Love Show (10 page)

"I need that."

He shook his head. "No, you
don't."

"I do. I decided to sleep with
you and it's been years. Actual years."

He didn't laugh, which I was
expecting. He took another sip. "I don't want you to be drunk."

He set my half-full glass down on
the desk next to his. I walked toward him. He sat at the edge of the bed
watching me warily, his rich brown eyes glimmering. He reached for my wrists
and pulled me to him and kissed me hard.

He fell back and took me with him.
I closed my eyes as he rolled over me, and dug his fingertips firmly into my hips.
“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whispered, undoing the button on my
jeans.

I could taste the vodka and orange
juice on his mouth. He smelled like fresh air and marijuana, and he had the
softest, most talented lips in the world. He pulled the shirt over my head in
one firm tug that made my hair static.

I shivered.

He sat back on his heels and looked
at me.

“What?”

He smiled. “Take off your bra.”

I did. I shivered in the cool air
in his room and he didn’t move. I wanted him to do something, but he just stared
at me. For a brief moment, I worried that something was wrong.

“You’re beautiful,” he said
throatily.

“Shut up,” I whispered.

“No, really. You are.” He smiled
and he leaned forward and he kissed me. I pulled his shirt over his head and
ran my hands over his wide shoulders.

He stroked my ribs slowly and
smoothly. His hands felt warm and cold at once. I shivered, my skin prickling
wherever he touched me.

He slipped off my jeans, tugging at
them easily until they came off. He smiled at me.

I kissed him and he thumbed my
breast.

“I want to fuck you,” he whispered.
The way he said it sounded dirty and sweet at the same time. He kissed me hard,
but his hands were gentle as they pressed down on my ribs. His callused fingers
slid up and down my spine lightly and I shivered and arched my back.

I wanted him to fuck me, too.

He reached for my waist and pulled
me closer. I felt the warmth of his body. His boxers rustled slightly as I
pressed against him, tangling my fingers in his soft hair, which was just long
enough for me to run my fingers through.

He sat against the headboard,
holding me against him, grinding his hips slightly against mine and I felt a
spasm of desire shooting through me, down my legs to the tips of my toes.

I bit his lip softly.

“Christ,” he murmured. He lifted me
up, and pushed me back slightly, so that I was lying on my back beneath him,
with my head near the foot of his bed and my legs still clasped around his
waist.

“Jesus, Hadley,” he said fiercely.
He slid on top of me, holding most of his weight on his legs and forearms. He
kissed me until I was breathless and aching.

I nodded. I didn’t know what he was
saying ‘Jesus’ to, but I was there too. Out of breath and wild with the
sensation of being so close to him.

He hooked his fingers into my black
underwear and I let out a soft sound. I flushed when he slid them down to my
knees.

“Jesus, I want to fuck you,” he
said.

“Yeah,” I said. “You should do
that.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yes.” My throat tensed. My body
froze with anticipation and anxiety. It had been a while.

I sat up and ran a hand through my
hair. I was nervous. But, God, I wanted to have sex with him.

He grabbed my chin and kissed me.
“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He laughed and with his lips still
resting against mine, I could feel the vibrations of his laughter. “Then,
relax. It’ll be fun. I’ll go slow,” he said, meeting my eyes and seeing more
hesitation than I was going to admit to.

He pressed me back to the bed. He
kissed my mouth and my neck, and he moved down my body, dropping kisses on my
breasts and my stomach, on the sharp edge of my hipbone. When he reached the
soft skin of my inner thigh, I grabbed a handful of his hair.

He chuckled low and easy and I
closed my eyes and felt a jolt as he slipped two fingers in between my legs.

“Relax,” he said again, moving back
up my body to kiss my neck. I curled my toes so hard they cracked and his low
laugh moved through his body.

“You okay?” he asked, only
half-joking.

“I’m…” he curled his fingers and I
swore. He had hit something that went through my body like a shudder, only the
shudder that ran up my spine and down my toes was warm and white and somehow
soft.

Whatever word I was trying to say
came out much closer to a moan.

He smiled.

“You’re a bastard,” I murmured,
touching his face.

“I’m going to love watching you
lose control,” he teased. He slipped his fingers out of me in one smooth motion
and reached for a condom.

“This is good? You’re sure?” he
asked.

“How many times are you going to
make me say yes?”

He grinned and nipped at my neck. “Until
you’re screaming it, sweetheart.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He cocked his head, slipped on the
condom, and kissed me again. He moved over me and ran one hand up my leg. He hesitated
when I closed my eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” he said.

I opened my eyes. “You’re awfully
bossy.”

“
I’m
awfully bossy?” he
said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“You seem to be enjoying it.”

“Well, like I said, I really don’t
know what I’m doing,” I smiled, and took a breath, and he leaned down and
kissed me. This time, I kept my eyes open.

