Chocolate Page 6

  I raised my eyebrows. “Wow. I feel like you took a real gamble delivering that soul-baring speech without any pants on.” I said straight-faced.

  “I know, I actually kind of wish that I’d thrown on some boxers before I started.”

  I laughed, but then I said more seriously, “I guess I’m just confused. Isn’t the guy supposed to be the one who practically throws the girl out of his apartment the next morning? You’re disrupting the natural order of things.”

  “I mean, yeah, that’s usually my M.O. But with you, I don’t want to. And I figure that means there’s something important going on between us that we shouldn’t ignore. That I don’t want to ignore.”

  “Luke –”

  “Lyss, don’t overthink this,” he said. “I just like hanging out with you. I like talking to you, I like looking at you, I like having sex with you. And if you stay, all we’ll do is order food and watch TV and drink alcohol and have more sex. That’s it.”

  I blinked. “Those are literally all of my favorite things.”

  “I know. Mine too,” he nodded his agreement. “And I want to do them with only you.”

  “Hmm,” I said. I needed a minute to process this. I mean, to be honest, I was kind of freaked out. This was in direct conflict with the standard operating procedure of every guy I had ever met. But I understood what Luke meant about the tedious games couples played when they were just getting to know each other. I knew how both parties engaged in carefully planned moves to obfuscate their true feelings until they were sure that the other person felt the same way. It was a ridiculous way to begin a relationship and, in that regard, Luke’s candor was refreshing. But at the same time, when it came to dating, I was definitely someone who played the long game. I needed time to think about the other person and what I was getting myself into before I committed. Then again, how well had the long game really worked out for me in the past? It wasn’t like I had a string of successful relationships to point to. Particularly not recently. In fact, lately it had meant that I ended up not dating at all. So maybe it was time to just say “fuck it” and dive in. After all, I did really like Luke. Like, a shocking amount. And who’s to say that a relationship that goes from zero to sixty in point five seconds can’t succeed? I mean, right? Plus, I could always just go back to my apartment if things didn’t work out.

  “Okay, I’ll stay,” I finally said. Luke’s relief was palpable and his face broke into the most genuine smile I’d ever seen. I put my hand up. “But I need to stop by my place to get some stuff,” I continued. “I don’t even have a toothbrush here. And you destroyed my only pair of underwear last night.”

  Luke looked proud of himself for a second before he said, “I believe that stopping by your place can be arranged.”

  “Alright,” I nodded.

  “Alright,” he agreed.

  Then we both gave each other silly smiles before we started kissing like teenagers going at it in the backseat. I sighed. I didn’t think that I’d ever get tired of kissing him.

  A while later, hunger and basic personal hygiene needs finally compelled us to leave Luke’s bed. We swung by a diner for brunch and, since the only clothes I had available were the ones I’d been wearing the night before, I felt like I was broadcasting loud and clear that I was in morning-after mode. But after a Bloody Mary or two, I stopped caring as my veggie omelet and Luke’s and my comfortable conversation occupied all of my brain space.

  When we were finished eating, we headed up town to my apartment. As I let Luke in the front door, I felt a little nervous. I always did when I invited someone new into my home. I think that I was afraid of being judged or something. Like my guest would see all the knickknacks and pictures and books that I’d collected over the years and think that I was preparing for a role in the next Grey Gardens documentary. At least I didn’t own a cat.

  Luckily, Luke was decidedly nonjudgmental as he stepped inside. “Hmm, I like your place,” he said after his eyes swept around the living room. “It’s very…you.”

  “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” I replied skeptically.

  “You should. I meant it as one.”

  I shook my head. “Come on,” I sang, and motioned for him to follow me.

  We walked back to my bedroom and Luke turned into a museum curator as he made his way around the small space. He examined every old poster and painting hanging on my walls, every family photo sitting on my desk, every piece of jewelry strewn across my dresser, even the figurine of a sleeping pony that sat on my nightstand. I took advantage of his preoccupation and swapped my concert attire for some oversized sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. I knew it was dumb to feel self-conscious about changing in front of Luke when I’d spent most of the morning wearing nothing at all with him, but I did.

  I tried to ignore him as I zigged and zagged around the room, throwing things into a bag, but his ongoing scrutiny made me squirm a little. I felt like I was on display. Finally, while I was slipping on my shoes, Luke turned to me, seemingly ready to render his verdict. But instead of telling me what he thought, he simply asked, “Is there anything about you that’s predictable?”

  I smiled. “Nothing that I’ve been able to identify yet.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way,” he said, and then he crossed the room to plant a gentle kiss on my lips.

  “What was that for?” I asked.

  “For being you,” he said. “I’ve yet been able to find something that I don’t like.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t have any complaints yet either,” I said casually, even though my heart had just skipped a beat.

