Halfway Perfect (18 page)

The loud buzz of the washer startles both of us. My eyes fly open and I'm suddenly aware of how heavily I'm breathing and how it feels like there're four hands all over me but it's really only two; they just keep leaving a trail of heat between their previous location and the current one.

“I'm sorry,” Alex says, his mouth pressed against my neck. “It'll just keep buzzing like that until I at least open the lid. Something's wrong with it.”

He pushes himself up and rolls off the side of the bed, onto his feet. “I'll be right back.”

The fog begins to clear from my head and I still can't believe how easy this has been. For a while there, I thought we were gonna be stuck with all that awkwardness. The shower had been easy because subconsciously, I knew what we
wouldn't
be doing in there and I hadn't really thought about after. I know guys aren't supposed to make a girl go too far if she doesn't want to, but I had totally dangled everything in front of him and then slammed the door shut, so it's not like I expected anything that resembled patience from Alex.

“Uh-oh,” Alex says after flopping down beside me again. “You look contemplative. Is that a word?”

I laugh. “I think it is. I'm just wondering…” I roll on my side to face him. “Well, you didn't ask me why I don't want to and I thought—”

“Should I have asked you that?” He places his hand against my stomach and slides it up toward my breasts. “It doesn't really matter to me why. I mean you can tell me if you want, but I'm not going to talk you out of it, or into it, technically speaking. It'd be like dragging someone to a movie I've been dying to see but know they'll hate. Not really fun for anyone. And I'm kind of having fun right now, aren't you?”

“Yes.” I can feel myself smiling as I lean down to kiss him. “That's actually what I'm worried about. I haven't really liked it before.”

“What? Sex?”

I nod and stay propped up on my elbow, hovering over him. “I didn't hate it or anything. It was just so-so, you know?”

“Oh.” His eyebrows shoot upward. “I guess I don't know personally. I'm a guy so it's usually not so-so, as you put it, but I'm sure it happens. So what specifically were you disappointed with?”

How do I put this into words for him? I didn't feel the connection I thought I'd feel. It didn't solve my problems with Wes. It didn't make him want to be with me forever. I'm glad about that last item, but now I'm wondering if my naive girl fantasies ruined the experience. Honestly, I don't even know what would be considered realistic expectations for this particular experience with Alex. I want to ask him this, but I'm too afraid. Too embarrassed. Those kinds of questions seem like such a buzzkill.

“I'm sure it's totally me,” I say in a rush. “I'm probably dysfunctional or something.”

Now he looks like he's fighting laughter. He brushes my hair back behind my ears so it doesn't keep falling into his eyes. “I highly doubt that, Eve.”

He sits up and then he's standing on the gray carpet again, reaching down to grab jeans and a T-shirt.

“See? I've already scared you away, haven't I?” I stretch out on the bed again, pulling two of the pillows under my head. “You're getting mental images of what dysfunctional Eve looks like, aren't you?”

“Not even close.” He grins and squeezes my ankle. “But I promised you breakfast and it's almost noon. If I starve you, I'm pretty sure you'll leave before you have to.”

“When do I have to leave?”

He opens a desk drawer and tosses a white, folded piece of paper at me. “I'd say we have enough supplies to last at least forty-eight hours, when the roommates return.”

I hold up the paper. “And Thai delivery until midnight on weekends.”

“It's just across the street,” he says. “Tell me what you want and I'll run and get it.”

I barely gaze over the menu before pointing to a random item. My appetite seems to have vanished and my head is throbbing. Damn cold.

As soon as Alex is out the door, I realize how incredibly freezing I am. I peel back the covers on his bed and slide under, curling myself into a ball, waiting for heat to fill the empty space.

November 28, 4:30 p.m.

Eve's been asleep for nearly three hours. I figured she'd wake up when I sat beside her on the bed and opened a carton of very strong-smelling Thai food or even when I turned on the TV after fifteen minutes of being bored with the silence, but she didn't.

It wasn't until she rolled over in her sleep and started coughing that I remembered her coughing earlier and our discussion about the cold she most likely acquired from Professor Larson's granddaughter two days ago. After moving the hair off her face, I felt her forehead and decided to make a run to the drugstore for some supplies. Other than a giant first aid kit from my mom and a giant box of condoms my dad got me for my birthday (because he's obviously under the impression that all people do in New York City is have sex), this apartment is pretty devoid of cold and flu season items that are always available in bulk at my house.

