I threw my head back and laughed. And he laughed. The bed shook with our laughter. And when I glanced at him I saw his eyes were on my neck, but he was still laughing.
“Sure.” I wiped tears of hilarity from the corners of my eyes. “Give it a go. See if you can get out of a speeding ticket by gesturing to your crotch.”
“Excuse me, Madame Police Officer, so you’re saying the thrust—” he tilted his hips forward just slightly, using a silly voice, his index finger skimmed along the zipper of his pants, “—of the issue was my speed?”
I trailed my fingertips along the edge of my bra beneath my shirt. “Thank you for keeping me abreast of the situation,” I said, playing along.
Matt’s eyes flickered to where my hand moved and he blinked.
His smile wavered.
Neither of us spoke, but it took me a moment to hear the silence, and then it was oddly deafening. His eyes were still on my chest and I held my breath.
Was this it?
Would this be the moment?
Would he . . . do something? Make a move?
The tension was almost unbearable—almost—and I prepared myself for something.
But then he blinked away, his attention moving to someplace behind me. “You’re right,” he said, a new edge in his voice, his earlier smile present but somehow different.
“I’m right?” I asked breathlessly, my hopes singularly focused on the next words out of his mouth.
“Yeah. Boobs are amazing.” He cleared his throat, shifting on the bed. “Should we move into a new position?”
Wait . . . what just happened?
“Oh, sure.” I lowered my eyes to the comforter, careful to keep the perplexed disappointment from his sight and from my tone.
I reached for the book blindly, flipping it to the next page and forcing myself to study it. He’d had a perfect in, a perfect opportunity to make a move.
And he didn’t.
I wondered briefly if I smelled, and turned away so I could take a surreptitious sniff of my armpit.
For the record, I smelled great.
The next position called for his head to rest on my lap. Doubting myself, I decided to skip the position. Had I completely misread his behavior over the last few weeks? Did he still want our relationship to be strictly platonic?
I continued flipping until I found one that looked benign so I could get my head on straight.
“Here’s one. We both just lie next to each other and hold hands.” I showed him the picture.
He nodded, his face devoid of expression, and lay adjacent to me on the bed. Our heads were on the pillows and we rested next to each other, not touching except holding hands.
“Back to your ex. He saw the article and flipped out finally?” His tone, like his features, felt reserved.
My swimming, simmering, see-sawing emotions had me gulping a few large breaths. I couldn’t read him, and I couldn’t decipher what was happening in my mind and heart. He was happy to hang with me, but not wanting anything more.
. . . Right?
Right. Okay. Fine.
I swallowed my disappointment and endeavored to recalibrate my expectations for the evening. Clearly, I was being unfair, trying to assign feelings to him that were non-existent.
These feelings are one-sided. Your-sided. Not his-sided.
“Marie?”
“Um.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to recall his question and keep the tightness out of my tone. “He didn’t flip out, not quite. I’d told him what the assignment was, and he said he was fine with it. I told him I didn’t have to write the article, but he said he wanted me to do it. But then, after it came out, one of the guys—the bodybuilders—wrote David a letter and told him that I’d slept with him. David called me, told me it was over.” I shrugged, hating that I could remember how much his call had hurt. And how much it hurt that he had called instead of telling me face to face.
As though reading my thoughts, Matt sneered. “He called? After six years, he called you to say it was over?”
I nodded.
“What a fucking coward. Man, you deserve so much better.”
I paused at the intensity of his voice and stared, as something about the way he’d said the word deserve struck me as odd. This was not the first time he’d brought up how he thought I was exceptionally deserving.
I glanced at our joined hands, unable to figure out precisely why his use of the word bothered me. “But it was okay, I think. I mean, I adored him. I did. He was so sweet. But we weren’t right for each other, obviously.” At some point one of us had threaded our fingers together instead of a simple hand-hold. “And I think I’ve just always wanted someone to adore.”
“Someone to cuddle?”
I lifted my gaze and found him staring at me with poignant concentration.
“Yes, Matt.” I squeezed his hand and he squeezed mine back. “Someone to cuddle.”
And right now, I wanted to cuddle with Matt. Even if he could only give me platonic cuddles. I wanted him.
“You should have someone who adores you. Who is worthy of you, Marie.” His mouth firmed into a determined tight line. “Never settle for less.”
15
Personal Couriers (Delivery Robots)
Founded and funded by Skype co-founders Ahti Heinla and Janus Friis, Starship's "personal couriers" are designed to deliver goods locally in 15 to 30 minutes within a two-to three-mile radius in suburban areas. The knee-high robots travel on sidewalks among pedestrians at a speed of up to four miles per hour. The robots are autonomous, covered in cameras, sensors, and LED lights to both notice and be noticed – they are able to sense pedestrians, cyclists, and crosswalks, and avoid getting in the way. The robots will begin food deliveries with DoorDash in Redwood City, CA and Postmates in Washington, D.C. beginning in 2017.
Source: Starship Technologies
“What about hot sex?”
My mouth fell open and I gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
Way to blindside a lady, Professor!
We’d just left the movie theater, having taken off a half day of work so we could spend an afternoon watching a triple feature. We both wanted to see the same three movies, but hadn’t been able to pick just one. So we compromised by watching all three.
Presently, we were walking toward an ice cream shop he knew about, and apparently Matt wanted to discuss hot sex.
“You know.” He nudged my shoulder with his, grinning with overly exaggerated lasciviousness, such that it wasn’t lascivious at all. It was just silly. “Is that one of the reasons you stuck things out with Doug? Because he supported both portrait and landscape modes?”
“What? You mean David?”
“Sure. Whatever his name is. Did he have you demo his multi-touch capabilities? Was it love at first optical recognition, or did he have to ambulate by your location multiple times? I bet you liked it when he touched your PCI slot, and it probably made his floppy drive hard.”
Speaking of hard, I was laughing so hard my jaw hurt. “Oh, God. Stop.”
Matt lowered his voice and leaned close to my ear. “Your mouth says 0, but your eyes say 1.”