Absolute Beginners (Absolute #1) (16 page)

“And you’re a responsible guy,” she added, before heading to the bathroom. “I know you wouldn’t lie about being safe.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” I murmured, reaching down to pull up my pants and boxers, which were still pooled around my ankles. I was lucky that I hadn’t accidentally tripped or something equally embarrassing.

Julia reappeared and started dressing, which was a shame. I liked looking at her half-naked body.

“God, I’m starving,” she said out of nowhere.

“I can make us something,” I suggested.

“Oh, that’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t have any food in the house.”

“We, um, we could go to my place,” I said carefully. “I have everything there to make dinner.”

She stopped buttoning her shirt, looking at me.

“You could come by in an hour and I’ll have it ready,” I added. For the first time, I felt her hesitate. Her eyes showed apprehension, something I’d never seen in them before.

“An hour?” she asked. “I don’t know. I’m into instant gratification.”

“I’ll make it worth the wait,” I coaxed. I didn’t want our time together to be over yet and I hoped that she’d say yes. I liked spending time with her. She was easy to talk to and I was starting to feel bored when I was home alone. That was definitely a first for me, and I didn’t like it one bit.

Please come over
.

“Are you a good cook?” she asked.

“I’ve never had any complaints.”

Well, in all fairness, I’ve mostly cooked for Matt, who’d eat road kill if it had cheese melted on top
.

I could see the wheels turning in her head, and I wondered why a simple offer to eat dinner at my place would make her so pensive.

“I guess we could do that,” she finally said, and started unbuttoning again. “Then I’ll have time for a shower, first.”

Yes, she said yes!

“I’ll go home and get started, then,” I said eagerly and headed for the door. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

I had almost reached it when she called my name. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked, grinning.

What? Oh
.

I walked over and cupped her face in my hands, giving her a soft kiss. She let out a small laugh.

“What is it?”

“That was nice, but I actually meant that you didn’t give me your address,” she snickered.

Oh! God, how did I ever manage to get a doctorate with my idiotic brain?

I told her where I lived and kissed her again before I left, feeling fantastic about our dinner plans. On the drive home, I found myself planning out the evening.

She prefers red wine, and I have that really great bottle I’ve been saving. I should probably stop at the store and buy some candles, too. She really likes those. I need to shower and change. Should I change my sheets? Dinner dates don’t usually equal sex, but with Julia…

I drew a deep breath at my realization, pulling over to the side of the road.

I’m having Julia over for a date!

It’s not a date. It’s
not
a date!

I rushed through the supermarket, throwing things in my cart, all the while telling myself that I was not about to have a date with Julia. We were just having dinner and that was all. She’d already made it perfectly clear that she didn’t date, and that we weren’t in a relationship. Dating wasn’t part of our arrangement at all.

Besides, I don’t even like her
.

The second the thought passed through my head I knew it was a lie. I
did
like her. Not romantically, of course, that was just preposterous. We were entirely incompatible for a serious relationship. But I did enjoy spending time with her and not just in bed, although that was where we were usually situated since she didn’t have a dining table or a couch. I loved sleeping with her, but I also had a good time just talking to her and watching movies together. It was a welcome change from spending most nights by myself.

Julia was easy to be with. We discussed literature, which was the one interest that we had in common—well, apart from sex, obviously. We were both interested in that. I wondered if she’d planned our encounter today before she came to class. She’d told me that she’d worn the outfit for me because she thought that I’d like it. She’d been absolutely right about that. It had turned me on beyond belief to see her dressed like a modest schoolgirl because I knew that was deceptive, at best. Julia certainly wasn’t shy about her body and her sexuality, and I really liked that about her. In the beginning it had intimidated me, but now I preferred it that way. I didn’t feel as nervous about sleeping with her as I had at first. The knowledge that she’d tell me what to do without judging me for my lack of experience was very freeing, and it allowed me to relax and enjoy myself when we were together.

She’s not like other women at all
.

Frowning, I recalled my previous experiences in the bedroom: fumbling, nervous touches underneath the covers with women who didn’t offer words of confirmation or encouragement. The mortifying realization that they weren’t enjoying themselves and I had failed to make them climax. Subsequent awkward conversations, breakups, disappointment, and self-doubt, all made me doubt my abilities as a lover. That summed up my sexual past and I hated thinking about it. Eventually, it drove me into celibacy. Having a brother who openly bragged about his many conquests—the trail of satisfied women all over the Bay Area who, in his own words, were begging him for more—coupled with my own embarrassing experiences had left me despondent and weary.

But then Julia had come along. Julia, with her openness and no-nonsense attitude toward sex, who’d shown me how great it could feel to lose oneself in physical pleasure and not constantly focus on cerebral matters. She was a breath of fresh air and I’d be a fool not to like her for that reason alone.

It’s not a date, but I still want to give her a great night at my place
.

I could reciprocate her kindness with a nice home-cooked meal, which I was under the impression was something of a rarity for Julia since she didn’t cook at all. Happy with my decision, I finished grocery shopping and raced home to my apartment, knowing that I had plenty to do before she arrived. Thankfully, I had just cleaned the day before so I didn’t have to worry about that.

Not that she would care with the clutter she’s used to living in
.

I started dinner immediately because I knew that Julia was hungry already and I didn’t want her to have to wait too long once she arrived. I had decided to make chicken cacciatore, which took almost an hour to cook, and I was already behind schedule. I could have made her something simpler with what I’d already had at home, but I wanted her to enjoy her time here. It might encourage her to come back another night.

I prepared the chicken pieces and browned them, moving onto the vegetables while I thought about what would happen when she arrived. I found it impossible to predict Julia’s behavior most of the time, but I still tried. As I was thinking through the possibilities, a frightening notion hit me.