I've been back for an hour now and she's still asleep. I decide to wake her up. She hasn't had anything to eat or drink today that I'm aware of and that seems like it might override the need for sleep at some point.

“Eve?” I shake her shoulders gently and wait.

She sits up, squinting from the bright sunlight that's decided to emerge right before it's time to set again. “It's still Saturday, right?”

“Yeah.” I laugh. “I'm not
that
patient.”

“God, I'm sorry,” she says. “I don't even remember falling asleep.”

I give her a weary smile. “I hate to say this, since you're in denial and all, but I'm pretty sure you have a fever.”

She slides out of bed and finds the T-shirt I loaned her earlier and pulls it over her head, inside out. “I should go. I'm going to get you sick.”

“It's too late to worry about that.” I reach across the bed and tug her back in and toss the covers over her again. “You should have something to drink. Water, orange juice, tea, soda?”

“Orange juice sounds good,” she mumbles with her face half against the pillow.

I return five minutes later with a glass of juice, a bottle of water, a bag of drugstore supplies, and reheated chicken soup from the deli across the street. I picked it up on my way back from Rite Aid.

Eve is sitting up, taking tiny sips of the juice, when I dump the contents of the bag onto the bed. “Okay, you totally didn't have to go shopping for my cold.”

I shrug and hold up the box of tissues and the nighttime cold medicine. “I've never done this for anyone before, but I highly recommend these two items, and the soup is fantastic. I go there and get it sometimes even when I'm not sick.”

“Thanks Alex,” she says with a grin, picking up the spoon and soup container.

I flip through the channels while Eve finishes her soup and her juice and then downs the cold medicine. When I hold up the new toothbrush I bought today, she laughs and says, “You really don't want me to leave, do you?”

“Keeping a sick girl prisoner in my apartment is a longtime fantasy of mine.”

She smiles at me before getting up to use the bathroom and the new toothbrush. When she comes back, I get under the covers with her and turn on an episode of
The
Office
waiting for me on my DVR.

I have a feeling that Eve curling up to me in my own bed is going to be a lot like the shower. It won't ever be the same, lying here by myself. And what if this opportunity doesn't come again for months? What if Elana and I have to be a couple for two years or longer and this is the only time Eve and I can be alone together? Could I survive the relationship without this now that I've had it? Maybe we could both take a separate flight to some remote tropical island that doesn't allow people with cameras and we could spend the weekend there every month or so.

Maybe I should just enjoy this right now and quit obsessing about tomorrow and the next day.

November 29, 1:00 a.m.

It's dark when I wake up again. The cold medicine has kicked in and brought my fever down. I raise my head and glance around the room, my eyes still adjusting to the dark. Alex has cleaned up the dozen wadded-up tissues I tossed on the nightstand and removed the empty soup container and refilled my glass of orange juice. I reach over and snatch the water bottle, taking a big swig and returning it before allowing myself to take in Alex's sleeping figure.

A wave of emotion hits me when I finally stare at him. He's lying on his back, hair messy, his mouth half open and his chest rising and falling slowly. I keep picturing him walking to the drugstore and thinking about me with every one of the dozen items he bought today. There's so much good in him that I'm desperate to find a way to unzip him and crawl inside and let myself be even closer.

There's really no reason for me to not get as close as possible. I may have had some reluctance earlier, but it's faded little by little throughout the day.

Maybe that was all part of his plan, but that doesn't change how I feel.

I lean closer to Alex and touch my mouth to his. His eyes are still shut but he lifts a hand to my hip, skimming his fingers up my side, under my borrowed T-shirt. I smile against his mouth, my heart speeding up. Is he in the middle of some hot dream and that's why his hands are in motion while his mind is still asleep? In that case, I might as well lure him awake properly. I sit up and remove my shirt, tossing it onto the floor before hovering over him again.

When I kiss him this time, there's a brand-new kind of heat filling the space between us as my bare skin presses against his. This is the first time I've ever felt this urgency, this completely self-involved need to have someone inside of me. To be that close for the sake of being that close and no other objective except that it needs to be Alex. Maybe that's the answer I was looking for earlier about expectations? Maybe I just needed to want it so much that the outcome would be inevitable.

Alex's mouth starts moving against mine, his fingertips gliding up my sides again. The more of my bare skin he comes in contact with, the more he seems to wake up until he finally pulls his mouth from mine, staring up at me wide-eyed.

