Page 61 of Present Tense

“Jillybear, it’s fucking freezing out here. Let me in.”

“I can’t. You can’t see me,” I say.

“Let me in, Bella. What more is there to see?” He’s insistent.

Unfortunately, it’s way too early in our relationship for him to get the full-on Meier household experience. “I thought you were coming on Wednesday.”

“I couldn’t wait to see you. I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Let’s just say it’s laundry day.”

“So?”

Fine. If we do this, I can’t keep this a secret. I fling open the door. I’m in a threadbare purple shirt that reads Wildcats Do It Better. And cutoff sweats permanently stained with oil from when Ethan and I tried to make doughnuts. My hair is piled on top of my head and I’m dotted with zit cream. I had a facial yesterday, which brought out all kinds of eruptions.

He, on the other hand, takes my breath away. He’s in a sport coat, plaid of course, but it’s subtle brown, the tie I bought him for Christmas, and those tight dark jeans I love. His navy wool coat is draped over his arm. His hair is a little longer and unruly. The chestnut curls are getting the better of his head, and I’m here for it. He looks sexy and gorgeous, and I haven’t showered in a couple of days. But the thing that’s most striking about him is the sparkle in his eyes. His whole face is smiling at me.

He grabs me around the waist, yanks me to him like I’m Scarlett O’Hara, and kisses me. His tender lips brush mine, and it’s been nine days and a lifetime that I’ve waited for this kiss.

He pulls back, and I’m mortified at the zit cream on his face. He laughs as I wipe it off.

“I missed you,” he says. I put my forehead to his. “I missed everything about you.” He grins.

I lick my lips and say, “In that case.” He pulls me closer and molds my body to his. And this is a different kiss. One we don’t have time to finish. I pull back just as his tongue swipes into my mouth and my thong soaks through.

He growls, “Bella?”

I whisper, “Ethan.”

From our living room, my nosy boy chimes in, “Yeah and I really don’t want to see any of that. We’re in the middle of grub day.”

“Hey, Ethan,” he yells over my shoulder, then looks at me and says, “Can I come in? I’m freezing. Your city is determined to give me frostbite.”

I giggle. “It’s grub day. Sorry.”

“There are larvae in your house?”

“No. We’re dressed grubby, cleaning and doing laundry. And there are things you can’t unsee. And you just got here and I don’t want you bolting back to Philly before we even get started…”

He pushes past me, and I try to stop him. The house is a mess. Everything is a mess.

“No. Please. You can’t. Please.” I have a pleading tone. I’m freaking out. He can’t see this. He’ll leave. I have to cover this up before he sees more. It’s bad enough my hair’s not brushed. I’m pulling his arm and trying to get him out of the house. “Please stop, Fletch.”

He does, turning to me, and I have tears in my eyes. They popped in there, uninvited. I attempt to blink them away. He rushes back to me and pulls me close.

“What is it, Jillien? You’re scaring me.”

It comes out whether I want it to or not, “You’re scaring me.”

“How? I just got here.”

“You can’t step any farther into this house.” He steps over my ankle length black puffer jacket. The one every Chicago woman owns for when the weather decides to be a little bitch in January and February. He’s close to my white-dotted face.

“You tell me right now. I packed up three months of clothing to move into corporate housing for us. You owe me.” I turn to pace and he stops me. “What is the big deal, my love?” And my whole body fills with warmth. Like a deluge of happiness invades every space in my body. I stop and look at him.

“I’m afraid you’ll leave.”

“Now I’m worried. Is it Ethan? Is he uncomfortable?”