I spied my bag on the armchair where I’d dropped it when I first arrived. It contained my computer, a notepad, and a fresh pair of boxer briefs. The sexual part of our relationship was new enough that I didn’t feel comfortable packing a change of clothes. I didn’t want Blake to think I expected to sleep over every night. Or leave a toothbrush next to his.
Nope, I didn’t have any real experience with this kind of casual arrangement, but I was perfectly capable of adapting. Perhaps one aspect of adapting was knowing when it was time to retreat.
Like now.
Ezra uncapped his beer and raised it in a toast to Blake, who was studying me. Ezra seemed blissfully unaware of the strained undercurrent in the room. He rambled on about a college game, fast run, dodging defenders with seconds to spare before scoring the winning goal. It was Greek to me. I didn’t understand a word.
“Nothing alarming about it at all. Blake here is a lacrosse prodigy. No wonder they pay you the big bucks at that fancy snooty school,” Ezra teased.
“They pay me to teach algebra and calculus too.”
“Oh, don’t remind me. I forgot everything I learned about algebra the second I walked out of the classroom. Totally useless.” Ezra widened his eyes. “Oops. I should have asked if you’re a math guy too.”
“I’m a science…person,” I corrected, pushing my glasses up my nose. “Which makes me a math person too. I use algebra and trigonometry to ascertain relationships between quantities and calculus to measure incremental changes. I use differential equations too. It just depends on the situation.”
Silence.
Yes, it looked like I’d advertised my geek status. Oops.
Ezra chuckled. “You guys must work together, right?”
“No,” Blake answered just as I blurted, “Yes.”
“Which is it? Yes or no?”
I hiked my computer bag on my shoulder and pasted a smile on my face. “We’re working together on a project that’s loosely tied to scholastic interests. And lacrosse.”
“Oh, yeah? Do you play?”
“No, I watch. Well, I’ve watched a few games at Westgate. They’ve been quite good,” I reported woodenly.
“Yeah, it’s fun. So…what’s your project?” Ezra pressed.
I knew he was just being friendly, but I was more flustered than ever. I wasn’t accustomed to not telling the truth. However, this wasn’t my truth to tell. And I didn’t like that I’d played a part in putting Blake on the spot. I had to come up with something fast like—
“We’re organizing a party for…when they win,” I blurted.
Ezra frowned. “Isn’t that bad luck?”
Oh. Was it?
Blake pulled another beer from the fridge and smiled. I thought smiling at a time like this was odd, but I was firmly focused on getting out of there before I did more damage, so when he said, “Nah, it’s no big deal,” I countered with, “It was my idea. Not Blake’s and uh…I wanted to okay it with him. The parents of the athletes tend to get carried away.”
Ezra inclined his head. “Ah. Got it.”
I licked my lips and continued manically. “Obviously, they need time to prepare for their games and study for finals, so…I vote for sometime at the end of June. Send me your thoughts via email, Blake. Good evening, gentlemen. I must go. I have schoolwork of my own to attend to and an early class tomorrow. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ezra.”
“It’s just Ezra.” He stood and politely shook my hand. “Good to meet you too, man. Take care.”
“Whoa, Ash. Wait up.” Blake called from the kitchen.
Nope. I could not do that. I was a man on the edge. This was my first taste of what it was like to be with someone who couldn’t openly acknowledge that he was seeing me…and I didn’t like it. The pressure was intense. I couldn’t even imagine doing this every day. The stress would eat me alive.
I waved briskly as I opened the door, scanning the apartment once more to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.
And that was when I saw it.
Criminy cripes.
A tiny square blue wrapper lay on the rug between the coffee table and the sofa. I’d laughed at Blake’s habit of tearing condom wrappers with his teeth and dropping them wherever we happened to be in his hurry to sheathe himself. It was funny and so heady to be the focus of his desire. I was a stickler for tidiness everywhere but in the bedroom…or on the sofa. Sex was supposed to be messy and fun. And you could always clean up afterward.
But I’d missed a spot. And I couldn’t do anything about it. I was a walking truth time bomb. Immediate retreat was the only option.
I closed the door and pulled out my cell, typing as I scurried to my car.
Alert. Alert. Condom wrapper alert.
I gave the precise location, slid behind the wheel, and drove away like a thief in the night.