Push(16)

“Bye, boys,” I say, pleased with the confidence in my voice. I stop just inside the apartment door and wait for David to catch up. Once he’s next to me, I turn and push him into the wall. I hold the back of his neck and press my mouth to his, twisting against his tongue. He pulls me towards him by my waist. We kiss hard, and for a moment, I consider staying for the screwing and whatevering, but then I remember myself and pull away.
He lets go of my waist, and I walk out.
I contemplate standing outside his door to see if I can hear what they say, but then I decide I’d rather not, just in case it isn’t very flattering. I feel pretty damned convinced that David enjoyed that as much as I did, and I don’t want to hear otherwise. I walk my confident self back down the stairs and into my apartment.
It’s only eleven, and because of my impromptu nap this afternoon, I’m not the least bit tired. I take a long shower, washing David off my skin, and get dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. I spend the rest of the evening camped out on the couch watching reruns of South Park and drinking the rest of the mug wine. I think I occasionally hear someone going down the steps and out the front door, but I’m not about to peek out the window and see. I don’t want David to know I’m still thinking about him.
* * *

The sex, wine and reruns cause me to sleep in way later than I had planned. I haven’t checked anything off my weekend to-do list yet, unless you count the few boxes I unpacked yesterday before Michael showed up. After eating a breakfast bar, I set to the task of unpacking the rest of the boxes. When I am done, the only ones remaining are those from Michael—which I shove to the back of my closet and try to forget—and the ones containing the kitchen stuff that I can’t unpack until David is finished.
I spend the rest of my Sunday doing the mundane. Since I can now walk on the kitchen floor, I make a quick trip to the grocery store for some food, beer and more wine, and make myself a late lunch as soon as I return. Part of me was hoping to run into David while I was out, but then I recalled his note saying that he had plans for the day. When I finish washing my lunch dishes, my phone buzzes. It’s him.


Hi.


Hi back.


What r u doing?


Getting my shit together.


Shit?


Unpacking and grocery store. Going to hang pictures now.


Need my tool belt?


He is flirting again. I want to be coy, but...


U left it here yesterday. I’m wearing it right now.


Is that so?


Yep. And it looks damn fine on me, too.


I’ll bet it does.


Where r u?


Boating with the boys.


Any girls?


Do I really want to know the answer to that?


None wearing a tool belt.


So what r they wearing then?


Nothing that matters to me.


What the hell does that mean? That he isn’t looking at what they are wearing because he doesn’t give a damn, or that they aren’t wearing anything at all?


Define nothing.


It means that it doesn’t matter what they r wearing, or not wearing, as the case may b.


Because...?


Because whatever it is, it isn’t u in those blue panties.


U aren’t going to let any of those girls sit on your lap r u?


No, Emma. I am not.


Because I will kick your f*cking ass if u do.


I know.


I slide my phone closed and put it back in my pocket. I can’t believe it, but the thought of David on some boat with a bunch of barely dressed women makes my skin sear. Why? I don’t understand how I can be so jealous when we only spent one night together. And shit, it wasn’t even a night. It was barely an hour. But then I remember our conversation about me meeting his friends. He was jealous, too, wasn’t he? Possessive, even. I’m beginning to wonder where this is all going.
I spend the rest of the afternoon clumsily hanging pictures on the walls, ironing my work clothes for the week, and mapping out the bus route for my morning commute. I am excited and nervous about starting my new job tomorrow. As the evening rolls in, I check my cell phone occasionally to see if David texted. There is nothing, and I am highly disappointed in myself for caring so much. I feel like a damn stooge every time I look at my phone.
I make myself some pasta for dinner and finish the employment paperwork that’s due at the office tomorrow. I hate myself for it, but I’ve been listening for noise on the stairs the entire evening. What the f*ck is he doing? He can’t still be on a boat; it’s pitch-dark outside. I don’t want to care about where the hell he is, and honestly, it’s none of my damn business. But I do care...and it’s driving me f*cking crazy.
I walk back to my bedroom and pull my pepper spray out of my purse. I carry it back to the living room and put it on top of his tool box. Then I get a piece of paper and place the following message under the spray canister:


David—
Next time you are going to be out late with a bunch of half-naked whores, please take this with you. Feel free to use it liberally. I know where to get more.
Emma
PS. Please tell me I don’t have to kick your f*cking ass...


It’s midnight now, and I go to bed.



chapter Nine

I am up and out of the apartment by 7:05 because I suspect it will take me a good forty five minutes to get to work. I’ll have to make at least one bus transfer, and until I know the route better, I want to give myself plenty of time. Turns out it takes me a little over fifty minutes to get downtown, and by the time I walk into the office building, I only have a few minutes to spare. I like to be early, though, so I decide to be out the door by 6:50 from here on out.