Push (9 page)

He stands up and tells me to go bend over the bed. I rest my face against the mattress, my legs are apart, and once again, I am ass up in my heels. Then he is inside me, lithe and swift. In and out. His hands latch on to my waist, and he pulls me towards him in tempo with his own movement. I cling to the covers, trying to hold myself in place, trying to keep a tangible grip on reality. I am almost there...again. He slides one hand around my hip and down between my legs. Over and over his fingers move in those small circles while he is pushing into me. I am undone. Unfurling like a motherfucking flag on the Fourth of July.

“Fuck, Emma,” he says as my body shudders with satisfaction. His voice sounds taut and throaty.

When my body calms, I crawl forward on the bed, releasing him from inside me, and turn around to face him. I kneel, looking at him and thinking about how powerful he makes me feel. About how much confidence his touch gives me. I tug him forward by his shoulders and kiss him hard. I reach down and latch on to him, stroking him firmly. He is slippery, and my hand glides back and forth, over and over, while we kiss. Part of me wants to play his game, to taunt him as he taunted me, but I can’t. I want to make him come. I want to make him happy. I want to show him the power he gives me. In a second I am on the floor, kneeling in front of him with my back against the bed. I take him into my mouth; he is sweet because of me. I suck him and stroke him and he grips the back of my head, holding me there, on him. Around him.

“Emma,” he says again, and I know he is telling me that he is ready. But I don’t stop, I don’t move away. I keep my mouth on him, and he pushes himself into me deeper, nearly too far. He exhales harshly and stiffens.

The parade is over. And I am smiling inside.

He stands in front of me for a few minutes, breathing heavily. I am still kneeling on the floor, but I am sitting on my haunches now, my eyes aimed at the floor. Then I feel his hand on my face. It is cold against my hot skin. I press my cheek into it and look up at him. His face looks serious, somber even. I wonder what he is thinking.

“Why so serious?” I ask with a smile, not sure I want to know the answer.

“You know what kills me, Emma?” Uh-oh.

“What?”

“Knowing that you’ve done this before. With someone else.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t with anyone that mattered, that’s for sure.” And that is the truth. No one has ever made me feel this way before, and I sure-as-shit have never
wanted
someone like this before. I’m not telling him that, though, not yet anyway. We haven’t even known each other a week, for Christ’s sake.

“And do I?”

I smile up at him. That is all I am giving him—and it is probably too much—but it makes him grin a little, and because of it, I know that I matter, too.

“Well, then,” he says, “let’s go. I still have something I want to show you.” Oh, yes. That.

* * *

Twenty minutes later we pull into a gravel parking lot off the side of the road. It is not somewhere I have been before, but I haven’t lived here very long, so, frankly, there are lots of places I have never been. I saw the entrance sign to Addison Park a mile or so ago, and I am now aware that it is the largest of the county’s parks. When we pull into the lot, I begin to wonder if he is taking me somewhere to teach me how to use the gun. It’s nearly dark outside, though, and I can’t imagine myself shooting the gun in the light, let alone in the dark.

We get out of the car, and David pops the trunk. He grabs a cooler and a pair of flashlights, and he heads down a small gravel path on the side of the parking lot. He hands me one of the flashlights on his way.

“David,” I say, “you do know that I’m wearing heels, right?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Wait a sec.” He puts down the cooler, walks back to the car, and pops the trunk open again. Out of it he pulls a pair of shit kickers and hands them to me. “Here, you can wear these.” Really?

Since I don’t want to ruin my favorite shoes, I dutifully take them off and toss them into the trunk. The boots are way too big, and I stumble along the trail behind him, my flashlight wavering through the dark. He doesn’t walk for long, though, thank goodness, and about fifteen minutes later, he stops. We are at the tree line now, and there is a pile of huge rocks next to us. He clambers up the rocks and reaches down to help me do the same. It’s tough going in my skirt, but, since I know no one else is here, I hike it up so my legs can stretch farther. I wish it were light enough for me to see his face.

When we get to the top of the rock pile, he stops. And once I am no longer worried about tripping over my own feet, I raise my head and draw in a quick breath. There is just enough light left for me to see the drop-off in front of us. The ledge is pretty sheer, and it is definitely not a place where I want to lose my balance. But out in front, below the cliff, stretches the entire city. The grid of the streets is laid out in lights. There are barges on the river, cars cruising the roads, and buildings of all shapes and sizes. From here, the city looks so handsome, so active. I love it, and I am grateful to David for showing it to me.

