His burning sincerity, his longing, is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what I don't grasp. Why me Why not one of the fifteenOh no... Will that be me - a number?
Sixteen of many?
"What happened to the fifteen?" I blurt.
He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head.
"Various things, but it boils down to," he pauses, struggling to find the words I think.
"Incompatibility." He shrugs.
"And you think that I might be compatible with you?"
"Yes."
"So you're not seeing any of them anymore?"
"No, Anastasia, I'm not. I am monogamous in my relationships."
Oh... this is news.
"I see."
"Do the research, Anastasia."
I put my knife and fork down. I cannot eat any more.
"That's itThat's all you're going to eat?"
I nod. He scowls at me but chooses not to say anything. I breathe a small sigh of relief.
My stomach is churning with all this new information, and I'm feeling a little lightheaded from the wine. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. He must work out to stay in such great shape. The memory of the way his PJ's hung from his hips comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfortably. He glances up at me, and I blush.
"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right at this moment," he murmurs.
I blush further.
He smiles a wicked smile at me.
"I can guess," he teases softly.
"I'm glad you can't read my mind."
"Your mind, no, Anastasia, but your body - that I've got to know quite well since yesterday." His voice is suggestive. How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the nextHe's so mercurial... It's hard to keep up.
He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he's paid, he stands and holds out his hand.
"Come." Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the car. This contact, flesh to flesh, it's what is so unexpected from him, normal, intimate. I can't reconcile this ordinary, tender gesture with what he wants to do in that room... The Red Room of Pain.
We are quiet on the drive from Olympia to Vancouver, both lost in our own thoughts.
When he parks outside my apartment, it's five in the evening. The lights are on - Kate is at home. Packing, no doubt, unless Elliot is still there. He switches off the engine, and I realize I'm going to have to leave him.
"Do you want to come in?" I ask. I don't want him to go. I want to prolong our time together.
"No. I have work to do," he says simply, gazing at me, his expression unfathomable.
I stare down at my hands, as I knot my fingers together. Suddenly I feel emotional.
He's leaving. Reaching over, he takes one of my hands and slowly pulls it to his mouth, tenderly kissing the back of my hand, such an old fashioned, sweet gesture. My heart leaps into my mouth.
"Thank you for this weekend, Anastasia. It's been... the best. WednesdayI'll pick you up from work, from wherever?" he says softly.
"Wednesday," I whisper.
He kisses my hand again and places it back in my lap. He climbs out, comes round to my side, and opens the passenger door. Why do I feel suddenly bereftA lump forms in my throat. I must not let him see me like this. Fixing a smile on my face, I clamber out of the car and head up the path, knowing I have to face Kate, dreading facing Kate. I turn and gaze at him midway. Chin up Steele, I chide myself.
"Oh... by the way, I'm wearing your underwear." I give him a small smile and pull up the waistband of the boxer briefs I'm wearing so he can see. Christian's mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air. YES! My inner goddess is thrilled.
Kate is in the living area packing up her books into crates.
"You're back. Where's ChristianHow are you?" Her voice is fevered, anxious, and she bounds up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I've even said hello.
Crap... I have to deal with Kate's persistence and tenacity, and I'm in possession of a legal signed document saying I can't talk. It's not a healthy mix.
"Well how was itI couldn't stop thinking about you, after Elliot left, that is." She grins mischievously.
I can't help but smile at her concern and her burning curiosity, but suddenly I feel shy.
I blush. It was very private. All of it. Seeing and knowing what Christian has to hide. But I have to give her some details, because she won't leave me alone until I do.
"It was good, Kate. Very good, I think," I say quietly, trying to hide my embarrassed tell-all smile.
"You think?"
"I've got nothing to compare it to, do I?" I shrug apologetically.
"Did he make you come?"
Holy crap. She's so blunt. I go scarlet.
"Yes," I mumble, exasperated.
Kate pulls me to the couch and we sit. She clasps my hands.
"That is good." Kate looks at me in disbelief. "It was your first time. Wow, Christian must really know what he's doing."
Oh Kate, if only you knew.
"My first time was horrid," she continues, making a sad comedy face.
"Oh?" This has me interested, something she's never divulged before.
"Yes, Steve Paton. High school, dickless jock." She shudders. "He was rough. I wasn't ready. We were both drunk. You know - typical teenage post-prom disaster. Ugh
- it took me months before I decided to have another go. And not with him, the gutless wonder. I was too young. You were right to wait."
"Kate, that sounds awful."