I can see the years’ worth of laugh lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. It reminds me how hard he’s worked to make my life a happy one.
“Daddy, it’s nothing,” I say as I stare at him. “Do you remember when I was eight years old and I cried for an entire week because my best friend, Lisa, was going to Disney and I couldn’t go with her?”
He chuckles. “Of course, how could I not? I tried to reason with you that we couldn’t afford a Disney vacation, but how much logic can you instill in an eight year old?”
I can’t help giggling. “I was quite stubborn…”
“No, you were my angel, and it was my fault.” He takes my hand in his. “I couldn’t take off work and be able to pay for it. But I remember seeing how heartbroken you were.’
“So, you bought me a princess dress instead and pretended to be a dragon,” I state as I watch the man who I love the most in my life. My daddy.
His eyes crinkle as he smiles, remembering that time. “Yes, I took you to the nearest toy store and bought you a princess dress, then took you to Juniper Park where I chased you across the park.”
“Hey! It was an enchanted garden!” I exclaim.
“Those were the days. Now my little girl is making someone else chase after her.”
“Daddy!”
We look at each other and laugh.
My dad is perfect and means the world to me. Maybe one day I’ll get lucky and meet a man like him and marry him.
My mind automatically goes to a pair of brown eyes, but I shut the image out. Really, Cathy?
Watching as the concern written on his face grows, I feel a pang of guilt for not telling him what has been going on between Ben and I, but seriously? How could I? Where would I even begin? Should I tell him that I’m falling so hard for Ben that just the thought of hearing his voice makes my body go hot and cold, sending shivers down my spine? That we can talk on the phone for hours about everythin
g and nothing at all, and most importantly that he makes me giggle like a thirteen year old?
Should I tell him that I’ve waited this long to have sex with Ben because I’m not completely sure he’s over his ex? And that if he were to get back together with her, ending whatever we have going on right now, it would cause some serious damage within me. The kind that makes it hard to breathe.
Should I also tell him that well, even though we “technically” haven’t had sex, we’ve done pretty much everything you can do with two sets of very willing hands and mouths? And that each time we’ve been together, we push the physical boundaries further and further?
As understanding as I think my father is, if he knew exactly what was going on in my mind, I think he’d completely lose it. However, he knows I’m not a virgin anymore. He almost killed Jack, and his father when he found the condom wrapper under my bed.
Talk about awkward.
I reach for my dad and one arm hug him. Pushing my body closer to his, I nuzzle the edge of his sweater clad shoulder, breathing in the smell of rain, musty cotton and his ever familiar cologne. “The boy who happens to be chasing after me is a good guy.” I try to reassure him. But I don’t think he believes me by the look on his face. He knows I’m not telling him the whole story.
Fuck-Fuckity-fuck.
I so don’t want to be having this conversation with my dad right before I leave.
He clears his throat, “Catherine, I know it’s a bit late to be having this conversation.”
And there you have it. Looks like we are having the discussion after all.
“I raised you well, and I know that you respect yourself and your body, but are you sure you’re ready to be traveling with some boy who you’ve been seeing for less than a month?” My dad wraps his left arm around my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. Like that’s going to help.
I recline my head on his shoulder. “Well. I think I’m ready, Daddy. Please don’t ask for details. It’s freaking me out having this conversation with you, but if you must know. I don’t think you have to worry. We know what we are doing.”
Staring at each other, my dad raises an eyebrow as if calling my bullshit. “Anyway, it won’t be just the two of us. As you already know because I’m pretty sure we’ve gone over this before plenty of times, a bunch of his friends will be there. It’s a house party, Dad.”