I suppose people are like ice-cream sundaes; you keep digging down through the layers, discovering new ingredients as you go.
I wonder what he thinks of my tiny apartment and the relatively simple surroundings I call home. It’s hard to view things through the eyes of someone else, particularly when you don’t know much about their background. I know Aaron has money, and I know a lot of women are motivated by money. I’m not saying that financial security isn’t something I wanted in my life. I mean, who doesn’t want to have the options that money can buy?
But I’ve seen what the pursuit of money can do to people, and the outcomes aren’t always pleasant. My mother’s family was wealthy but lost it all during a recession, and her father was never the same.
The most important mission in my life is to find real love, as corny as that might sound. I want the kind of connection that will hold two people together through even the most difficult of situations. I want to live with love, not die with money, and I feel sad for Aaron that he seems so closed off to what I consider most valuable.
When breakfast is finished, I take our dirty dishes to the kitchen, and he offers to dry while I wash. I accept only because I want to see him wielding a cloth; mine are floral, which only adds to my amusement.
As I pack everything away, Aaron returns to the lounge, and I can hear him unzipping his suitcase. When I’m done, I find him at my table with an open laptop. “I grabbed your Wi-Fi code from your router,” he says, typing away, looking and sounding like the true professional he is.
I sit down on the sofa and pick up my book from the coffee table, settling in for some quiet time, glancing at Aaron from the corner of my eye. It’s strangely comfortable to rest in his presence and oddly companionable, considering how little we know of each other. His fingers move over the keyboard furiously, and his expression is one of utter concentration, but the next time I look, I find him glancing at me. We smile, embarrassed to have been caught out. After about half an hour, he clicks shut the lid of his computer and exhales.
“That’s it for today,” he says, twisting on the chair so that his legs are out from under the table.
“Okay,” I say. “What do you want to do now?”
Aaron’s eyes flick to mine, sparkling with delicious intent. “You shouldn’t ask questions like that, Nicole. You might not like the answer…or maybe you’ll like the answer but not want to admit it to yourself.” He raises his eyebrows, and those sparkly green eyes send heat to parts that should know better.
“You told me it ‘always comes back to fucking,’ so I guess I should know what to expect,” I say.
Aaron laughs and leans forward in his seat, resting his forearms on his thighs and gazing at me with soft eyes.
“Hearing my own filthy words coming out of your pretty mouth…mmm…I like hearing you talk dirty. But anyway, don’t worry your pretty head about the ‘fucking’. I have a rule not to dip in the same hole three times, so you’re safe with me.”
“You have a rule?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Offensiveness and ridiculousness aside – I’m getting used to his crudeness – I’m baffled as to why he’d restrict himself in that way.
“Yes…it keeps everyone happy in the long run.”
“Does it?”
Aaron shrugs. “No strings, no hard feelings, no inadvertent attachments.” I watch as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly seeing some vulnerability in him that I hadn’t picked up on before. Why else would he keep to such a restrictive guideline if it wasn’t to protect his own heart?
“Just fucking?”
“I think I’ve been a bad influence on your mouth,” he says, a transparent attempt to change the subject.
“Wow.” I stand up with the sudden urge to provoke him. “So, I guess if I just slipped these clothes off right here and decided to spend the rest of the afternoon naked, you wouldn’t be tempted for a ‘third dip’?” I slide the strap of my top over my shoulder in a challenge.
“I’d be tempted,” he says gruffly, “But that doesn’t mean I would go through with it.”
I can’t believe he’d be able to resist, but his firmness shows me exactly how important his rule is to him. It makes me feel sad for us both that we’ve been bruised along the way and are allowing those past negative experiences to have such a significant impact on our lives.
“Well,” I say, suddenly wanting to do something entertaining to stamp on all the negative bullshit. “I think we need to do something fun.”
“What are you thinking?”