Pretty Thing (Naughty Things 1)

But I can’t help wondering what would’ve happened to us if I had just let him look. Or even invited him into my room.

Would we have kissed? I was naked, so would he have touched me? Would we have gone all the way?

Surely not. And even in my dream I can’t get us that far around the bases. I didn’t date anyone until I moved away for chef’s school and even then, it was another year before I lost my virginity.

I was saving myself for you, Aiden.

That’s what I say in my dream.

But of course, that was just the teenage romantic in me. He wasn’t mine. He was never mine. Aiden always belonged to Kyle.

This thought wakes me up and I slip into that in-between world where you’re still in your dream thoughts but also hearing the real world around you.

Traffic down on the street. Someone shouting. A horn honks. A beeping truck backing up.

I roll over and realize I’m in bed alone.

“Shit,” I say, sitting up. “Aiden?” I call. No answer. I swing my legs out of bed, grab my robe off a chair, and slip it on as I wander down the hallway to the living room.

“Aiden?” I call again.

But my apartment isn’t that big. Just one bedroom and the front room, which acts as a living room, dining room, and kitchen all mashed up into the same space.

I glance at the bathroom door, hopeful.

But it’s open.

“Aiden?” I call again, realizing this is stupid. Because he’s gone.

Jesus Christ. “What the fuck?”

But then that inner voice—that rational one that only shows up when I’m making a big deal out of something I shouldn’t—says, Payback, Kali.

And it’s right. Because I did this to him one week ago exactly. I slipped out in the early morning and never said a word.

It’s just… I thought… we had…

But I was wrong. We didn’t come to any kind of agreement. We had sex, just like last time. Granted, this time we weren’t drunk, but—“Fuck!”

The door swings open and Aiden walks in. “Oh, good. You’re awake,” he says, tossing my keys into the little dish by the door.

“Where the hell did you go?”

He holds up a paper bag and a coffee holder with two coffees in it.

“Oh,” I say, relief flooding through my body.

He cocks his head at me and smiles. “You thought I bailed, didn’t you?”

“No,” I lie.

He sets the bag and coffee down on the table and walks towards me. Maybe struts is a better word, because he’s grinning and reaching for me as he approaches. He pulls me into an embrace, his hands caressing the smooth satin of my pale yellow robe, untying the waist as he laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, pushing his hands away. I’m not mad, not really. I have nothing to be mad about. He went and got us breakfast and coffee. But I’m irritated because, yes, I thought he bailed. I thought he was teaching me—

“Kali,” he says, leaning in to kiss my neck.

“What?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I sigh and lean into him a little. “I know,” I say. “It’s just… I had a moment, ya know.”

“Oh, I know,” he says, pulling back and brushing my hair away from my face. “I had that same moment last weekend.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I’m really sorry. I just… there was a lot of crap inside my head last weekend and—”

“You don’t have to apologize. We needed this week to just calm down and find a new normal, right?”

I let out a long exhale. “Right. So do you think we’re there?”

“Do you?”

I shake my head.

“Me either. But it’s OK. We’ve got time to sort it out.”

“I don’t want to play games, ya know? I don’t want to tease you, or you tease me.”

“I’ve never teased you,” he says.

“I know. But I was dreaming about that day you saw me getting out of the shower and—”

“Oh.” He laughs. “Yeah.” He runs his fingers through his hair, grinning. “You got me that day.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” I say.

“Oh, don’t be. I already told you. That was the highlight of my life up until last weekend. And this weekend trumps the last one by miles. You hungry?” he asks. “You have to be hungry. We didn’t even eat dinner last night. Just passed out.”

“Yeah,” I say, looking him over. He’s dressed in yesterday’s clothes, so his shirt is a little wrinkled, and it’s not tucked in so the smart-casual office style has been replaced with morning-after-fuck style, but I like it. He shaved again for the reading of the will but this morning there’s a shadow across his jaw that makes him ten times sexier than ever.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” I ask.

He cocks his head at me. “My answer is yes. We can take a shower and have a little fun. But the coffee’s getting cold, so…” He walks over, grabs the coffee and bag of food, and then sits on the couch. “Sit with me and let’s eat, and talk, and forget about everything but the minute we’re in right now.”