Absolute Beginners (Absolute #1) (17 page)

“Can you find anything you like?” I asked.

Probably not
.

She turned and smiled. “I can’t believe you have actual vinyl records! Most people I know don’t even have CDs anymore. All my music is on this,” she said, pulling the tiny music player from her skirt pocket.

“Oh.” Once again, I felt hopelessly outdated.

“But it’s cool,” she reassured me. “Vintage, right?”

“I guess.” I shrugged. “Did you find anything you’d like to listen to?”

“I don’t really know a lot of these,” she admitted, turning her attention to the albums again. “There’s a lot of classical and opera. Not what I’m used to.”

“Oh, sorry,” I said lamely, although I had no idea why I was apologizing about my taste in music.

“Ah, here we are,” she said happily, pulling one out. “I know this guy.”

I put on the Leonard Cohen album that she chose, smiling at her fascination with my turntable. The first track, “Suzanne,” started, and the music made Julia’s face light up.

She’s so beautiful
.

I really wanted to kiss her again. Tentatively, I palmed her right cheek before leaning down to brush my lips against hers. The music flowed around us as she kissed me back, slowly and gently, and I felt the unfamiliar fluttering in my stomach again. I didn’t have time to dwell on it because Julia ended the kiss abruptly, taking a small step back.

“Wow…intense,” she said quietly. “His voice is hypnotic.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, wishing that she hadn’t pulled away. “Um, are you hungry?”

She shook her head, as if to clear it, and took a deep breath. “Starving.”

We walked over to the table, where I started to pull out her chair as she sat down.

“Oh, sorry,” she said. “Is this your usual seat?”

“Um, no,” I said. “Um” had apparently become a common word in my vocabulary since I started seeing Julia privately.

“Then why are you stealing my chair?” she asked, looking amused.

“I, uh, I was pulling it out for you?” I said, although it sounded more like a question.

“O…kay? Why?”

“It’s polite,” I said, scratching my neck.

“Really? Hmm, I never knew that,” she said, sitting down.

“You’ve never been on a date before?”

Shit! Why did I say “date”? This isn’t a date
.

“Uh, not that this is a date or anything,” I added, taking a seat across from her.

She gave me a dubious look. “Look, Stephen. I appreciate you cooking, but you really don’t have to do this whole ‘wine and dine’ routine with me. You’re still going to get laid, OK?”

Does she think I have an ulterior motive?

“That’s not why I…” I motioned to the food. “I didn’t do it for…
that
.”

“Then why did you?” she asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“I just…I like, um, ‘hanging out’ with you,” I said, making air quotes. “Or whatever you kids are calling it these days.”

She laughed a little and the tension evaporated. “I like hanging out with you too,” she said. “And this looks delicious.”

I reached for her plate, but pulled my hand back again. I was about to ask her if I could serve her, but changed my mind because that would probably fall in the “things I would do on a date” category. I sighed. This was difficult.

“What is it?”

“I’m, um, I’m not used to spending time with a woman like this. I mean, without it being a date. I’m used to doing certain things and it’s hard to break the pattern.”

“What sort of things?” she asked.

“Pulling out your chair, serving you dinner, and pouring the wine for you. Those sorts of things,” I said, motioning for her to take some food.

“Oh, all that gentleman stuff you see on TV,” she said, helping herself to a generous serving.

I wanted to tell her that gentlemen weren’t just mythical creatures reserved for fairytales and TV shows and that, if she wanted me to, I could do a pretty good job of being one. It had always been important to me to respect women and treat them like ladies. I knew some saw that as an old-fashioned notion, but to me it felt natural. After my father died, I was the man of the house and I took pride in caring for my mom. It had just been the two of us for a while before Richard and Matt had entered our lives, and that period of time had influenced me a lot. I’d kept my mother company as she watched old Hollywood movies and told me the story of how she and my father met in college, and how he was different from the other guys she had known—a perfect gentleman and a genuinely good and caring person who always treated her right. I wanted to be just like him. But Julia wasn’t interested in those qualities, so I didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” she said, flashing her lopsided grin at me. “Just pretend that I’m your brother when we hang out.”

