Wednesday (9 page)

Considering our few encounters, I’m
sure Aria and I are compatible.  The trouble is, with Aria, it’s more than
chemistry. More than a physical need. I want her. Hell, I’ve always wanted her.
But some sick part of me also wants to make her pay for breaking my heart. I
might just be able to do that in bed, if she’ll let me. I wonder what she’d say
if I explained it could be therapeutic.

There is no doubt in my mind that
an affair with Aria would be incredible. We are drawn together in a purely
primal way. It’s a sensation where you know it probably isn’t a good idea, yet
it is the best fucking thing you’d ever heard of. Like those chips you can’t
have only one of, that artisan cheese that makes your mouth water, the perfect full-bodied
cabernet, the chocolate layer cake. Endorphin rushes and pure bliss. Best
consumed in small doses. That’s what we are together, and what we need to
remember. That’s why this situation is perfect.

Up until now, we’ve been pulled
apart. Too many obligations and too many people around us. Our lives are not
our own. What would we do by ourselves with a full night together? I ache just thinking
about it.

And she’s close, so close, to
saying yes. Which is why I didn’t mention that I was teaching. She might not
like the power exchange in the real world, and I can’t scare her off when I’ve
come this far.

“Hello, Tris.”  Ms. Prince catches
my arm as I walk down the street thinking crude thoughts about her daughter. So
very classy of me.

“Hi, Ms. Prince,” I say. “You look
amazing today.”

“Thank you, sweetheart, but stop
with the formalities.” She fusses with her shirt. “You’re an adult now, you can
call me Amelia.”

“All right then, Amelia.”

“Cade, this is Tristan Green,”
Amelia says to the little twerp. “One of your mommy’s oldest friends.”

“I remember,” he says, eyeing me
carefully.

“Hey, Cade,” I say. “How are you,
dude?”

“Good.”

“We met at the grocery store and
ice cream shop,” I tell Amelia. “You must be happy to have him here.”

“I don’t even have the words,
Tristan. Both Cade and Aria. I’ve missed them so much. And now we have together
dinner every night. And Serena’s nannying for all my grandchildren.”

“Where is she today?” I ask, not
ready for another run-in. 

“She takes the other boys to speech
in the afternoon so I have Cade for a few hours.”

“Sounds perfect,” I say.

“I have a red hand,” Cade announces
out of the blue.

“Okay,” I add, unsure what the
proper response is. Man, children are strange creatures. “That’s pretty cool, I
guess.”

“The boys were playing cops and
robbers today,” Amelia explains, “and when Leo told Cade that he was caught
red-handed, Cade insisted he needed a red hand.”

“Of course,” I agree. “Why wouldn’t
you?”

“That’s what I said,” Cade pipes
up.

“Oh shoot, I’ve left my purse at
the diner,” Amelia says.  “Do you have time to watch Cade for a second? I can
get down and back faster on my own.”

“Sure, I was just walking to the
park to work on my next lesson.”

“Oh, perfect. You can keep walking
that way, I’ll meet you there.”

“You want me to take him to the
park?” I ask. Is she out of her mind?

“Oh, would you, sweetie?” she asks
like it’s no big deal.

“Yeah, the park. Will you, T?” Cade
asks.

Did he just give me a nickname?

“Okay,” I tell them. “I guess I
could do that.”

“Wonderful,” she says and turns to
leave.

“Wait,” I tell her. “Don’t I need
some instructions or directions or something?”

“You’ll be fine.” She pats me on
the shoulder.

“But what if he has an accident?” I
ask.

“You’re just walking a few blocks.”

“Of the bathroom variety.”

“He’s been potty trained for two
years.”

“What if he cries?”

Little dude glares at me now.

“He’s a boy, not an alien, Tristan.”

I’m not so sure.

“You can handle it,” she says.
“I’ll meet you there.”

The alien and I race to the park,
but he pouts when I win. Maybe I should’ve let him have that one.

“You cheated,” he says.

“I have to, dude. I’m an old man.
How else do you expect me to win?”

Cade looks at me like I’m insane.

At the park, we play tag and I try
not to cheat. He’s laughing so hard, he falls to the ground and I notice a long
line of snot dripping from his nose to his upper lip.