I watched the quiet intent in his
eyes, as he moved carefully and surely into me. I took a sharp breath, briefly
startled by the sensation.

I tensed reflexively. “Fuck,” I
muttered.

“Relax. Just breathe deeply a few
times, okay? If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

It took a second for the pain to
dissipate and then he moved in me, tentatively at first, just a slight rock
backwards.

I closed my eyes and gripped his
shoulders.

“Christ, you’re tight,” he
whispered shakily. I tightened my legs around him.

I could tell he was being gentle,
responding to my hesitance. I could tell he was holding back.

But even though I knew that, I felt
only him and I felt on the absolute edge of control. I was barely hanging onto
my own reactions.

I could only register his presence
above me and the sea of pleasure as he moved in me. I acknowledged briefly that
my mind had gone absolutely blank, like the single thing that existed in the
world in that moment was Jack Diamond’s body above me, the soft bed beneath me,
his tongue gentle on my lips, his eyelashes fluttering against mind, the warm
wave of a building orgasm.

Through the perfect haze, a single
coherent thought registered:
he was right about Luke doing it wrong
.

I dug my teeth into his shoulder to
keep from crying out and Jack had taken over, smiling seriously, holding my
hip, and controlling every movement so nothing hurt.

“Jesus, Hadley,” he whispered
roughly when he finally came. “Jesus Christ.”

I felt like my spine had melted
into a puddle. I might have said something to that effect because he laughed. I
closed my eyes, breathing hard, thinking of the other things I wanted to say
like
oh my god
. I decided not to say them.

But
oh my god.

He pulled out gently, got rid of
the condom and came back to bed. He pulled my boneless body back towards him.

“That was good,” I managed to say
as he wrapped an arm securely around my waist, and I turned against him, so my
head was buried underneath his chin. “You’re good at that.”

He pressed a hard, lasting kiss to
my shoulder. “I got nothing on you, girl.”

I dropped my head against his
shoulder knowing that I would remember this better than my first time—the dark,
lazy Saturday evening when Jack Diamond made me feel like nobody had ever made
me feel before.

I somehow fell asleep. When I woke up, he was sitting at his
desk, half-dressed, with his feet kicked up on the desktop, reading
Absalom,
Absalom
by William Faulkner in the low light.

He looked at me. “I swear I didn’t
drug you. You just passed out.”

I got up and ran a hand through my
hair. “What time is it?”

“Almost midnight,” he said. He
nodded out the window. “It’s snowing again. You should stay.”

“No, I should really get home,” I
said.  He glanced at the window dubiously. I could see the thick flakes
dropping from the sky and covering the world again. All winter it would be like
this, days and days of snow.

He got to his feet, holding the
worn paperback in one hand. He walked to me and straddled me over the covers,
letting the book fall from his hand. “It’s blizzarding.”

“I live two minutes away,” I
countered.

“You were drinking,” he said,
trying to press me back to the bed.

“Hours ago,” I said. I pushed him
back.

“It’s cold. And I’m warm.”

“I wake up early and I kick."

"I don't care."

I smiled, pushed him aside, and got
out of bed, trying to pretend he wasn’t watching me while I got dressed. “Sorry
about the whole nap thing…”

“Nah, it’s cool,” he said. “You
work so hard, you probably fall asleep whenever you lie down.”

“Pretty much,” I said.

He nodded. He smiled softly. “See
ya around, Hads.”

“See you around.”

I laughed softly on the stair
landing. This was exactly what I needed. Something fun. Something without any
expectations. Something with someone as cute as Jack could be.

I whirled through the next two weeks, eating on the run, and
sneaking into the frat house after midnight to see Jack whenever I could, which
wasn't enough.

I flew to D.C. for the interview
with
USA Today
, and was dumb enough to not check the shuttle bus
schedule when I landed back in Chicago late the same night, worn-out and in the
world's least comfortable shoes.

It was amazing anyone ever got
anything done in heels.

I called David from the terminal.
And sent him half a dozen texts. But he didn’t respond. And I knew that meant he
wasn’t near his phone. David never ignored me.

I sat down in the plastic chairs
near baggage claim. I had two people to choose from: Andrew and Jack. I chose
Jack.

"I'm stranded," I
admitted. "At the airport."

"Are you asking me for a
favor?"

"Completely," I said.

"I'm going to break the land
speed record on my way there just so I can gloat," he said.

He hadn't been lying. I'd only been
waiting fifteen minutes when he parked his Jeep out front.

"Where to, my lady?" he
asked.

"The newspaper office, if you
don't mind."

"I do, kind of. I was hoping
to take you with me," he said.

I smiled and rubbed my chin.
"Yeah. I've got to go though."

"You can't ever take a night
off?"

"I can. Just not
tonight."

When we reached the newspaper office,
he gave me a rueful look. "You want company?"

I smiled. "Yes, but I won't
get anything done."

"Alright," he said.

"Thank you. So much," I
said.