“Not if you ever want me to touch you again,” I blurted.

“Oh, I definitely want you to touch me again,” she said, smiling.

“That’s, uh, good,” I said, fighting with my nerves.

“It
will
be good,” she practically purred, twirling the pasta around her fork.

Is she flirting? And when did eating pasta become erotic?

Apparently, it had become erotic right around the time Julia parted her lips and slid the fork into her mouth. The fact that she let out a small moan when she tasted it didn’t make matters any easier for me and I shifted a little in my seat.

“This is delicious!”

“Thank you,” I said, completely mesmerized by her lips.

“You’re not eating,” she said, taking another bite.

“I know,” I replied, making no move to do so.

“So, I was pretty surprised that I didn’t hear from you at all this past week,” she said, changing the topic.

“You were?”

“Yes. I expected a text from you at least once. Why didn’t you write me?”

Because I was afraid you’d say no
.

“Um, you didn’t contact me either,” I said, feeling very juvenile.

She shrugged. “I had my period. But I would have helped you out, if you’d been in the mood one night.”

I didn’t think it wise to tell her that ever since I’d started sleeping with her, I was in the mood every single night.

“OK,” I said and started eating.

“This works both ways, Stephen. You get that, right?”

I nodded.

“Good, just send me a text if you’re up for some fun one night. If I’m home, I won’t say no.”

I nodded again. “Did you…?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you plan what happened today? I mean, did you know you were going to invite me to your place after class?”

“Oh, yeah,” she giggled. “I had a good feeling you’d want to come over after seeing me in that outfit.”

“How did you know?”

“Stephen, please. I was playing the role of a naughty schoolgirl, and you’re a teacher. It doesn’t take a genius.”

Oh, God, I am such a pervert
.

“There’s nothing wrong with having fantasies,” she said softly.

“I know.”

“I really liked what we did today. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, I liked it,” I said, lowering my eyes to my plate.

“Fantasies are a lot of fun to live out,” she continued.

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” I blurted out, lifting my gaze to her.

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

“Am I your professor fantasy?” I whispered.

The thought came out of nowhere, but now that it had entered my mind, I couldn’t ignore it.

Will she get her fill of me soon and move on to the next one?

Her facial features changed from confusion to understanding. “No! I mean, yes, you’re my professor and I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first class, but it’s not a fantasy per se. If I’d met you somewhere else I still would have wanted to do this with you.”

I was flattered that she wanted me, regardless of my position. I wasn’t sure
why
she wanted me, though. I knew that I had many good qualities to bring into a relationship: I was loyal and honest, I liked taking care of others, I was a good listener, and so on. But I wasn’t sure of any of those merits really mattered to Julia. She seemed to mostly enjoy my body, which admittedly hurt a little, even though I knew that was the basis of our arrangement.

Or…was it? Here we were, eating dinner and conversing, like we actually
were
on a date.

“What…what is this?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “What are we? Sex buddies?” I’d heard Matt use that expression before when discussing casual sex partners.

“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it. We like having sex with each other and we hang out like buddies.” She nodded and smiled, but for some reason I couldn’t share her enthusiasm.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It just sounds so…impersonal,” I said, shrugging.

“You’re overthinking it again. You like fucking me, right?”

So blunt
.

“Um, yes.”

“I figured as much, since you said the word ‘fuck’ earlier.” She grinned.

“I think that was the first time I’ve ever used that word,” I admitted.

“I bet I can make you say it again.”

“Is that a challenge?” I asked, feeling courageous.

“More like a promise,” she said nonchalantly, giving me a wink.

“Sexual Healing” started blaring nearby and I rushed to the kitchen to answer the phone and, more important, stop the song.

“Just a moment,” I said into the receiver, before covering it with my hand.