“You would make a great alarm clock, Eve.”

Two entire seconds pass, both of us frozen, him feeling the tension radiating off me. And then he flips me over onto my back, his mouth trailing kisses all along my neck before moving lower.

By the time his lips reach my stomach I can hardly breathe, let alone speak, but I manage to stutter out a few words. “Do you have—”

“Condoms,” he finishes for me. “Yeah, but if you want to wait…”

I shake my head. “No…no waiting.”

His fingers trail lightly over my inner thighs and my hands land in his hair, gripping fistfuls of it.

It's like I'm on some two-day staycation from my regular life. The Alex Evans resort in SoHo, complete with clean towels, laundry service, cold and flu supplies, and all the key ingredients for falling in love.

“Do you think we'll be able to come here again?” Eve asks.

I'm still waiting for my heart to slow down and my breathing to return to normal, so I don't answer her right away. My mind is lingering on the feel of her fingers pressed into the skin on my back, her hands tangled in my hair. I guess I've learned my lesson. Just accept that I'm not going to get what I want and then maybe it'll happen anyway. But that's not entirely true. I really did just want her to stay. Okay, so maybe the getting naked part was subconsciously on my list. We were all wet when we got here. Stripping was a necessity.

Eve's head is on my chest now and her body is halfway on top of mine and I can feel her relaxing into me, preparing to drift off. I rub the back of her neck with one hand and rest the other hand on her thigh.

“We will. I'll figure something out,” I say finally then I switch subjects. “So, what's the verdict? Have you changed your mind about the whole not liking sex thing?”

She laughs and I can feel her face heating up. I love that she's completely naked with me and there's still a way for me to make her blush.

“In this case,” she says, “yes I've completely changed my mind.”

Okay, so I'm not too arrogant to enjoy hearing that. “Maybe it's that long absence you mentioned earlier. How long are we talking about?”

She's quiet for a while and I can practically hear her contemplating something. “Since I left New York the first time.”

The question is hanging in the air. She knows I want to know why she left, but I'd never push the issue. I've kept the door open and somehow, I can tell she's about to walk through.

“If I told you that I left because of a guy,” she whispers finally, “would you think less of me?”

“You ditched Gucci because of a guy?” She stiffens in my arms. I lift her chin and kiss her, long and slow, before saying, “Forget I said that. No, I don't think less of you.”

“Well, I am much wiser than I was two years ago, if that helps at all.” Her fingers glide over my chest, and she turns her head to kiss my shoulder. “When do you do the fragrance campaign?”

“Next month.”

“What happens after?” I can hear her carefully hiding the hope in her voice, trying to sound like it doesn't matter.

I tighten my arms around Eve as if my subconscious is telling me to hold on to her just in case. “I don't know. Maybe by then people will be over Elana and I being a couple.”

Mentally, I'm calculating what I'll get for this fragrance campaign. They're still negotiating, but it'll be somewhere between a hundred thousand and five hundred thousand depending on how many years it runs for. It's two thousand a month for this apartment, plus another two thousand for additional monthly expenses. On that, I can't even make it to twenty-five, let alone to retirement, assuming I actually start a retirement fund, on that one job. I've got a decent amount saved up already, but it's only savings if I have other income.

Eve lifts her head to look at me, pulling me from my mental math. “It's not just the couple thing that people are latching on to. You had jobs before Elana came along. You were on the rise. I had a couple of meetings with the CK designers, so I heard them talk about you. They love you. Trust me.”

I don't really know how to respond to that. Eve saying those things carries even more weight than Wes's pep talks because she doesn't bullshit about stuff like this.

“Let me ask you this, then,” she says after my long silence. “What do you
want
to do after the fragrance campaign? If you could pick any job or anything?”

Have
my
real
girlfriend
over
whenever
I
want. Introduce her to my roommates. Take her somewhere that's not a library, bookstore, coffee shop, or jogging
route
.

“Honestly?” I say and Eve nods, waiting. I gently press her head until her cheek is resting against my chest again. “I wouldn't mind being able to call my mom and maybe my sister and tell them I'm dating this really hot, really smart photography student from Columbia. They'd be pretty damn impressed.”

She finds my hand and squeezes it. “Where were you three years ago? I really could have used a nice boyfriend then.”

“As opposed to a not-nice boyfriend?” I can't help asking. Seriously, what does she mean by that?

“Something like that,” she mumbles and then drifts off to sleep before I can ask anything else.