“No, I don’t think it’s that.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s just really serious about his privacy.”
“Maybe he’ll come around. Get in touch again.”
“I doubt it. We didn’t even exchange numbers. The only place we ever communicated was through the Hotties for Hire site.”
“Sounds like you communicated pretty well in the kitchen too.”
I glanced over at the kitchen table. Would I ever be able to look at it again and not think of the way he moved? The way he drove me to clutch and claw and beg? The way he made my body yearn and stretch and quiver? “Yeah.”
Jaime sighed. “I’m sorry, Claire. I mean, I’m glad you had a great time, and I’m proud of you for coloring outside the lines a little, but I wish you were happier about it.”
“I’m happy about it.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. “It did feel good to be a little daring. And I learned some things about myself.”
“Such as?”
I thought for a moment. “I like a dirty mouth.”
She snickered. “Me too.”
“And I shouldn’t be ashamed of what I want.”
“Fuck no.”
“I can wear red lipstick.”
“Wait—red lipstick? You don’t wear red lipstick.”
“I did last night. I’ve been thinking about Margot a lot, about the night she threw those scones. I wanted to channel some of that badassery.”
Jaime laughed. “I think you succeeded.”
“But I also learned I’m not good at the whole ’no expectations’ thing. I told him it was OK and I just wanted to have a good time for a night, but when it was time to say goodbye, I was sad. I wanted there to be a next time.”
“God, I used to be great at the no-expectations-sex thing. But you know what? I’ve learned to embrace the expectations. I don’t always live up to them and neither does Quinn, but we try and we forgive and we make it up to each other. There’s something to be said for that give and take. Don’t feel bad for wanting it.”
“I guess I don’t.” I tried to find the bright side. “I had fun. That’s more than I expected. And what happened between us didn’t have to mean everything, I only wish it had meant something.”
“I’m sorry. Want to hang out this afternoon? Go shopping? See a movie or something?”
“Actually, I have some things around the house I need to work on today. Maybe tonight?”
“I’m having dinner with Quinn tonight. He’s cooking.”
“Oh.” Of course she was. Saturday night was for boyfriends.
“Why don’t you join us? He’s making pierogi,” she said temptingly.
“No, thanks. Quinn’s cooking is always delicious, but I’ll just be in the way.”
“Claire, come on. You’re always welcome here. And I hate to think of you alone and sad.”
“Really, I’m fine,” I said, although I wasn’t, not really. I felt oddly close to tears, in fact. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do today. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
“Invitation is always open if you change your mind.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“OK. Bye.”
I hung up and set the phone down, then took a deep breath and a big gulp of hot coffee to keep my cool. No need to cry over this disappointment. I still had friends and family and the house to work on, and maybe later I’d paint or sketch a little. That always made me feel better.
* * *
After two cups of coffee and a blueberry muffin, I threw on some old clothes, put my hair up, and tackled the kitchen cabinets. I had the next two weeks off school for winter break, and I planned to spend as much time as possible working on the house.
Luckily the kitchen wasn’t too big, so there were only eight doors. I liked the original finish on the wood, but it was faded and speckled. My mother had tried to talk me into painting them white to create a brighter kitchen (as well as hiring someone to do the work), but a dark stain felt more authentic to me. I didn’t mind that the kitchen wasn’t bright—its earth tones were warm and natural. Plus I was planning to lay a light-colored tile on the floor, and that would brighten things a little.
After laying an old sheet down in the empty dining room, I took the cabinet doors off and set them on top of the sheet. Then I took everything out of the cupboards and washed out the insides. After that, I removed the hardware and cleaned the doors and facing with a mixture of TSP and water. While I waited for them to dry, I did some laundry, changed the sheets on my bed, and cleaned the bathroom.
Despite the fact that I was trying to use the work as a distraction, Theo was constantly present in my mind. Maybe because he’d offered to work on the cabinets last night or because we’d spent so much time in the kitchen, or maybe just because I was still bummed about never seeing him again when we’d had so much fun. I kept picturing his smile, his chest, his hands. Hearing his laugh. Tasting his kiss. Feeling his hands in my hair.
Get over it, Claire. Quit thinking about him.
But as I sanded and dusted the cupboards, I thought about his offer to fix the crooked ones last night. When I mixed an ounce of the stain into a gallon of varnish and painted it on, the color reminded me of his eyes, dark and shiny. And when I applied a coat to the cabinet facing, I stood right where I had last night and thought, Right here. This is where I stood when he pulled my hair and whispered in my ear and made me come so hard my knees buckled.