“Interesting choice of ringtone,” Julia said, laughing.

“My brother’s idea of a joke,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Do you mind?”

Julia shook her head and dug into her food.

“Stephen Worthington,” I said.

“Oh, hello. This is Lily Lawrence,” a woman said. “My mother is friends with your mother?”

Oh, damn. Worst timing ever
.

“Yes, um, hello,” I said awkwardly, glancing at Julia, who seemed to be enjoying her meal a great deal, eating with her usual gusto. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

Truthfully, I’d almost forgotten that my mother wanted to fix me up. I looked at Julia again and smiled. I’d been a bit preoccupied lately.

She’s enjoying herself! What should I cook for her next time?

“Am I catching you at a bad time?” Lily asked politely.

“Sorry,” I said. I was being rude. “Yes, this is not the best time, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all right. Should I call you tomorrow?”

“I, uh…”

Oh, God. What am I going to do?

“Yes, that will be fine,” I said, cringing inwardly.

“All right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Have a nice evening, Stephen.”

“You too, Lily,” I answered automatically.

I didn’t just say her name in front of Julia. I did
not
just say her name in front of Julia. Oh, who the hell am I kidding?

I sat down again, worried about Julia’s reaction. She would undoubtedly have heard my end of the conversation. I scanned her face for unpleasant emotions, but couldn’t decipher her expression. It was excruciating that I couldn’t read her properly and I had to know how she felt about this.

“That was a woman named Lily Lawrence. Her mother and my mother are friends and they’re trying to set us up on a blind date.”

“OK,” she said, shifting slightly.

Does it make her uncomfortable?

I tried to imagine Julia announcing that she was going on a date with a man. The mere thought made my stomach feel as though it was filled with molten lava.

“I don’t have to go,” I assured her.

She shook her head. “That’s OK. Just let me know if things get serious with her and we’ll stop doing this.”

But I don’t want to stop doing this
.

“Really, Stephen, you should go,” she said. “It’s no big deal. I don’t date, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. That’s what most people do. It’s just not for me.”

“All right,” I said, despite the fact that I didn’t feel right about it at all.

“So…what are you doing this summer?” Julia asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, nothing special. I have some articles I’m working on that I’d like to finish when the semester is over and I’ll probably take a trip to Napa Valley for wine tastings.”

“That sounds like fun. I like this one, by the way,” she said, holding up her glass.

“Yeah, I bought that last summer. I go almost every year. What are you doing?”

“Not much of anything. I’ll probably go to LA a few times with the girls, if there are any good bands in town, but that’s about it.”

“No vacations? Trips abroad?” I asked, knowing that Julia had traveled a lot in her past due to my Facebook research.

Research, stalking. Potato, potahto
.

“No, I have things that keep me here,” she said, avoiding my eyes.

“Things?”

“Just things,” she said vaguely.

What things?

We ate in silence for a few minutes, but I had lost my appetite. Julia, however, ate ravenously, which made me both happy and sad. Happy that she was enjoying something I’d prepared for her, and sad because my going on a date didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, and apparently there were things she didn’t want to share with me.

“That was excellent,” Julia said, leaning back in her chair. “I haven’t had chicken cacciatore since I visited Italy.”

“You’ve been to Italy?” I asked, hoping that I sounded surprised.

Like I didn’t already know. God, I am such a stalker
.

“Yep, I traveled a lot after high school. I wanted to see more of the world before I started college. Have you traveled?”

“No,” I admitted. “I’ve never left the US. I went to college right after high school and grad school right after that.”

“That’s too bad,” she said. “But being a professor is a huge accomplishment in itself. You still have plenty of time to travel if you want to.”

“I suppose so,” I said doubtfully. “Um, would you like some more to eat?”

“No, thanks.” She smiled. “It was really good. You’re a great cook.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling in return. “Was it worth the wait?”

“Definitely. I don’t think I want to wait for dessert, though.”

“Oh, sorry,” I started. “I didn’t—”