Page 39 of Center of Gravity
I’d been so hard my fists had clenched when he got close and I’d jumped when he touched me.Go away,was all I could think,before I do something else I’ll regret.And when he’d left, I’d regretted that, too.
Stormed by a feeling of helplessness and indecision on both sides, I’d taken another swallow of scotch and gone to my room. And when I’d gotten up to go into his, I’d convinced myself it was for one simple thing, to tell him happy birthday. But my body had known all along it was for another.
Alex lay curledon his side, his exhales coming out in quiet puffs. I couldn’t sleep next to him and part of the reason was because I wanted sobadlyto sleep next to him. It was a fucked-up version of insomnia where, instead of being aware of the passage of time, I was aware of the rise and fall of his chest, the way his legs moved against mine, and those occasional little sleep twitches everyone had.
After an hour, when I knew I wouldn’t disturb him by getting up, I slipped from the bed and returned to my own room to shower and shave, then went down to the kitchen to make coffee, set up my computer, and begin working. The vestiges of that insomnia lingered and my thoughts strayed; I was acutely aware of him upstairs.
When confronted with a column of numbers, profit margins, and expenses, remembering the soft heat of Alex’s straining muscles distracted me. I could’ve sat there all morning with my pen jammed behind my ear replaying the harsh gasp Alex let out when he came. And yet the brighter the morning became, the more the haze of lust burned away and I was left wondering if I’d painted myself into a corner.
A relationship withanyonewas the last thing that I needed. I was a knot of issues that should have been worked out long ago and no one deserved to be put through that process with me, especially Alex. Our trajectories in life were too different. Alex and I simply didn’t add up for more than a night of fun. Now, with our mutual curiosities satisfied, we could move on. I didn’t think Alex would have any trouble. So why was I?
Alex meanderedin at a quarter to eight, raking a hand through sleep-wild hair. He was as devastating in the morning as I’d imagined he’d be: all bronze and sinew, bare chest, long legs with the punch of toned calves and sleekly-muscled thighs. I turned my attention back to the bleak column of numbers on my screen.
“Morning.” His voice was groggy with sleep, and adorable.
I jutted my chin toward the coffee maker. “It’s still hot.”
Alex eyed me, his mouth twisting up in a pensive bunch, then nodded, heading for the coffee pot. I suspected we were entering that doldrum territory of morning afters. A stray breeze would blow us either into the land of ignorance or conversation. I hoped for the former.
“Left hand cabinet,” I said when I heard him rummaging around for a mug.
Once he poured his coffee, I felt him come up behind my chair. He dropped a light touch on my shoulder, and though I didn’t flinch, I stiffened.
“What are you working on?”
His hand fell away and I relaxed as he sat in the chair next to mine, hissing as he took a sip from his mug. That sound. God, it took me right back to last night and made my cock twitch.
I needed to get him out of the house. “A few weeks of backlogged accounts someone else fucked up.” I even sounded grumpy to myself. I didn’t mean to; defensiveness and anxiety coated my words in an impenetrable carbon fiber shell.
Alex hummed, apparently unruffled, or trying to be, and stretched out his legs.
“There’s some aspirin in the cabinet.” I flicked a glance to him. Yep, still gorgeous. And also studying me again.
“I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”
In a way, it was kind of too bad. It would have been something to blame. Of course I still had no excuse. Alex’s thumb circled the rim of the coffee mug and then traced the handle.
“So we’re going with option b: ignoring last night? Or maybe option c: being totally awkward about it? I dunno, could be d: all of the above.” He perked a tiny smile, still watching me.
I cracked my knuckles and laced my fingers behind my head in a stretch, going for casual. “How about option e: we just move forward and leave last night alone and call us even now?”
“There’s never an option e.”
I sighed.
“Listen,” I said, exiting my spreadsheet and closing the top of the computer. “I shouldn’t have done that last night. I should have been in better control of my—myself.” I gestured around the kitchen. “I’m trying to simplify.”
“Ohhh, you’ve chosen option a: acknowledgment and self-blame. Itisa popular option. One I’ve chosen plenty of times.” He still wore that same little smile, but it took on an edge of sarcasm. “It’s also a cop-out. Sex doesn’t have to be complicated, you know.”
“But it almost always is. Especially with any kind of frequency.” Which was how I had ended up with Sean. One drunken free-for-all became a lunch time hand job on the sly, became a dinner and sex spree, became every Friday night at my apartment under the guise of hanging out and watching movies. See sex spree, again. In no time, we’d morphed from sex-hungry sybarites into semi-domesticated animals pawing at each other before finally transitioning to this-is-someone-I’d-like-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with. At least on my end.
I couldn’t do that with Alex, couldn’t even leave myself open to the possibility. He still had too much to do: career failures and successes, heartbreaks and one-night stands. Thinking about it terrified me at the same time it made me feel pretentious for all of the assumptions I was making. But the fact remained that our paths were too divergent.
Alex continued to look at me, a rather unconvinced expression on his face and maybe a little amusement.
“Look, Alex, we scratched the itch.”
“We scratched the surface, if you ask me.” He drained the rest of his coffee and rose to set the mug in the sink. “But I’m not going to plead my case or anything. I mean, I do have some pride. You’ve struck me down twice before, and though I’m not sure what last night was—other than really fucking good for me—I do have some pride. And I kind of hope you enjoyed it too, but if you didn’t, I can’t do anything about it. Either way, it’s not a big deal, so there’s no need for you to make a crime scene out of it.”