What if she cancels?

She had seemed a bit reluctant when I’d invited her and I suddenly worried that she might have changed her mind. I checked my phone, but thankfully she hadn’t texted me since I’d left her apartment. I went back into the kitchen where I covered the chicken and vegetables with diced tomatoes and a little white wine, leaving it to simmer while I boiled water for the fresh pasta that I’d picked up. I decided to slice some ciabatta as well. I knew that Julia could eat a lot compared to most women I’d dated, which was rather refreshing.

I set the table and wondered if Julia might feel inspired to buy a dining table once she realized how nice it was to eat at one. She could just get a small one with two chairs for when I visited her.

No, probably not. I bet she likes eating in bed. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who cares about doing what others do
.

I looked around my apartment and tried to view it with neutral eyes: hardwood floors; white walls with a few paintings in subtle tones, all in metal frames; a dark-gray couch, a coffee table, a dining table, and bookshelves in light-colored wood. It didn’t give much away about the person who lived there, except that he was obviously a stickler for order. My books, records, and movies were alphabetized and divided into genres, the surfaces were clean, and I had a very low tolerance for knickknacks. My apartment looked the exact opposite of Julia’s place, and I was fairly sure that she’d hate it.

She probably won’t come back if she doesn’t like it here
.

I pulled out the candles that I’d bought at the store and rummaged through several drawers before I found some candlesticks, a gift from my mother that I had never used. After setting the table and lighting the candles, I thought about dinner music, a more daunting task. Julia seemed to love music and I was a little worried that she wouldn’t like my taste. I decided to let her pick the music tonight.

After a quick shower, I changed into a light sweater and a pair of dark khaki pants, which hung too low on my hips. But as I automatically reached for a belt, I remembered my brother’s criticism—“geriatric.”

And I wear my pants too high, apparently
.

Hoping that Matt was correct, I decided to go without the belt and resisted the urge to pull my pants up. I kept my hair as it was since I’d only received compliments since I’d stopped taming it. I still thought it looked a little peculiar, but everyone else said that it looked good.

The doorbell rang. I felt a fluttering in my stomach again and my heart pounded faster.

I must be more nervous than I thought
.

I rushed to the door, ridiculously eager to see Julia again, and practically ripped it open. She stared back at me, and a second later I was thrown up against the wall with her pressed against me, her lips on mine, kissing me hungrily. It only took me a moment to recover from the attack before I picked her up and turned us around so I was the one pinning
her
against the wall. She wrapped her legs around my waist and fisted her small hands in my hair. The kiss deepened and she moaned into my mouth when I kneaded her backside and ground into her.

“Fuck!” she panted, breaking the kiss. “I want you, but I’m completely starved, too.”

I let out a small laugh and lowered her legs. “Let’s have some dinner,” I said, before I cupped her face and gave her a quick kiss.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she breathed. I looked at her, happy to see that she hadn’t put on any makeup and her hair was still braided. Her outfit was different, though. She was wearing a short black skirt and a tight red T-shirt with some writing on it.

“Don’t you ever get cold?” I blurted out.

“No, not when I’m standing next to someone as hot as you,” she answered with a grin. “You look
so
good tonight, Stephen. That’s why I jumped you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen you look so casual before.”

“Oh, is that, um, good?”

“I think so. You’re usually all Mr. Prim-and-Proper, but tonight you just look…sexy as hell,” she said, looking me up and down.

My cheeks grew warmer under her scrutiny and she laughed a little.

“You’re so fucking cute sometimes,” she said, and before I knew it she was back in my arms and had me pressed against the wall as we kissed passionately.

I picked her up again and, without breaking the kiss, managed to close the door and carry her into the living room where we ended up on the couch. Her hands were all over me and I was ready to forget all about eating when her stomach growled. She laughed.

“Dinner?” I murmured against her neck, where I’d been busy kissing her soft, warm skin.

“Dinner,” she confirmed.

I helped her up and straightened my clothes while she did the same. I felt a little awkward, but she seemed perfectly at ease with the whole situation, smiling at me. I had no idea what to say to her and felt my familiar nervousness returning.

“Um, would you like some wine?”

“Sure, red if you have it,” she said, looking around.

I escaped into the kitchen, taking a couple of deep breaths while I poured the wine and dropped the pasta into the water. She was perusing my books when I came back and I handed her a glass, noting with dissatisfaction that my hand shook a bit.

“Are you going to give me a tour?” she asked, taking a sip.

“Er, sure.”

I showed her the kitchen, my office, the bathroom, and the bedroom.

“So, um, what do you think?”

“It’s great,” she said. “Exactly what I expected and yet completely different.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I can see that you’re a bit of a fuddy-duddy,” she teased, nudging me with her elbow.

I can’t really argue with that
.

“And that’s what you’re like in class, mostly, so it makes sense.” She hesitated, and I could see that she wanted to say something else.

“But?”

“I’m just a little surprised that it’s so…cold,” she finally said.

“I can turn up the thermostat.”

She laughed. “No, I didn’t mean the temperature. It just seems a little austere.”

“Austere?” I asked. “Because I don’t have any comforts or luxuries?”

“Exactly,” she said. “It doesn’t really seem like you at all. Your apartment is a little cold, and you’re extremely hot, as we established.”

“Um, no one else sees me that way, I don’t think. And I like things to be in place.”

She nodded and looked around again. “You must
hate
my apartment,” she chuckled, and went back into the living room.

I really do. But I can live with it because you’re there
.

I didn’t tell her that and followed her.

“I’ll check on the food,” I said. “You can pick out some music, if you’d like.”

She nodded and went over to my stereo system while I went into the kitchen.

OK, it’s going well so far
.

I carried the food to the table. Julia was still looking for something to listen to.