After successfully battling the urge to call Charlie after Thanksgiving weekend, I was thrilled when he texted me the first Monday in December, asking if I wanted to meet for coffee the next morning.
We met at the Starbucks by me at ten thirty, just after I taught an adult ballet class and before he had to be at work. When I saw him waiting for me near the entrance, my heartbeat quickened, which I decided was a sexual reaction rather than an emotional one. Of course, I refrained from hugging him hello, although I wanted to. It annoyed me how much I wanted to.
We ordered drinks and found a table by the window. “You could have woken me to say goodbye on Friday night, silly,” I said.
Charlie grinned as he shrugged out of his coat. “I tried, I swear. You were out cold.”
“Really?” I wrinkled my nose. “Sorry. I am kind of a heavy sleeper, I guess.”
“Back or stomach?”
I tilted my head, confused. “What?”
“Do you like to sleep on your back or stomach?”
“Oh. Neither. I’m a side sleeper. And I have this body pillow thing I like to hug.”
Charlie thought that was funny.
“What?” I said indignantly.
“Nothing. That’s cute. You’re a cuddler, even when you sleep.”
“I guess so.” I’d never really thought about it. I’d spent plenty of nights with my exes, but I didn’t remember cuddling much. Now if Charlie spent the night… No. Stop that. No night-spending¸ no cuddling, no feelings.
“Why are you frowning?” Charlie sipped his black coffee and set it down.
“Was I? Sorry. I was just thinking about my exes.” That was sort of the truth.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Do tell. Expert cuddlers, were they?”
“Honestly I don’t remember. It’s been a while. The first guy was my college boyfriend—he turned out to be gay, actually.”
“You turned a man gay?”
I gave him a murderous look. “No. He was already gay, thank you. He said he liked women too, but in the end decided he liked men more. He said when he met me it was maybe fifty-fifty, but after we dated for a while he knew it was more like ninety ten.”
“See? You did turn him gay.”
I wadded up my napkin and threw it at him. “Shut up, I did not.”
“Come on, Erin. I’m only teasing. If he wasn’t attracted enough to a girl like you, he clearly preferred men.”
“Thank you. I think.” Did that mean he still found me attractive? Wait, he’s looking at my chest. And now my lips! Good.
He made eye contact again. “So what about the other one?”
“The other one talked in his sleep so we didn’t actually spend that many nights together.” I wasn’t about to tell him that one became a priest. He’d have a field day with that. “So what about you?” I blew on my latte to cool it off. “Stomach or back?”
He picked up his coffee. “Back.”
Good. That’s perfect for straddling, which I happen to be good at since I’m flexible. “And let me guess—you’re not a cuddler when you sleep.”
“I told you, I don’t spend the night with women, since it sends the wrong message,”—I rolled my eyes at this—“but as for cuddling, it’s a rare occasion, which is why you should feel extra honored that I invited you to cuddle with me the other night.”
I laughed, but secretly I did feel that way.
Later, he hugged me goodbye in the parking lot.
It wasn’t even awkward.
#
And then I didn’t hear from that asshole for over a week. Nine days, in fact, during which I thought about him way more than I should have. Pictured his body moving over mine. Imagined his voice in my ear, that voice. Fantasized about him surprising me in the shower. In the kitchen. In the car.
Pretty much everywhere.
I wanted to call him, but I still thought my plan to let him chase me was the best way to convince him I didn’t have any emotional attachment, even though we’d had sex.
Problem was, he wasn’t chasing me.
Meanwhile, I practically broke the Naughty Rabbit, I gave it such a demanding workout schedule.
Finally, he called.
It was a Thursday night. I’d gotten home late from the studio and was warming up some pasta for dinner when my phone rang. When I saw his number, my face broke into a wide smile and my insides danced, but I let it ring another five seconds before picking it up. “Hello?”
“What size shoe do you wear?”
“I’m fine, thanks. And how have you been?”
“Sorry. How are you?”
“Great.” God, I loved the sound of his voice. When had that happened? It wasn’t even that voice.
“Good, me too. Now what size shoe?”
I sighed in exasperation. “Seven. Why?”
“I’m buying you a Christmas present.”
“You’re buying me shoes?” Immediately I pictured sky-high platform stilettos in red patent leather.
He laughed, and the sound warmed me all over. “Not exactly. Are you busy Saturday?”
