Page 81 of The Now in Forever
“Starving.” Taking the bag to the kitchen, I get plates out. I open the plastic clamshell containers; one is tofu pad Thai, and the other is cashew chicken. I scoop some of each onto two separate plates as Ed opens the wine.
“Should we eat outside?”
I nod.
Ed flips a switch and turns on the string of Edison bulb lights. They twinkle on the water of the pool as stars start to appear in the dusky sky.
We both have a seat at the small glass table. Ed takes a big gulp of wine then sighs. “I’m sorry about the coffee shop. You surprised me.”
“That was kind of the point.”
“I was working.”
My shoulders slump. “I didn’t know. And I had no idea you’d be atthatcoffee shop. I just wanted a latte. I tried to surprise you at the house, but you weren’t here, and then I’d come all this way, it seemed silly to text when the whole point was to surprise you face to face. It was supposed to be nice.”
Ed smiles, but it’s strained. “It was. It is. I’m thrilled you’re here. Really. I’m also just swamped. I have to meet with Guy again tomorrow to go over the outline for the script.”
I set my fork down and pick up my wine. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone. My flight leaves early.”
“You’re leaving already?”
Heat rises through my arms, settling at my shoulders, hiking them up. “Yes, Ed, I’m leaving. You clearly don’t want me here, so I changed my flight. I can book a hotel room and go right now. Leave you to your work.”
Exchanging my wine for my phone, I pull up Booking.
“Don’t get a hotel.” Ed stands and comes over, kneeling in front of me on the concrete. “I’m being a dick.”
I frown. “Yeah, you are.”
He turns my chair to face him and grabs my hands. His eyes are so intense, they practically glow in the reflection of the lights. “I’m out ofmy depth here. These people. Guy, he’s intense. What if I’m not good enough? What if he sees right through me and finds out that I’m just some punk who fucks around with a laptop every now and then? He’s going to fire me. He?—”
My heart sinks for him. I cup his face in my hands. “Ed, it’s your story. Who better to write it than you? You’re good enough.”
He freezes but doesn’t respond. I say it again. “Edgar Allen DeArmas, you are good enough.”
A smile cracks his serious face. “Still not my middle name.”
He leans his head into my hand then turns his face toward it, kissing my palm.
My thighs are jelly.
When he turns his face back to me, I lean down and kiss him, his lips soft and a little sweet from the wine. His jaw is strong and prickly with stubble under my fingers. We pull apart, and he helps me to my feet then picks me up in one fell swoop.
He carries me inside to the bedroom.
We explore each other in a slow, unhurried way like we have all the time in the world, when both of us know that’s absolutely not the case.
Afterwards, the summer night breeze drifts in through the window, skimming my skin. I lie awake for a long time, too wired to sleep.
How is this ever going to work? Does Ed even want it to? Or is this just another summer distraction, to be forgotten in a few years' time?
I must eventually drift off, because I’m awoken in the middle of the night by Ed reaching for me, planting a soft, warm kiss on my lips. It’s sweet and a little sleepy, almost like a dream. He runs his hand down the length of my body. We make love in a dream-like haze. After we both come, me more than once, he holds me, and we stay like that for a while. Him the big spoon to my little spoon.
After a few minutes, I take his hand in mine but don’t turn around. “I’ve had some interviews recently.”
“Anything promising?”
I trace each tattooed letter on his fingers. “Yeah, maybe. I think thatmiddle school in New Haven might offer me the position. And there’s a private school in Portland.”
