Page 39 of Missed Communication
“There is no way you are going to eat all of that.”
“I’m hotel-living the rest of the week and the room only has a small fridge and a microwave. Any leftovers will be dinner tomorrow.”
“You sound just like Olivia. Oh! The hotel. No, you’re not staying there,” she insists matter-of-factly.
“Hate to break it to you, but yes I am.”
Aubrey glances around, then keeps her voice low as she demands, “Stay with me.”
“Inviting me to move in on our second date? Very bold of you.”
“I promise I’m not,” she laughs. “I have a two-bedroom apartment close by. If you’re more comfortable, you could stay in the spare room, and you’d have access to my kitchen until your movers arrive.”
“Do you honestly believe that I would sleep anywhere other than in your bed with you if I’m there?”
After squeezing her lemon into the iced tea, she takes an excruciatingly long sip, speaking into her glass, “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes, it would. You expect me to stay with you this week, falling asleep with you in my arms after I make you come so many times you’ve lost count, waking you up with my face between your thighs each morning while you moan my name,thenbe able to sleep alone Friday night? Or is that your big plan? To make me so addicted to you that I never leave?”
“I just don’t want you to stay in some hotel.” She waves her hand dismissively. “You deserve better. Speaking strictly from a professional perspective, of course, I need you well-rested. Can’t be well-rested while sleeping on a hard hotel mattress, right?”
“Why do I think you’re just hung up on the orgasms and tongue-lashing?”
Aubrey sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to mask her smile. “Nope. It’s strictly a professionally selfish offer. Olivia would agree.”
“I don’t know her that well, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person who would condone our cohabitation, even if it was for a week.”
“It won’t even be a full week,” she reminds me with a faux exasperated sigh. “Think of it this way, you’ll be helping to limit energy consumption.”
“Just say you want me in your bed, and I’ll consider it.”
After she takes her time to pretend she’s contemplating her options, she admits, “I want you in my bed.”
“Playing house is a little dangerous, don’t you think?”
“It’s not playing house, we’ll be…roommates.”
Walter, the perfect distraction that he is, drops off our appetizer, giving me a moment to think. Unfortunately for me, he only adds hand-grated parmesan to the fries before rushing off. When we ordered them, I assumed they would be potato fries with minced or sliced mushrooms as more of a garnish. Instead, they’re large slices of portobello that are battered and fried. I’ve never been a huge fan of mushrooms, but I’m always willing to try something once. We each take one, dipping it into what appears to be a garlic sauce, thinner than aioli. She lifts hers in a cheers and we tap them together before taking a bite. I’m pleasantly surprised by the flaky texture of the batter and how the mushroom flavor isn’t overwhelming.
Aubrey lets out a soft moan, which unfortunately has my dick’s attention. No matter how much I want to, staying with her wouldbe a mistake. Next week we’ll be traveling down to Bakersfield by train, then flying to San Diego. It won’t be like the summit in a large hotel with hundreds of guests where we could easily sneak away. I won’t be able to flirt with her, touch her, kiss her… If this is going to be our dynamic for the foreseeable future, I’m not sure I’m okay with it long-term.
I need a chance to think this through. “I’ll be right back.”
Making my way to the restroom, I recount our time together in Ottawa. When we weren’t attending meetings, we always found each other. Sometimes for coffee, sometimes for dinner, but I hated how every time I saw her, all I wanted to do was touch her. It wasn’t even sexual. The need to have her near me was unbearable. Quitting a job on my first day would be reckless, but how the hell am I supposed to work with her when I want her like this?
Once in the restroom, I brace myself on the counter, staring at my reflection. The move to California was supposed to be so I could meet my father, not chase after a woman. We should take this slow if we want it to last. I splash water on my face, then dry my hands and pat the excess water from my cheeks.
As I’m walking out, I pass by several tables, and a woman stops me. “Excuse me, could I get another martini?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t work here.”
Her gaze drops down to my shirt, then back up to my face. “Could you find my server then?”
“I’m actually here having dinner with someone and don’t work here. I’m sure they’ll be by soon.”
She doesn’t apologize as I return to the table. As I take a seat, Aubrey asks, “What was that about?”
“Nothing. She just needed another martini.”
