Page 14 of Present Tense

“Fletch. Thank you for a lovely time.” I hug him, and his voice vibrates all the teeny tiny hairs on my neck as he speaks in a low raspy tone.

“Turn around and give me your perfect fucking ass.”

And I do. He slowly slides his hand up my skirt and rests it on my ass while teasing me with a slight slap. There are people all around. It’s fucking hot that he just did that. I walk away from him with ragged breathing.

His friend James cuts me off at the door. “What a coincidence. We’re both leaving. I could take you places.” Go away, innocuous friend. I’m sure that you can’t.

I say as sweetly as I can, “I’m sure you could, but I’m promised to someone else tonight.” I kiss his cheek and walk into the gently falling snow.

As I slink around the back of the house I see that shot glass and Bev haven’t moved from where I said goodbye to them ten minutes ago. I creep inside, grabbing my tights off the kitchen table. I dart for the back staircase even though the house seems almost empty. I still move slowly on the creaky old wood.

Upstairs, I’m overwhelmed at hallways I haven’t seen in eighteen years. I was last up here for Lisa’s college graduation party. Even though we’d drifted apart, my family was invited.

Lisa always made me feel less than. She’s the type of person who believes knows what’s best for everyone else. I’ll bet she sells a shit ton of houses no one really wants. She was insanely jealous of my other friends growing up. I’d insist we were still besties, but the drain of reassuring her led to me dodging her phone calls.

I didn’t know we were frenemies. She’d alienate me from my friends, and then I’d come running back to her. I couldn’t see her complete picture until I saw her ass in the air and my boyfriend plowing into her over Christmas break of my sophomore year in college.

At thirty-six, you imagine all the familiar places in your memory stay that way. I can still see Lisa’s golden flowered wallpaper and smell the array of Lancôme Juicy Tubes. I hear our girlish giggles over boys in magazines and remember talking about what our lives would turn out to be. Lisa wanted to be a cruise director, and I thought I had to be a lawyer. That was before I understood I didn’t have to do what was expected of me.

I peek into Liam’s old room before he moved to the attic. I imagine the walls covered in hockey, bikini posters, and comic books scattered. His current room, which used to belong to his parents, has been remodeled, and the bathroom has taken over the hall closet, which was my favorite hide and seek spot.

It used to be flowery and full of dark wood antiques when it belonged to his parents, but now it’s masculine and modern. It’s filled with quirky-cool mid-century furniture. He has good taste.

There’s a pair of ashen womb chairs in the corner near the window. An old steamer trunk is between them and littered with New Yorkers and books. There are half-done crossword puzzles, and one of the cats is staring at me. It looks like it has a tuxedo on. The thing hisses, and I chase it off. I hate cats. The other cat, which I’m going to call Other Cat, appears in the doorway and sits. I stare at it, but it doesn’t move.

I sit down on his low bed instead of the green park bench at the foot of it. The brown leather headboard fills the room with a masculine scent. It’s rich, deep, and sweet, like his voice and demeanor. His comforter is deep navy and white. I’m guessing he was going for a modern Martha’s Vineyard vibe. It’s all making me care beyond the thought of orgasms, and I can’t have that.

My brain starts reeling. This is dumb. What am I expecting?

The cat is still in the doorway. “Other Cat, what the fuck am I doing here?” The cat cocks its head like it’s listening. “I can’t continue down this road. I want to sleep with him, but there’s too much built into all of this.” I sit down on the floor, and the cat doesn’t move. I gesture to the cat.

“Listen, I’ve got enough going on in my life. As much as I want to let go, let’s face it, Other Cat, that’s not me. You’ll console him, right? Is that a cat thing? I’ll apologize, I promise. I’ll jot a quick note and disappear into the night, and we can remember it as a fantastic almost-fucking.” The cat meows. “Exactly, Other Cat. You get me, even though I’m still not a fan of your kind.” I swear to fucking God, the cat shrugs and walks away. Cheeky bitch. I quickly get into my tights and boots. I grab my phone to summon an Uber, and there’s a text.

LIAM: Walking Ma home. Don’t go anywhere. Feel free to play with yourself, but don’t come without me. I need to see you fall apart.

Texting this dirty right next to his mother does give me pause. That’s filthy hot. But this has run its course.

JILLIEN: I wish you were here. I’m going to go.

LIAM: Please don’t.

I don’t know what to say to him. This is all fairy-tale and fantasy and that’s not the world I live in. Fuck. I want him, but I’m used to denying myself things I want. Hell, I’m a mother, part of that comes with the territory.

JILLIEN: This is too much. The flirting and almost coming have been lovely. It’s best if we cherish what it was. Merry Christmas, my sexy Fletch.

LIAM: That’s bullshit. Cherish? Next, you’ll be calling tonight #blessed.

I say aloud, hoping the cats are listening, “I’m being serious, and he’s mocking me. That doesn’t make me want to stay.”

LIAM: Stop your brain, Jilly. I know you. Stop running from this. You were never the one who overthought things. That’s me. You were the dive in and see what happens girl. Where is she? I want to see you naked, but I’m also not done talking to you. I want to hold you. Stay. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know it’s not over.

JILLIEN: Not a good idea. Right now, we walk away clean.

LIAM: It’s always your choice, Jillybear. Take sex off the table. Let’s figure out why we feel this way. I’ll walk you to your hotel. I’d like to have a conversation without time limits or interruptions.

LIAM: Jilly, get your fingernail out of your mouth. And you’re pacing right now, aren’t you?

Muthafucker knows me too well. Maybe I don’t have to deny myself. I’ve worn a path in his rug trying to decide. Pacing helps me sort things out. I want to stay. I can be present. It’s just tonight. Other Cat saunters in and stares. Tuxedo hangs back in the hallway. “I can do this, right? I can have something I want for a night,” I plead my case and the cat meows in response and disappears under the bed. “Thanks Other Cat. You’re a pal. Tuxedo…” I point at it. “You’re on watch.”