Page 11 of Coming Around Again

He’d sighed, and capitulated. “Okay. But…if somebody does find out, it’s not that big a deal. You’re not going to be a maid forever. You’re going to college.”

“I’m not rich like you.”

Desmond had looked embarrassed. “Doesn’t matter. I know you, and you’re amazing.”

I believed him. Then. He was funny and sweet and thoughtful, and I only had to look at him to want to touch him, and I knew he wanted to touch me too.

On one of my days off, when I knew Mom would be too busy at the office to come back home, I snuck him into my bed. By then, we’d already learned the joys of what they used to call “dry humping.” By then, we’d learned what would make the other person feel good.

By then, I knew what more I wanted. What we both wanted.

He’d managed to get some condoms, and we read the instructions carefully, like good students focused on our futures. And then when things got really going, when we were naked and the sunlight sneaking in past my blinds was dappling both our bodies with yellow streaks and dots, we almost forgot. It felt so good. Hard and soft, slick and solid, everything right.

Once we figured out the condoms, nobody had to tell us what to do. The whole summer, we did what we wanted. I didn’t pretend to be a porn star, and he didn’t pretend he had more experience than he did. We listened to each other. We touched, and watched each other’s faces. He figured out how to make me come.

We took our time. We took every opportunity we got. We were lost in each other.

We started talking about the future.

We started saying things like “maybe you can come see me at college.”

We started saying things like “you should meet my parents.”

We started saying words like “love” and “forever” and “fated.”

And then, with a week left before he was scheduled to check out and go back to Pittsburgh… he just disappeared. No message at the hotel for me. He didn’t answer his phone. No social media presence.

I lost him.

And I’ve never been the same.

I don’t know how I’m going to face him at work.

6

DESMOND

My heart’s pounding as I take the stairs down one flight just before the end of the day. I need to talk to Naya, outside work. I figure the best time to catch her is when she’s finished working and ready to leave.

It’s 4:58 p.m. and she’s still at her desk, head down, working. I have a word with Michelle about the analyses I’ll need by next week, and she says Naya’s already working on them. I thank her, tell her to have a nice night as she signs off her computer and gathers her things.

I walk to Naya’s work station. She’s either ignoring me, or so deep into her task that she hasn’t noticed me, so I clear my throat. “Naya, do you have a minute?”

Be cool, Des. Be fucking cool. Don’t get a hard-on.

She looks up, and it’s immediately clear that she has indeed been working, because she’s startled. Her pupils contract. “Desmond,” she says, and her voice is breathy. She swallows.

“Could we…maybe talk privately?” I remind myself to breathe. “Outside work, I think. We could grab some dinner.”

She takes her hands off her keyboard and looks down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Breathe, fuckhead. “I think if we’re going to work together, we need to clear the decks. I have questions.”

She looks confused. “You have questions.”

My turn for confusion. “Yeah. I do.”

This time she looks up, into my eyes, and our gazes hold for what feels like a long time. “Okay,” she finally says. “Maybe we should talk.” She signs out, then picks up her purse. “Where should we go? I’m not sure it’s a good idea for people to see us leave together. Or eat out together.”

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