Page 17 of Engineering a Love Story

Wind howls up the street and finds us, even tucked in this nook by the hotel door. Seth motions with his head toward the building above us. “You have a room here?” He tucks a swath of hair behind my ear. “You’re cold. Maybe you should go up to it.”

I lean forward and breathe him in. No part of me wants to go to my room alone. I wrestle with all the reasons that taking Seth with me is a bad idea, but then I remember I’m flying home in half a dozen hours. His body, so warm against mine, feels like a gift. I’m not letting go now.

“You could come up?” I breathe against the muscles of his neck.

Seth makes a surprised humming sound, as if this is an unexpected offer, but I hear the smile in his voice and know he’s only pretending to ponder. I grip his fingers and pull open the hotel’s foggy glass door, tugging him behind me.

Just inside the dim lobby, I have a quick flash of hesitation. Despite my frantic behavior at The Symp, I don’t really have any idea how encounters like this go. And I’m pretty sure Seth does.

“Though, it’s just.” I rest my palm against his as we move to the elevator. “I’m maybe not prepared for the full deal.” This comes out in a rush and I’m embarrassed as soon as I say it. I probably don’t even mean it. I hear his soft chuckle.

In the elevator, we’re quiet, our hands pressed together. When I click open the door to my room, its cold musty smell crawls out. I hit the switch, and light floods the damp room, making its worn navy carpet and maroon bedspread look even worse than when I left a few hours ago. I flick the lights back off.

Seth moves past me and finds a desk lamp, which he angles toward the wall. I watch as he casually kicks off his shoes.

“Can I have one of these waters?” He reaches for one in a row of bottles lined on the desk. “Though this does say they cost five dollars. Which is ridiculous.” I gift him the water with a wave of my hand, though he’s already twisted off its cap. After glugging half a bottle’s contents, he comes to where I’m still hesitating inside the door. With the half-full bottle in one hand, he leans forward and kisses near my left ear.

“We don’t have to pursue … the full deal, as you put it.” His words land softly on my cheek. “I was enjoying what was happening downstairs. We can do more of that.” The plastic in his hand crackles as he gestures toward the bed. “Or we can talk. Sleep. Drink these five-dollar waters.” He raises the bottle again, drains it, and crumples it with both hands. “Or I can go. Seriously. It’s not a problem. I get this is a bumpy time for you.”

I don’t want Seth to go. Not at all. I go on my toes and find his lips, then lead him to the bed, though as soon as we’re sitting on it, I insist we remove the shiny bedspread.

“What are you doing in this place?” Seth asks as we meet again on the bed.

“I don’t know what you mean. This is my favorite spot.” And this feels especially true as we settle together and pull at pieces of our clothing, hands and mouths roaming. I’m impatient, anxious to touch Seth’s skin, which is startlingly warm when we were just so cold outside. He’s smooth, almost velvety, reminding me briefly of the silk upholstery of the chairs in my dining room, but that’s not anything I want to think of right now. I steer my mind away, determined to stay in this moment and wring every drop of pleasure from it. Being here with Seth, taking off my clothes, watching him remove his—the intensity of it makes my insides churn in way that’s almost uncomfortable.

“These sheets. Did you request these special?” Seth’s words land on my bare shoulder. He’s right to make fun of the sheets, which are somehow both worn and scratchy. I didn’t notice their natty pills on my previous nights in this room, but now my nerve endings are alive and I feel every nub. “Why is it you’re here in Fisherman’s Wharf again?”

I’m laughing, even as I fight the mad flapping in my stomach and my strong desire to run my hands all over him. “I like wax museums.”

All that wind loosened his curls, and they brush against my ribcage as he nods. “Hmmm … everyone does.”

I’m less able to joke after Seth removes my slacks. When he runs a hand along my back and slowly pulls my briefs down my thighs, the exposure is exquisite. I close my eyes and sink into the sensation of his hands, but then I open them again because I don’t want to miss this. I watch him, the dark curls on his chest, the lines of his chin, that warm glow of his eyes, which he has pinned on me. Impossibly, he’s more attractive with every moment, and I’m astounded I ever laid eyes on him for even a second and didn’t find him a gorgeous creature. I’m wild with the unfamiliar feeling of desiring something and simply taking it.

I breathe against Seth’s neck and suggest that the full deal might be the right course after all. “If you’re agreeable.” I’m surprised by the even strength of my voice.

Seth slowly circles my nipple with his tongue and the sensation zips past my belly button. “I most definitely agree. Though I don’t have any protection.”

I lift my head. “That’s … not what I expected.”

“I can’t say this is how I saw this evening turning out.” He runs a hand across my abdomen.

“But don’t you … no condom in your wallet?”

His brow crinkles. “I don’t carry a condom in my wallet. What about you? Nothing over there?” He angles his head toward my laptop and the mess of papers on the hotel desk.

I let my head fall back against the pillow, laughing again.

We move forward, forgoing the technical definition of sex, but we don’t suffer. Seth is serious now, all our silliness evaporated. He watches me with intensity, paying such careful attention to this—to me—that I find myself shuddering against his fingers. I’m lit up, deliciously alive, and grateful to stop thinking entirely, at least for a little while.

Exhausted, eventually, we lie together, my back to him, his arm around me, and he falls asleep almost instantly. Briefly, I wonder what it will be like returning home, knowing I’ve torn a final rip in whatever is there. But I don’t feel guilty. How could I regret anything that felt as good as that just did?

Mostly, lying there with my stomach still undulating from the out-of-bounds furor of it all, I wish Seth would wake and touch me again. But I let him sleep.

***

When the phone rings with my wake-up call a couple of hours later, I silence it and lie still for a moment, taking a few final breaths of him. Then I leave the bed. I’m not sure how things like this work, but slipping out seems like the right approach.

After using the bathroom, I leave the light on over the sink and creep about the room in semi-darkness, gathering my clothes and pulling on jeans and a t-shirt.