I have to hold in a gag.

“Come here, buddy,” I say, using
the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe his nose, which I think is brilliant
improvising on my part.

“Not supposed to use your shirt as
a tissue.” Cade waves a finger at me. “Mom says.”

“You tell her that we didn’t have
another option. Do you see tissues around here?”

Cade shakes his head.

“Let me see.” I wiggle his ears.
“Are you sure you don’t have any hiding in your ears?”

Cade erupts in laughter.

“What about in your pits?” I lift
his arm to the sound of more giggles.

Damn, I’m a real Chris Rock over
here.

“Come on,” he says.

Okay, already bored with my
stand-up routine, I see.

“Let’s slide.”

We head over and I chose the slide
instead of the ladder to get up to the platform. Cade is beside himself.

“Can’t go up that way,” he scolds.

“You can when there’s nobody at the
park to say no. It’s a special rule.”

“It is?” He’s shocked.

“Yep.”

Cade looks around to be sure the
slide police aren’t watching. Then he follows me up.

***

The next day, Amelia and Cade are
hanging out in the same spot. Interesting.

“S’up?” I ask.

“S’up,” Cade repeats. “You’re
funny.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to go to the park again?”
Cade asks his grandma.

“I’m not up for it today, sweet
pea,” Amelia says. “Let’s just sit on the bench and read. Nana’s legs are
tired.”

Cade doesn’t argue, but his body
language is subdued, his eyes sad. They look just like his mother’s, gutting me
the same way hers do when she’s unhappy.  

“I could take him.” The words fall
out of my mouth before I can consider them.

And this is how Cade and I begin
our afternoon playdates. But in all truthfulness, I’m not sure who has the
better time.

When Tuesday rolls
around, I’m exhausted. Keeping up with school, the diner, and Cade. And then
there’s Tris bothering me every darn chance he gets. I’m not used to being
pursued in this way, and though it’s flattering on some level, I’m not sure
what to do with it.

After anatomy, I’m preparing for
another Tristan ambush when a guy from class catches up to me.

“Hey, Aria, is it?” the cute,
blonde frat-boy type says, meeting my pace as I navigate through the crowded
hallway.

“It is,” I say, blinded by his
toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile. Seriously, I think it sparkled. “And you’re
Brandon, right?”

“Yeah.” The smile brightens, if
that’s even possible. “Are you ready for the test?”

“Getting there,” I say. “You?”

“Same,” he says as we walk outside.
“What do you say we have a study session to bring us the rest of the way home?
I really need an A in this course.”

“Sure,” I answer, thinking we could
quiz each other in the commons.

“Great. Pizza, books, and beer
tonight? I could swing by and pick you at up 7:00.”

Was he crazy?  A study date? I ate
dinner at 5:00 and had Cade in the bath and ready for bed by 7:00. Plus, if
beer was involved I wouldn’t retain a damn thing.

“Sorry, I have plans this evening,”
I say, not ready to tell him I live the life of a forty-year-old woman.

His smile immediately fades.

“But I have an hour now between
classes.” I could use a little help, and maybe a new friend or two.

“Really?” he asks.

“Yeah, do you want to grab a spot
outside?”

“Perfect.”

We settle in on the grass and start
quizzing each other. And just as we’re getting comfortable, laughing and
interspersing real conversation between questions about the key parts to the integumentary
system, I can sense him.

Tristan stands over us, putting a
shadow on the book we’re sharing. I scoot away from Brandon, realizing we’re
sitting pretty close.

“Aria,” Tristan says, his faced
strained.

“Hi Tristan.” I give him a cold
greeting.

“Sorry to interrupt.” He glares at
Brandon. “But I need a minute.”

“No problem, man,” Brandon says.
“Catch you in class tomorrow, Aria.”

“Sure,” I say, trying to hold it
together until he leaves.

Tris sits next to me, even closer
than Brandon, and I feel the snap of energy between us.

“I thought you weren’t ready,” he
says, working his jaw. “That’s why you’ve been putting me off. I’ve been trying
to give you room and then I walk into this?”

 “Maybe I’m just not ready for
you,” I say, ready to pick a fight.

