Page 44 of Stacked
Given our kiss in the parking lot, I knew whatever happened that night would be more than friendship. We were far past that point now, our relationship morphing from business rivals to something intangible in the space of one charged, intense moment. I looked forward to seeing what that evening would be like and whether we’d pick up where we left off.
I woke around six after a nap, jumped in the shower, shaved, and threw on some cologne before changing into a pair of black slacks, a white polo shirt, and Sperry loafers. I selected a bottle of pinot grigio from the wine stash in my kitchen and hopped in my car to drive over to Anya’s address, which she had texted while I was napping. It wasn’t far from my place—less than ten minutes through a few winding side streets and the historic neighborhood around what counted as downtown New Burlington. As I drove, I listened to a mix of French house music and tried to flip through any number of scenarios about what might happen in the next few hours.
I pulled up to her house around seven and parked the car in her driveway. It was a small place but charming. I could tell from the outside that she’d put a lot of care into the upkeep—fresh paint on the outside siding, flower boxes of red and white geraniums hanging underneath the windows, a new blacktopped driveway, and careful landscaping of boxwood bushes in the front landscaping beds. Most of the houses in Anya’s neighborhood were well-kept and neat, but I knew as a single person this kind of care and feeding of a house wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish. As I got out of the car, I made a mental note to compliment her on her efforts.
Anya opened the front door as I ascended the steps to the small porch. “Hey there,” she said as she pushed open the screen door. “You didn’t back out.”
“No, I definitely didn’t.”
I handed her the wine as I stepped through the threshold, my breath hitching in my throat. She’d changed into a white sundress that hugged her body before flaring out from her hips, and the V-neckline made her breasts look round and large as they strained against the tight cotton fabric. A pair of long but tasteful gold earrings hung from her ears, and I had an immediate urge to run my fingers over them, to grip her neck to draw her toward me, and to take what I wanted. But instead, I cleared my throat.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I managed. “I hope you like this one. It’s from a little place in Sonoma Valley that I like. Been there a few times.”
She took the wine as the door closed behind me. “A few times?”
“Buddy of mine owns an Airbnb out there.” I laughed at how snobby that sounded as we moved into her house. Casually mentioning things like this went far in New York City, where every moment and every interaction of every day was like a competition, but this wasn’t Manhattan, and I wasn’t trying to one-up anyone. “Anyway... yeah. I’ve been a couple of times.”
“I’ve never been.”
Anya crossed the small front room and placed the wine bottle on a glass bar cart in the far corner, one angled next to the larger TV console. This was the kind of place where the front door opened right into the living space, which ran the width of the house before opening to a short hallway down the middle, and a staircase leading to the second floor peeked around a long hall table.
She’d decorated the front space well, in a sort of French shabby-chic style. Blue and white Provencal wallpaper covered the walls with reclaimed pieces that looked like they’d come from antique stores and a large couch I recognized from Ikea that somehow blended the mix of old and new. It was simple but cozy, and I complimented her on that as she led me to the couch and the matching chair beside it.
“Trust me, decorating this place wasn’t easy,” she admitted as she sank onto the couch. Not sure what I should do, I sat in the chair beside it. From here I was close, but nottooclose. “I had to get creative.”
“How?”
“For the first couple of months I lived here, I basically scoured every weekend flea market between here and Dayton, looking for deals, and during the week, I was always on Facebook Marketplace.”
“That place is dangerous if you’re looking for bargains.”
“But my apartment in Chicago was tiny. It was an efficiency apartment, so I pretty much had nothing.”
I regarded the room again, taking in the décor from my spot on the chair. “You did a nice job with this.”
“You don’t have to keep flattering me.”
I turned my attention back to her. “I’m not. It’s just the truth.”
She laughed to herself, and a hint of pink appeared on her cheeks as she gestured to the glass tray on the coffee table piled with cheese, sliced meat, vegetables, and a bowl of green goddess dip. “Are you hungry?”
“More than I thought.”
She leaned forward and handed me a blue plate from the stack next to the tray. “Help yourself. I have some chardonnay chilling if you would like that, or we can open the bottle you brought.”
“Let’s go with the chardonnay. White wine is always better when it’s chilled.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She stood from the couch and left the room, heading down the hallway to what I assumed was the kitchen. I chose a few pieces of cheese, meat, and vegetables and placed them on my plate, but I didn’t eat any of them. I wasn’t hungry yet.Well, not hungry for food, at least.
Anya returned a few moments later with two large wine glasses in each hand. She gave me one and resumed her place on the couch before holding up hers. “Cheers to your win.”
“Cheers,” I repeated, and we clinked glasses. After drinking some, I added, “I want to say again that I’m sorry that you didn’t place this year..”
She put her glass in an open space on the tray. “It just wasn’t supposed to happen.”