  A few minutes later, I had packed enough stuff to last me at least a couple of weeks. It wasn’t like I needed a lot of options; I basically wore leggings and a different sweater or sweatshirt every day at this time of year. And I could always pop back up here if I needed nicer clothes for work. Or anything else, for that matter. In fact, reminding myself that that was an option made the whole idea of packing up and heading down to Luke’s feel a lot less daunting.

  Luke hoisted my bag onto his shoulder and grabbed my hand. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready,” I confirmed.

  We exited my room and walked down the hallway that led to the rest of the apartment. Just before we reached the front door, Luke stopped at the thermostat located on the wall.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Turning down your heat,” he replied. “You’re not going to be back here for a while.”

  Set Down Your Glass

  I didn’t spend a single night at my own apartment for the next six weeks. Luke and I fell into an easy rhythm of cohabitation almost immediately. We’d wake up together, have coffee, and then I’d either go into the magazine to sit at my desk or just adjourn to his second bedroom-turned-office to write. My working style was the type where, once I got into a groove, nothing short of a nuclear bomb would pull me out of it, so even though there were days when Luke and I occupied the same physical space, I truly had no idea how he spent his time. Sometimes when I’d break for lunch, he’d be gone, ostensibly at a meeting or engaging in some other official music industry business. Other times, he’d be sitting on the couch watching ESPN in his boxers. Regardless, we’d always meet back at his apartment in the evening for cocktail hour and dinner, which usually consisted of takeout, unless I was feeling ambitious and decided to cook. So yeah, takeout.

  It all felt so natural, which was probably the most unnatural thing about it. Like, it was weird that it didn’t feel weird. After all, we were living together for all intents and purposes – a step that I’d previously assumed would take me years to work my way up to with someone, or at least longer than the two days that it’d taken me with Luke. I mean, I liked my space. And my freedom. Plus, relationships took work and led to the development of a certain codependence that I tended to resist. Like, did we really have to set aside time to tell each other about our days? Did we have to drive each other to the airport? Because
when things fell apart, those little gestures inevitably became the things that I ended up missing the most. So lately I’d just gotten used to never having to think about anyone but me. Yet, sliding into a relationship with Luke just felt…right. Easy. It was somehow both comfortable and thrilling all at once. For the first time in a long time, I felt like being with someone was better than being on my own. I didn’t think that I’d mind driving Luke to the airport if he asked me to either.

  And it wasn’t just because I was getting laid regularly, although that was a nice perk. It was more about all the other things that came along with that. Like when I had to leave to interview someone for work, especially at night, Luke would almost always drive me there. And sometimes when he picked me up, we’d just drive around listening to music for a while. Luke had every Teenage Fanclub and Nirvana album from the ’90s, and he liked to think that he was imparting some sort of invaluable musical wisdom on me by making me listen to them. Even though I was already well-versed in ’90s bands, it was still some of my favorite time that we spent together. It just felt so good to know that he was willing to go out of his way to be with me and share his interests with me at the same time.

  And obviously it wasn’t just the driving. Far from it. It was the smile he gave me when our eyes first met in the morning, like he was happy to find me still in his bed. It was the space he cleared for me in his closet. It was the extra blanket he bought from Bed, Bath, & Beyond for his couch so that I wouldn’t be cold while we watched TV. It was the way he held my hand when we crossed the street. It was the random picture of himself making a funny face that he texted me when he was bored. It was the way he learned my takeout orders, the way he kissed me when I walked in the door, the way he slept with his arms around me at night. All of it. I couldn’t get enough.

  I also got to explore parts of the city that I’d never seen before with him. He knew a lot of great restaurants, but he knew even more great bars. Luke was definitely more social than I was, which meant that he went out a lot. And now that we were shacking up, he always took me with him. It was so much fun. More often than not, we’d meet up with the rest of the guys in his band and, when they all got together, they were like nonstop energy. There was always some DJ playing here that we had to check out or some singer doing a set there that we needed to see. I thought that I spent a lot of time listening to music for my work, but these guys took it to a whole new level. I loved it though. I got to see a side of the Chicago music scene that wouldn’t otherwise have been on my radar. Plus, it was so amusing hanging out with that group of guys. They were constantly making fun of each other, like a family, like a big group of brothers. And, although I’d never say the word to their faces, seeing them all together was really cute.

  Yep. All in all, I’d say I was passing a pretty pleasant winter tucked away at Camp Davies.

  One evening, after I’d been a permanent fixture in Luke’s apartment for almost a month, he and I were sitting on the couch together watching TV. I was pretty captivated by the season finale of the dragon-packed series that was flashing on the oversized screen in front of me – seriously, what was with boys needing to buy television sets that were bigger than me? – so it took me a while to notice that Luke had a pad of paper in his lap. I looked over, curious about what he was doing, and I saw that he was sketching. He was sketching a picture of us, seated on the couch, wearing sweats and looking completely relaxed, just like we were right now. And it was good. I mean, it was rough, but I could certainly tell that it was us.

  I set down my wine glass on the coffee table and turned to him. “You draw?” I asked, surprised to discover this new facet of his character.