“Wow. It’s beautiful. Really. I had no idea.” I sit on the rock, tucking my legs up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. David follows suit, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He puts his flashlight down and opens the cooler. God, I hope there is food in there. Despite my want of a sandwich, he hands me a newly opened beer, and I swallow. It is cold and fresh, but it’s no ham on rye. Still, I drink it in the darkness, enjoying the quiet view.

“David, I need to know something,” I finally say. “It’s been bothering me since I met you, so I’m just going to ask.”

“What?” he says. “Ask whatever you want.”

I take a long, dramatic pause and breathe in deeply, pretending to think hard. “What’s your last name?”

He throws his head back and lets loose a gigantic laugh. It’s the first time I’ve heard anything more than a soft chuckle from him. It is unabashed, lucid laughter. And it sounds at once both heavenly and demonic. I can’t help but laugh myself, and soon we are immersed in a fit of laughter, together. Both of our flashlights are off now, so I can’t see him, but I imagine what his face looks like wearing a full-blown smile.

I wipe the tears off my eyes, and in a few minutes we both wind down.

“Calgaro, Emma. My last name is Calgaro.” As he says it, he scoots his bottom over next to mine and wraps his arm around my shoulder. It’s starting to get chilly now, and I am thankful for his closeness. We sit in silence and drink another beer. I don’t want to ask him anything else. I don’t really want to know anything else about him. And I don’t want him to ask me any questions either. Because I don’t want to tell him about me.

Eventually he lies back on the rock, resting his hands behind his head. I lie back, too, putting my head into the crook of his underarm. His body is warm, so I push myself a little closer to him and line my torso and legs up snugly with his. A few minutes pass, and I can’t help myself. My stomach is growling.

“Do you have a fucking sandwich in there or not?”

I can tell he is thinking about my question. “Shit, Emma. You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“Not since lunch.”

“Damn it. I’m sorry. I ate downtown before I met you, so it wasn’t even on my radar. Come on, let’s go.” He flips on his flashlight, stands and extends his hand to help me up. We walk back down the trail and get into the car.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

“Home,” I say. “I want to make us something in my fine-ass kitchen. But you should know that this time I will not let you off the hook. Tomorrow morning I
will
wake up with you in my bed.”

He starts the engine, backs out of the lot, and floors it all the way home.

Chapter Fifteen

It is ten-thirty, and we are eating pasta alfredo at my little table and discussing all the things I need to see in the city. David tells me about his favorite Thai restaurant, the best mountain-biking trails, the bars he hits with his friends on the weekends, and the shooting range he would like to take me to. His voice comes alive as he is talking. His enthusiasm for the city is clear. I know he has lived in at least two other states, but he tells me that this is the place he’d like to stay. This is where he has been the happiest, he says, and it is only getting better. I’d like to assume that the last part is in reference to me.

When we are finished eating, we carry everything into the kitchen, and he scrapes the plates, hands them to me, and I put them into the dishwasher. When I am finished, I turn around and look at him, leaning my back against the counter’s edge.

“So, where did you live before you moved here?” he asks. Okay, here we go. Here come the questions. Damn it.

“Well, I lived in a shitty little apartment in Chicago for a year, and before that, I was in college at Case Western Reserve in Cleveland.”

“Chicago, huh? Why were you there?” I want to cut off the questions somehow.

“I was working as an intern at an engineering firm.” I walk out of the kitchen, past him, and head straight down the hallway. He follows me to the bedroom and leans on the doorjamb with his arms crossed. I open a drawer and pull out my boy-shorts pajamas while I am talking. “I thought the internship might lead to a permanent position, but it wasn’t really a company I wanted to be with for the long haul. So, I started looking for another job and found this one. I was actually born here, while my dad was finishing his basic training. We moved away when I was just a baby, but I still feel a connection.”

“A connection to what?” he asks sweetly.

“To my mom and dad, I guess.” And I do. Even though a half-day’s drive isn’t nearly as far away from Michael as I’d like to be, I feel as if I belong here.

