RoomHate(57)

I don’t know.

When I didn’t respond, he simply said, “We took a walk on the beach…talked. Then, I drove her to the train.”

“You were gone so long. I just assumed…”

“That we were somewhere f*cking? No. I drove around for a while alone just to think.”

“I see. What did you and Jade decide?”

“She thinks the real reason I ended it was because I’d found her hanging out with that guy, but that’s not the truth. I’d gone to New York with the full intention of breaking things off before I even saw her having dinner with him.”

“You explained that to her?”

“I couldn’t be completely upfront about everything.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d have to admit stuff to her that I haven’t even admitted to you…and I didn’t want to hurt her even more.”

“Things like…”

“Remember what I said about cheating?”

“That if you have the urge to cheat on someone, it’s better to just break up with that person?”

“Yeah. Well, I had the urge to cheat…with you…multiple times last summer. I thought that maybe you becoming a mother would somehow make me see you in a different light now, make me less attracted somehow, but that hasn’t been the case. It’s been the opposite. You’ve never been sexier to me. But even if nothing were to happen between us, my attraction to you is a sign that something was off between Jade and me. You shouldn’t covet someone else like that if you’re in a healthy relationship. It’s an indication that something is missing, even if you don’t know exactly what it is. I don’t believe in dragging things out if the outcome is already determined in your mind.”

“Is Jade okay?”

“Not really.”

It really did pain me to know that she was hurting. I felt bad for her and remained confused about where things stood with Justin and me.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

“I’ve already told you what I want to do.”

“I thought this morning you said you came to the conclusion it was a bad idea, that you didn’t want that with me anymore.”

“I never said that. What I meant was that I was out of line in the way I presented it to you. I was being overly aggressive because I felt threatened, came on to you like a caveman. I never explicitly said I didn’t want it, and for the record, neither did you.”

“I explained my reservations…”

“And I understand them. I fully get why you’re afraid to take things to a sexual level with me. The logical side of me thinks you’re right, but the illogical side of me doesn’t give a f*ck and is only thinking about lifting you over my face right now and making you come while you ride my mouth.”

Those words hit me straight between the legs.

He went on, “The fact that you just squirmed in your seat is proof that you also have an illogical side. Maybe our illogical sides need to meet sometime.” He leaned into me and grinned. “But not tonight. Despite your threatening to find a f*ck buddy…you’re not ready. That would be like jumping over all the letters of the alphabet from A to Z.”

“You’ve been watching too much Sesame Street with Bea.”

“Fuck. Maybe. Anyway, you’re at level A right now. My dick is at level Z. And it doesn’t match up. That was one of the things I figured out on my drive tonight. That you’re not there yet despite all your talk about hotel sex.” He got up. “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned, he was holding something behind his back. “What’s the one thing we did when we were younger whenever we were in a shitty mood or just didn’t know what the f*ck to do with ourselves?”

“We’d watch The Big Lebowski.”

He displayed the DVD from behind him. “Bingo.”

“I can’t believe you still have that.”

“Always have it on hand.”

“I’ll pop some popcorn,” I said, eagerly running to the kitchen, relieved that the tension in the air had lessened. He was right. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to lose him, but as much as I wanted him, I wasn’t ready for a sexual relationship with him or anyone.

We sat in comfortable silence watching the cult movie that in retrospect was probably way too inappropriate for our former thirteen-year-old selves. But neither of us had parents who’d monitored what we watched back then. The opening scene where the main character got his head shoved in a toilet brought back so many memories. We used to think it was the greatest thing ever.

Midway through the flick, Justin lay on his back, resting his head on my lap. Without thinking it through, I did what felt natural and massaged my hand through the silky strands of his hair.

He let out a slight groan of pleasure as he continued to watch the movie while I played with his hair.

At one point, he turned to me, and I instinctively moved my hand off of him, remembering the time last summer when he’d told me to stop. “Why did you stop?” He realized it on his own. “No way I’m telling you to stop this time, Amelia. Please keep doing it. It feels so good.”

I kept at it for the better part of a half-hour.

My attention was no longer on the movie when I asked, “What else did you figure out on your drive tonight?”