“That’s it, Ari.” He stills. “No
more games. You’re either in or you’re out.”

“Jeez, what’s with you. You’re so
bossy, so serious. What happened to the fun-loving guy who loved Star Wars and
embraced his inner geek?”

“He’s still here, but he no longer
puts up with shit. So tell me, what will it be?”

“You know, I really don’t like the
new you.”

“Part of you does,” he says,
leaning so close I can’t catch my breath. “That part you hide from everyone.
Part of you loves the way I undress you with my eyes every time I see you. The
way I have to restrain from taking you seven ways until Sunday whenever we
share the same space. I think you love it.”

“Wow, you’re crude,” I say with
disgust, even though his dirty mouth gets me flustered every time. “What
happened to the gentleman? What happened to sweet?”

“Fuck sweet.” He strokes my arm and
the back of my hand, in a movement that’s a complete contrast from his dirty words.
“I’m not in this for sweet and neither are you. I’m not going to be a
gentleman. I’m not going to take you all slow and soft. At least not the first
time. It’s going to be hard. And rough. Don’t mistake what this is, Aria. We’re
going to fuck the sense out of each other. And then we’re going to do it
again.”

I don’t recognize it at first.
Maybe because Alex never looked at me that way. Ever. Well, maybe once, when
Cade was conceived.

No, I was Alex’s buddy, caretaker
of his child, the person who made his meals and did his laundry. He was King
Shit on campus, so no guys dared to look at me. I was just this sexless thing.
But it could’ve been worse. That’s what I told myself.

And at least he didn’t leave me
eighteen and pregnant like one of those MTV disasters.

So I let myself become weak – at his
disposal to be used. Now when Tristan’s eyes are on me like this, I remember
what it’s like to be seen.

Tristan’s eyes cloud over as he
sizes me up… and down.

“Oh yes, the things I’m going to do
to you,” he says in my ear. His breath hot and wet.

 “I haven’t said yes yet,” I remind
him.

Yet.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Aria.
You just did. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Tristan, I really haven’t
decided.”

“Well, I have. Tomorrow. Beach
House. 7:00.”

I light the
candles, straighten the bed, and wait, praying she’ll see how perfect this is.

I’m so ready to show her what she
missed when she left with him. Still, I won’t rush. I’ll take my time exploring
her body, watching her responses, learning what she likes, and discovering how
I can make her writhe under me and scream my name. 

The minutes tick down and my
confidence wavers. For a second, I hate myself for being in this position.
Again.

But then, there’s a knock.

“You made it,” I say, holding the
door open. Christ, she smells good – like cake batter – and looks even better.
Her hair falls over her shoulders in dark waves and her skirt and silk blouse
are the epitome of feminine, but there’s something not quite right.  

“I did,” she says primly as she
walks inside. Fidgeting with the bracelet around her wrist, she’s pale and I
know she’s second-guessing. I’ll have to work on that.

“I’m glad.” I warm up to her first.

“Well, don’t get the wrong idea,”
she starts blathering, taking a seat in the kitchen at the center island. “I’m
not your sex slave or anything. I’m just here for regular, normal sex to blow
off some steam.”

“Why do you have to do that?” I
ask, pulling up another stool, while I try to hide my grin after her little
tirade.

I’m so ready for the games to begin.

“Do what?” she asks.

 “Take away the fun and suck the
life out of everything?”

And… we’re off.

“I’m sorry, Tristan,” she spits. “I
have a son, and school, and I’m a fucking waitress living in her mother’s
house. I have responsibilities and I have to get my shit together. I can’t just
be all willy-nilly about everything.”

“Willy-nilly? What, are you eighty
now?”

 “You are such a colossal ass.”

There, that’s better. An angry Aria
is better than a skittish one.

“And you’re an uptight bitch… at
least you are to me.” I amend my answer because I could never really think of
her that way. No matter what’s she’s done.

“I wonder why.” She pouts.

There is color in her face again.
Her chest is flushed and frankly, I’m curious how far down it goes.

 “This is just about sex,” Aria
says and I swear, it’s the sweetest thing ever said to a man in all of history.

“That’s all I’m asking for, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”