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Fifty-Four
Mark had been in the shower for nearly forty-five minutes. Alex tied her hair into a messy ponytail and chuckled—he was going to be so pruned-up when he climbed out of there.
His lengthy disappearance had gifted her the chance to let their conversation sink in while exchanging her scratchy blouse and skirt for a much cooler bra-less slip dress. She also dressed the king-sized mattress in one of the large, unused bedrooms with fresh sheets and laid a spare bathrobe on the end of the bed. In the kitchen, she adjusted the air con temperature, left a jar of Nutella on the counter—ready for Mark’s breakfast in the morning—and stuffed Simon’s leftover beer in the fridge. She wanted him to relax, feel comfortable. She wanted to relax and feel comfortable, too, but her mind—and body—had other ideas.
She couldn’t stop hoping: Does his naked presence in my shower mean he’ll end up naked in my bed? Seeing him—hearing his confession, holding him through his tears—made her want to go much further than just sharing a takeout dinner across the breakfast bar. But isn’t it a cheap play, making a move on him? He was so vulnerable earlier. Even if he was willing to climb into bed, he was probably too tired. With the long flight, New York’s heat, and the emotion of the afternoon, it was a miracle Mark was still vertical…
…and still lathering up in her shower.
Oh, God!She leaned on the bar, her thoughts drifting to visions of water trickling down his chest, down his thighs… She closed her eyes. Not helping! Her heart was racing even faster than when she recognized him on the street. The longer he splashed around in there, the greater her desire grew to yank open the shower’s glass door and join him…to feel his lips against hers, feel their softness, their intent as they rediscovered all of her… Lex, just stop!
Four words flashed in her mind—too late for us.
What if the emotional rollercoaster of the past eight months had erased her from his heart, romantically? What if he wanted—needed—to be on his own for a while? Could I blame him? Not really. But embracing him, crying with him, she could no longer avoid the truth: she didn’t want him to be on his own now, for a while, or ever. He said he didn’t want the hectic life he had been leading. He said he wanted his privacy back, to make time for his loved ones. Hopefully, he meant it. She had never stopped loving him and maybe, he still loved her, too, but…how would she survive this evening if he only wanted friendship? What to do?
Freddie’s words echoed in her head: “Today isn’t a dress rehearsal for tomorrow…live in the moment…there is no time for regrets.”
She smiled. Who knew? Freddie Ryan: YouTuber, cheese and onion obsessive…life coach? Cheers, Freddie.
Leaving the safety of the breakfast bar, Alex strode over to the bathroom door. She took a deep breath, and her hand lunged for the door handle as the taps abruptly stopped, plunging the loft into silence. She froze. CRAP! The metal hinges of the shower’s door creaked. Mark was finally on the move.
No, no, NO!What if he stepped out into the living room right then looking for more towels? She couldn’t be caught lurking there.
She tiptoed a few feet away to the bookcase and fumbled with her iPod, sending music to the loft’s sound system. Broods, a band from New Zealand she loved, filled the room with their trippy, indie pop. Make like you’re busy. She ran over to the breakfast bar, and with her back to the bathroom door, started organizing plates and cutlery.
A few minutes later, the door snapped open.
A wave of steam, imbued with the light scent of his cologne, swept into the kitchen. Damp bare feet padded across the hardwood.
Finally.
“Lex?”
Alex turned around.
Mark’s light purple shirt was half-open, exposing a glimpse of his chest. His messy beard? Gone, along with his moustache and sad brown eyes, which now smiled along with his mouth. A clean pair of jeans hung low from his hips. As his fingers buttoned up his shirt, its hem lifted, showing off the black band of his underwear.
Fuck…fuck fuck fuck…Alex caught her breath.
Mark’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he took her in. He slicked his damp hair off his forehead. “Different outfit, Lex? You looked pretty before, but this dress…I might need another shower.”
She blushed, struggling for words. “Thanks.”
Mark caught her stare, his grin growing as he finished fastening his shirt.
The A/C is still on, right?Despite Alex’s slip of a dress, every inch of her was burning up.
“Food should be here any minute.” She turned back to the plates. Who was she kidding? Takeout wouldn’t satisfy her appetite.
Mark strolled over, standing behind her. He was so close. His breath caressed her neck in waves. “Lex…”
She glanced over her shoulder.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
They both flinched, but neither looked away.
Alex weaved on the spot, lost in his eyes…his familiar scent. Stupid food delivery.
