“The line for the bathroom isn’t bad if you have to go,” Lucy said. She touched my arm. “Liv, are you—”
“I think I will go to the restroom,” I said, backing away. I only just saw her puzzled expression as I turned to struggle through a crowd dense enough to suffocate. Or so it felt in that moment.
I could not remember what he looked like. Our exchange was a mere moment, but I had felt the shift.
After, as I sat in the theater, the velvety red seats that I had not much noticed before pricked at my exposed skin, causing me to shift uncontrollably. Because each time I sat still, his heat enveloped me again. As hard as I tried, I could not remember what he looked like. I could only feel him.
I forced myself to focus on the second half. A bewitching Odette mournfully enthralled the crowd as her story unfolded. Why did it feel as though she watched me between sequences?
Back in the lobby, I scanned the crowd for clues. Hints. That man, who he was. To both my relief and disappointment, I did not see him again. I tried to forget the feeling while we dined and drank into the night.
The heavy door of our Lincoln Park apartment threatened to slam behind me, but at the last second, I caught the knob and eased it shut. I yawned, hanging my coat and sliding out of my pumps. Bill flipped on the television set in the next room while I sorted through mail, tossing half of it into the trash. On the brown polyester couch his mother had given us some years ago, I found him in his boxers, languidly watching replays of the basketball game he’d grudgingly missed.
Three glasses of red wine coursed through my veins. I stripped off my emerald dress in one sinuous motion and let it drop onto the floor. When he didn’t look up, I shimmied over and settled myself onto his lap.
“Hi,” I said in my sultriest voice. His hand righted a stray strand of hair as he glanced between the screen and me. I wet my lips and kissed him full on the mouth. I’d been humming with electricity since intermission and was impatient for human contact.
“Well, well,” he said when we broke. “What’s gotten into you?”
“It’s late. Take me to bed.”
His eyebrow rose, and his mouth popped open as if connected by an invisible string. He looked about to protest and then relaxed as he thought better of it.
In an uncharacteristically graceful motion he stood. With my body secured to his, he carried me to the mattress. Fingertips tenderly caressed the outsides of my thighs as he hovered over me.
“Shit,” I said, just as his face dipped. I sat up in a panic. “I forgot to pick up condoms.”
“It’s fine.”
My brows furrowed. “It is not fine. Not while I’m not on birth control.”
He sighed, annoyed. “Come on, just this once.”
“Nope. You know how I feel about no condom.”
“There’s one in the kitchen drawer,” he said, rolling his eyes. I slid out from underneath him and shuffled to the kitchen. I rifled through the cluttered drawer until I found one in the back. “Liv,” he called impatiently.
I checked the expiration date and ran back, jumping onto the bed. “I’m sorry, babe, where were we?”
Frown lines faded as he propped himself up on long, wiry arms. I touched his pecs, trailing my fingers down to a soft midsection while goose bumps sprang to attention across his skin.
“My, my, Mrs. Wilson,” he said. The designation always made me think of Bill’s mom, but I’d managed to control my grimace over the years. It remained one of the reasons I hadn’t officially changed my surname. “What big green eyes you have,” he continued, touching his lips just above my cheekbone. “And such pretty blonde hair,” he added, brushing a lock from my forehead. His hips ground against me in anticipation. I reached up and ran my hand through his floppy brown hair, cocking my head to the side.
“Not blonde, just plain brown,” I said with a pout.
“What?” he asked with feigned surprise. “You must be colorblind. I see some blonde strands in there.”
“You just want to tell people you married a blonde.”
“Agree to disagree, then.” He smiled. It creased his adorably crooked nose. He loved to say he’d broken it during one-on-one, but the truth was that it was just naturally that way.
He unhooked my bra swiftly, gently cupping my breasts in each of his hands. His fingers were long. I didn’t quite fill them up. From the living room, the unmistakable sounds of a heated basketball game blared from the television.