"My pleasure. That's what
friends are for."

“I might have to stop sleeping with
you so we can stay friends,” I confessed.

“Actually, I'm a really shitty
friend,” he replied. “So, maybe you should just keep sleeping with me. I'm
going to send you a bill for the car ride."

Andrew was throwing a baseball
against the wall in my office, talking through the opinion pages with a few of
our columnists. "Hads, we've been lost without you," he said,
catching the ball. "How was your flight?"

"Fine."

"No delays?" he asked.
"There's a nor'easter over Ohio."

I raised my eyebrows. “Ah, no. No
delays.”

"Amazing. Hey, so, did you
think about the Valentine's Day issue?" he asked. "Everyone likes the
idea. Right?"

The columnists all nodded.

"Ah, I haven't really thought
about it. A special edition?" I asked. I sat down on the edge of my desk
and tried to give it some serious thought. "You don't think this wouldn't
be better for the magazine?"

"Did you read my email?"
he asked. "We did a whole section-by-section breakdown."

"No, I have to look at
that," I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Well, let's just talk about
it," he said. "It's a good concept. It's packaging for an article on
sex and romance, which are more than just buzzwords. The holiday provides
relevancy to tackle bigger issues, like access to birth control, rates of
sexual assault, all the stuff nobody talks about because it's never
newsworthy."

"I hear you," I said.

"Well, I don't think you can
just say no."

"I'm not saying no. I'm just
not deciding now. Okay?"

"Well, when?" Andrew
asked. "Come on. It's a good idea. Juliet wants to give editing a
try."

"I don't know. How about—”

"Tuesday," Andrew said.
"How about dinner Tuesday?"

"I'm on the schedule to
copyedit Tuesday."

"I can take your shift,"
Shuchi, one of our cheery sophomore columnists, offered with a smile.

I exhaled. "Oh. Well, okay
then." I tried to smile gamely at Andrew. “Thanks, Shuchi.”

"Perfect," Andrew said.
"Thanks, guys. Great meeting." He clapped his hands.

They gather their notebooks and
left. "So, how was D.C.?"

"Fine," I said. "I
was there for like five minutes."

Andrew nodded slowly. "Well,
I'll let you do your work."

I nodded. "Thanks. Sorry to be
so short. I’m just a little overwhelmed."

"All good," Andrew said.
"We'll talk Tuesday."

"Yeah. Yeah."

"I'll make a reservation
somewhere."

"Yeah, anywhere is fine,"
I said. "We can go to Chipotle or something. Thanks."

"Alright," he smiled.
"It'll be good. Valentine's Day."

I smiled. "You're killing
me."

He laughed and whistled his way out
of the office.

I stayed there until midnight and
then went to the library to finish up an Arabic essay. I fell asleep curled up
in a library chair and only made it home as the sun began to rise.

I had one of those days where time moves fast and slow at
the same time—where you're so tired nothing really makes that much sense.

I was glad when it was over.

I texted David to see if he'd be
coming back for dinner. He hadn't cooked on Fridays in a few weeks.

He used to respond to my texts
instantaneously, but he'd only gotten back to me about needing a ride from the
airport the day after. With apologies and emojis and something about being busy
with Ben. But he didn’t write back to my text about dinner. So, I went into my
room to write a thank you note to my interviewer, Cheryl.

I was worried about David.

Or maybe I just felt a little
neglected. I chewed my lip. Maybe I was being selfish.

He was head-over-heels in love with
Ben. Ben who had to keep his sexual orientation hidden. Ben who couldn’t afford
to have anyone know. Ben who still hooked up with girls to keep up appearances.
And David believed it was all necessary.

I knew I shouldn't judge, but I
found it hard not to.

Ben could give just a little. He
could stop with the girls, at least. If he was making David tone down his whole
personality in public, then Ben could stop sleeping with girls.

After I’d written my thank you not,
David finally got back to me.
Sorry, have plans with Ben
.

Jack was busy, too, at a rush event
for his fraternity.

I ordered Chinese takeout, turned
on reality TV, and felt sorry for myself. I put a stamp on my thank you note,
and sighed.

The interview had gone well. They
wanted a recent graduate with editorial experience. But, I couldn't get excited
about it like I had about the
Times
job.

I reached for my laptop and impulsively
fired off an email to Suzanne at the
Times.

Dear Suzanne,

I just wanted to touch base with
you and see if there were any other positions at the
Times
that might be
opening up in the near future.

I hope to hear from you soon.

My best,

Hadley

I sent it before I could talk
myself out of it.

Yes, it was desperate. But I was
desperate, too. I knew what I wanted to do. I had spent almost every Friday
night in college like this—alone and exhausted—I shouldn't give up just because
I'd heard someone had said “no” once.

I fell asleep on the couch, in the
way you fall asleep when you're exhausted, thickly, like dropping heavily into
a dreamless cocoon of darkness.