Before he can ask another question, I start unbuttoning my shirt. I know he is watching me, but I don’t look up. I take my shirt off, unzip my skirt, and slide it down my legs. I am barefoot because I left the shit kickers on the floor of his car, and my heels are sitting by the front door. All I am wearing now are my undies and cami. I grab a ponytail holder from my nightstand and casually gather my hair up. I take off my earrings and necklace and put them into my jewelry box. Then I head for the bathroom. I am very aware that I have to pass David, and when I look up at him on my way to the door, I can see that he is itching to touch me. Instead, one arm hangs at his side and the fingers of his other hand touch his lower lip.

“Excuse me,” I say as I brush past him, “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Don’t be long,” he says.

I am in the bathroom now, turning toward him, ready to close the door. “Why not? Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Emma,” he says with a mouthful of boyish charm.

* * *

My alarm sounds, and I lean over quickly to shut it off, hoping to catch it before it wakes David up. But when I turn back over, he is propped up on his elbow, his eyebrows raised.

“How long were you going to let that damn thing buzz?” he asks.

“What? It was only going off for a few seconds.”

“Uh, no. It was going off for like ten minutes. I was wondering if it was going to wake you at all.”

“Oh. I guess maybe I’d better set it to the radio from now on and tune it to the death metal station you and your friends were listening to the other night.”

“That wasn’t the death metal station; it was a friend’s band.”

“Really? You have a friend in a band? Do they play around here? Will you take me?” I sound way too enthusiastic for this early in the morning.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. And, yes,” he says, pretending to count on his fingers. “Maybe this weekend. If they have a gig. And if you don’t have any other plans.”

“Well, I have to check with all my friends to make sure they haven’t already made plans for me.” I look up as if I am concentrating on something. “Oh, yeah...right. I don’t really have any friends, so I’m pretty sure I’m clear.”

“You don’t have any friends?” He looks surprised. “No one from college or high school you keep in touch with?”

“Not unless you want me to go out with the guys from work.” David does not look pleased with my little jab. “And, the only person I really keep in touch with is my high school friend, Susan. She lives in London now, so she’s out, too.”

“So, there are no ex-boyfriends I need to know about?” he says dryly.

“Ahhhh,” I say with a nod of my head. “None worth worrying about, that’s for sure. Trust me. It seems that the world is full of shitty-ass boyfriends.”

“Shitty-ass?” Damn, he looks hot in the morning.

“I’ll tell you all the shitty-ass things boyfriends are capable of sometime when I’m not going to be late for work.” I climb out of bed and start to get my clothes together.

“Good, cause I want to know all the things I should avoid doing.”
What?
Is he intimating that he wants to be my boyfriend? I would not have put the words “boyfriend” and “David” together in a sentence...ever. “Lover” and “David,” maybe. “Fuck Buddy” and “David,” for sure. “Boyfriend,” though—he hardly seems the type.

“Yeah, well, it’s a pretty long list.” I hang my skirt and blouse on the doorknob, grab a new pair of panties and a cami, and head out the door to the bathroom.

“Will you at least tell me one? Just to get me started.”

“Started on what?” I ask from the bathroom.

“Started on being your boyfriend.” Jesus H. Christ! Seriously?

“You’re a long way from that,” I say with all the sass I can muster. “But, just to get the ball rolling, I’ll tell you that they’re never covetous enough.” I smile to myself as I say it.

“Well, no problem there,” he says. “Too covetous is more likely to be the issue.”

“I already told you there is no such thing, not when it comes to a girlfriend, at any rate.”

“But you aren’t my girlfriend. You’re a long way from that.” Ha. Ha. Ha.

I turn the shower on, so I won’t be able to hear what he says next, but before I get in, I say, “Yeah, well, it counts for fuck buddies, too.”

I undress and climb into the shower. I bend my head back under the stream of water and begin to lather the shampoo. A few moments later, David opens the shower curtain.

“Hi,” he says, his eyes roaming playfully over me.

“Hi back.” I am happy to see that he is completely dressed. That means he is less likely to get in with me and make me even more late for work than I already am.

“If we go see my friend’s band this weekend, is that how you want me to introduce you? As my fuck buddy?” he asks.

“Introduce me however you’d like. But, I thought you weren’t going to introduce me to any of your friends anyway.”