  “A little bit,” he said without looking up. His pencil slid smoothly across the page, adding shadow and depth to our two figures.

  When I didn’t say anything, he raised his head to look at me. “What?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. It’s just, you think you know a guy.”

  He smiled. “Come on, you don’t have any hobbies? Any disciplines? Things you do for fun?”

  “You mean besides alcohol, television, and I guess now I can add sleeping with you to the list?”

  “Oh, that last one’s a crowd pleaser,” he said. “Definitely my favorite. In fact, I think you should devote way more of your time to that one. Maybe turn professional.”

  I raised my eyebrows and gasped, ecstatic that he’d given me such an easy opportunity to roast him. “Are you suggesting that I start charging you for my sexual services?” I asked. “You’d better be careful, Davies. I’m pretty sure prostitution is illegal in the state of Illinois. Not to mention you’d be looking at a solicitation charge. That’ll earn you some time in the clink.” I actually had no idea if solicitation was a crime punishable by imprisonment. Either way, it was funny.

  “Well, then that’s a risk I’m willing to take. And anyway, they’ll never take me alive,” Luke said defiantly. “We’ll skip town, go out on the lam, change our names, knock over a bank –”

  “Oh, I’m coming with you on your little crime spree?” I asked.

  “You’ll have to, Roxanne. You’ll be on the hook for prostitution if you stay.”

  I sighed dramatically. “I knew I should never have gotten involved with a rock star. They’re nothing but trouble.”

  “What can I say, babe? I live on the edge.” Then his smile faded. “Plus,” he went on, “you wouldn’t really let me leave without you…would you?”

  I knew we’d been joking up to this point, but something about the change in Luke’s tone told me that we were now having a more meaningful conversation about just how serious we were about one another.

  I didn’t have to think very hard before I said, “No, I honestly wouldn’t.”

  “Good. Neither would I,” he said.

  “Good.”

  “Good.”

  He put his drawing pad down on the table and leaned in toward me. With one hand on the back of the couch near my shoulder, he lifted his other hand and tucked a stray hair that had fallen from my ponytail behind my ear before resting his palm on my cheek. He swiped his thumb back and forth across my lips, the soft contact practically making me tremble. The look in his eyes was so tender and sweet that before I knew what I was doing, I shifted into him and pressed my lips against his. He wrapped his arms around me while I pushed him so that his back was pressed against the arm of the couch and my legs were straddling his waist. I opened my mouth to grant his tongue access as I lifted my hands to tangle them in his hair. I wanted him right now. I wanted this man who made me feel alive and safe and cherished and excited all at the same time.

  Without warning, he pulled away. “Stand up,” he said, and I did. Then he stood too. We both faced each other, the glow of the forgotten television illuminating one side of our faces. Behind him, I could see snowflakes starting to fall in the large industrial window, lending an even more peaceful feeling to the already quiet night.

  Luke began to undress me. First he pulled the oversized cardigan I was wearing from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Next he reached behind my head to where my long locks were casually thrown up into a messy bun. He tugged gently on the rubber band, causing my hair to tumble carelessly down my shoulders and back. The look he gave me as he ran his hands through the silky strands was one of pure adoration.

  Now it was his turn to disrobe. I grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt to take it off and he helped me pull it over his head. But as it cleared his arms, an audible rip emanated from the worn fabric. “Uh oh,” I said, fingering the six-inch tear along the seam of the sleeve.

  “Damn,” he said. “I love this thing.” I already knew that. He wore it all the time.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I think I can sew this.”

  “You can?” he asked, clearly surprised.

  “Hey, don’t act so shocked,” I reprimanded him. “I can be a domestic goddess when I want to be. And that includes doing a mean running stitch. You’ll see,
it’ll be good as new.”

  “I’m sure it will be,” he smiled. “You have not yet ceased to amaze me.” Then he put both hands on the sides of my face and kissed me so sweetly that I felt like the most treasured person on the planet.

  We made quick work of shedding the rest of our clothing, with both of us helping the other to get completely naked. Then Luke took me by the hand and led me around to the opposite side of the couch. He turned me so that I was facing the TV and he was behind me. He intertwined his fingers with mine before placing both sets of our hands on the back of the sofa for support. Using his knee, he urged me to spread my legs apart and I willingly submitted to his silent instruction.

  I bent over at the waist and reveled in the feeling of his firm chest pressed against my exposed back. This was basically the vertical version of how we slept every night and I’d grown very fond of the position. He raised one hand long enough to drag my hair to the side, leaving my neck exposed, and I became very aware of his hard length pressed against me. The thing about Luke was that there was rarely any preamble before sex. Notwithstanding the first morning we were together when he was deliberately torturing me, he generally liked to get right down to it and I did too. So it was no surprise that while he buried his face in my side-swept hair and placed gentle kisses along my shoulder blades, he thrust his hips and entered me from behind.