Date Me Like You Mean It

One of his dark brows arches. “How would you know?”

“I have ears.”

His smile widens, but I refuse to go weak in the knees.

“You’ve listened to me having sex?”

“Listened? The whole building listens! It’s not as if I strained my ears or anything. The girls all moan your name at the top of their lungs.”

I do a stellar reenactment, my voice all high-pitched and lusty.

“Oh, Aiden. Just like that. Yes. Yes. Yes!”

He’s grinning now, loving the show.

“You should be embarrassed,” I prompt, wondering where his confidence stems from. He seems to have an endless font of it.

“I am,” he says, smile unwavering.

I poke him in the stomach. “No you aren’t. You love that those girls call out your name like that, don’t you? You should feel bad for me having to listen.”

“You could have come over and told us to quiet down.”

“And risk getting a full monty? No thank you.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it all already.”

I’m doing a very good impression of a cardinal right now, all red and wide-eyed.

“Just the once! When you were changing!”

He shrugs. “So then we’re even.”

My jaw drops. “What do you mean we’re even?”

“We’ve both seen each other naked,” he replies, sounding like it’s the most casual announcement he’s ever made in his life. Oh, look, it’s Saturday, also I’ve seen your boobs.

I step toward him and fist the front of his shirt like I mean business. “When did you see me naked?!”

He tries to pry my fingers off him, but it’s no use, my embarrassment giving me superhuman strength.

“Will you knock it off? You’re going to stretch out the neckline.”

“Answer me!”

“It was a few months ago. All your towels were in the dryer after your shower and you had to run from your room to go grab one.”

Oh dear God. I remember that day. Aiden had gone to the grocery store. He wasn’t home. I’d finished taking a shower and reached to grab for a towel before realizing there wasn’t one hanging where it should have been. I had no choice. I had to do the drippy-wet tiptoe sprint through our condo to grab a fresh towel from the laundry room.

“But you weren’t home!” I say, my voice shrill.

“I was,” he says, not nearly as contrite as he should be. Where’s the remorse? The apologetic grimace?!

“I’d forgotten my wallet and had to come back to grab it,” he explains. “I found it on my nightstand and turned back just in time to see you run through the living room naked.”

I am a balloon floating away from earth. I don’t even feel my limbs as I release his shirt, turn on the spot, and walk slowly toward my room. With zombie-like slowness, I retrieve my suitcase from my closet and start tossing things into it. A blouse. A shoe. A sock. They all end up in the suitcase.

“What are you doing?” he asks, standing at the door of my room.

“Moving to Mexico,” I deadpan. “Can you get my sunscreen out of the hall closet? And my floppy hat too?”

He laughs then bends down to upend my suitcase so the contents fall back out onto the floor. A lacy bra ends up on the top of the pile, mocking me. If only you’d been wearing me that day, it says. I kick it.

“You’re not moving. C’mon, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You have a great body.”

“AIDEN!”

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to blind myself, or at least wipe this memory from my brain.

“Would it make you feel better if I hadn’t said anything?”

“No! Yes! I don’t know. Just…you shouldn’t be able to picture me naked.” I screw up my face, hating this topic of conversation. “You’ve forgotten the details, right?”

I glance over my shoulder to see him squinting in thought. A decent man would tell me yes. Not Aiden. He grins and taps the side of his head. “Unfortunately, this thing’s like a steel trap.”

I walk toward him, press my hands to his chest, and start to push him out of my room. It’s hard work—he’s a big guy.

“I remember everything,” he continues as I succeed in shoving him another few inches toward my door. “The light from the windows, the water dripping down your legs. You were flushed from your shower. Your skin was pink. The tips of your—”

“YOU HAVE TO STOP!”

If my hands were free, I’d stick them in my ears and sing LA LA LA LA as loudly as I could.

Once he’s at my door, I give him one final push then shut it in his face.

I hear his forehead drop against the wood.

He’s not leaving.

Instead, we both stand there, the door between us.

I strain my ears, trying to listen to his footsteps carrying him away.

When he finally speaks, I jump in surprise.

“Maddie?” he asks.

His teasing tone is gone. He sounds dead serious now.