“Those were my poker friends, Emma. And, no, I am not going to introduce you to them. Not on purpose anyway. We already got a taste of what will happen if I do. But these guys are a whole different group of friends. These guys are musicians, and I’m not worried about any of them trying to get into your pants.”

“Aren’t you worried they’ll try to win my heart with a song?”

“The kind of music they make isn’t going to win any hearts, so, no, I am not worried about that. You’ll like them, though—as people, I mean. They are a hell of a lot of fun.”

“Good, ’cause I could use some fun,” I say with a coy smile. “Now, get out, so I can finish getting ready for work.” I grab the curtain and pull it closed briskly.

“You mean you don’t want me to come in there with you?” he asks.

“Not unless you want a face full of fist. I’m already late. Trust me, if you try and make a move on me this morning, the outcome is not going to be nearly as fantastic as it was yesterday.”

“And fantastic it was,” he says under his breath as he leaves the bathroom. I don’t know if he intended for me to hear it or not.

I finish my shower, towel off, put on my underwear and makeup, and dry my hair. When I step out of the bathroom, I can smell that he has made coffee. I dress and put on some jewelry and shoes and head out to the kitchen. David is sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and his keys dangling from his index finger.

“Let’s go,” he says. “I’ll drive you.”

“That’s sweet, really, but I’m okay with taking the bus. You don’t have to drive me.”

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed. “I was kind of hoping maybe you could tell me more things on the shitty-ass boyfriend list during our ride.”

“Item number two—shitty-ass boyfriends always want to talk while they’re driving, and I prefer to ride in silence.”

“I won’t say a word,” he says with a grin. “Scout’s honor.”

“Good. Let’s go. And thanks.”

* * *

Matt is the same as yesterday. I thought that his encounter with David might make him a little more standoffish with me, but that is clearly not the case. I am thankful, though, that he isn’t asking me a lot of questions about David. In fact, he doesn’t bring him up at all. Instead, he is rattling off assorted things about himself; it’s as if he is filling in an old friend he hasn’t seen for years. I just let him go and escape into my own thoughts whenever I need a break from his fucking drivel. At one point in the morning, I suggest we separate for a few hours after lunch so we can each work on our own designs. I want to bow down and thank him when he agrees to it. We make plans to connect again at three-thirty.

When lunchtime arrives, I slip away to the cafeteria. I check my cell, and sure enough, there is a message from David. It came in around eleven.

Hi.

Hi back.

They r playing Friday night at The Trash Bin.

I’m in.

Sweet.

I’m guessing that’s a bar?

It’s a club.

What kind of club?

You’ll see.

I’m Googling it.

Go ahead. You won’t find it, though.

Intriguing. Do I have to wear a cat suit or something?

Yes.

Ooookkkkkaaaayyyyyy....

U good to take the bus this afternoon?

What’s with the complete change of subject?

Yes. I was expecting to take it.

Ok. Friday at 7:00? Wanna grab some eats first?

Sure.

Out with friends tonight. Just in case u care.

Ok.

C u Friday.

Bye.

Bye back.

About five minutes pass, and my phone pings again. I am in line for a deli sandwich.

Fantastic was the right word, by the way.

Huh?

Your description of last night. At my place.

Glad we agree.

I’ve never had it so fantastic.

Fuck u.

I’m being serious.

Really?

Yes. U r one exceptional fuck buddy, Emma.

Years of experience.

Don’t go there.

Feeling covetous?

U have no idea.

Atta boy.

My phone is silent again for several minutes while I pick out and pay for my sandwich. I am walking to a table in the back of the cafeteria to sit with Matt and a few other guys when it pings yet again. I put my tray down on the table, pull my phone from my pocket, and slide it open.

Tell me u aren’t having lunch with the douche bag u were talking to last night.

I could. But it would b a lie.

I hate him.

U don’t even know him.

I don’t have to.

Well, if it makes u feel better, I hate him too.

Then why r u having lunch with him?

Item number 3: Shitty-ass boyfriends are always too quick to point out the obvious.

Just sayin’.

I know I am wearing a stupid fucking smile, and when I slide my phone closed and look up, Matt says, “I want some of whatever Emma’s smoking.” They all chuckle and look at me in expectation. As if they want me to tell them why the hell I am smiling. As if they want to know what is so goddamned funny.

“You couldn’t handle what I’m smoking, Matt,” I say with a knowing smirk.