“I have to be at the studio until one.”
“After that, then. I’ll pick you up.”
What was this? A date? “OK. What are we doing?”
“It’s a surprise. Dress warmly.”
Suddenly it added up. “Wait a minute. You’re not really going to make me go skating are you?”
“Be ready at two.”
“Hold it, are we—”
“Bye.” He ended the call.
“Ugh, you big jerk.” Sighing, I punched end on my phone and dialed Coco.
“Hello?”
“Hi. I just got a call from Charlie.” I pulled my plate out of the microwave, set it on the island and grabbed a fork.
“Ooooh. What’s up?”
“He’s being all cryptic about it, but I think he wants to take me skating on Saturday.”
“Fun!”
I grimaced, forking some penne with more vehemence than necessary. “Not if you’re me.” God, couldn’t we just skip the friendly activity bit and get right to the no-strings sex?
“Do you even have skates?”
“No. I think he’s buying me a pair. For Christmas or something.” I shoved some pasta in my mouth.
“That’s so sweet!”
“I know, but now I have to buy him something, don’t I? And what is this? Are we friends or something more? I’m frustrated. I can’t get a read on him.”
“You sound frustrated. Listen, don’t worry about what it is. Just have fun with him. Do what you want to do. And don’t worry about painting Saturday, either, I think we might finish tonight anyway. God, I can’t believe the wedding is next weekend. It’s insane.”
I reached for my wine. “Are you ready?”
“Who knows? I mean, I think so. But Mia’s so out of it with the pregnancy and everything, I just hope we haven’t forgotten stuff.”
“You haven’t. You guys could plan a wedding in your sleep.” Mia was a little out of it, but who could blame her? Lucas, as we expected, had been shocked but thrilled by the news of her pregnancy. Now it was hard to tell which of them was more excited.
“Sleep, what’s that? I feel like I haven’t slept in days. Hold on, Erin. Nick, don’t you dare set that hammer on top of the programs. And don’t run away from me either, we have to figure out the parking thing.”
I smiled. “I’ll let you go. I just wanted to ask you if it was OK if I didn’t come over to paint Saturday.”
“Totally fine,” she assured me. “Call me, though, and let me know how it went. And don’t forget, if you want to bring him to the wedding, it’s no problem.”
“I don’t, but thanks.” Inviting Charlie to the wedding seemed like too girlfriendly a move. He might take that the wrong way. I wanted to show him that I could handle casual sex since I’d spoken out against it before, and I had to do it in a way that left no doubt as to my expectations.
Coco’s words rang out in my head. Just have fun with him. Do what you want to do.
Seduce him. That’s what I wanted to do. Then I laughed a little. The question was, what didn’t I want to do with him?
I couldn’t think of one thing.
#
Skating. That was one thing.
“Oh God. Do I have to?” I stood at the side of the ice rink in Campus Martius, watching little children in snow pants glide easily over the smooth, glassy surface. I had no illusions I would be either that skilled or that cute. My feet were tightly laced into the skates Charlie had bought for me, even though I’d prayed they wouldn’t fit. “I should have worn snow pants. My butt needs more cushioning.”
“Jesus, do you want a helmet too? You don’t need snow pants. Come on.” Charlie took my gloved hand and dragged me out on the ice, and I stiffened my legs into tree trunks and let him pull me along like a toy. “You have to move your feet to skate, Erin. Like this.” He dropped my hand and skated away from me, his legs stroking out to the sides slowly and surely. I scrambled over to the wall, barely making it without going down. This was so not the way to appear sexy, carefree, and fun.
Of course Charlie was a beautiful skater, making it look smooth and effortless. He even stopped on a dime to help a little girl up that fell right in front of him, brushing off her snow pants and jacket and setting her on her little skates again. It was such a sweet thing to do, and it looked so natural on him, I had to squint and make sure it was actually Charlie. He watched her waddle away on double blades and made his way back to me.
“That was nice of you,” I said.
He shrugged. “I’m a nice guy sometimes.”
“Ask that girl what she wants for those double blade things. I need them.”
“No, you don’t. Come on,” he coaxed. “Try coming off the wall.”
“No.” But I glanced at some of the kids along the wall in front of me and saw that they were moving along OK doing something more like marching, so I held on and tried that, praying I didn’t look as goofy as I felt. My seduction plans were rapidly unraveling here.
Charlie burst out laughing. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. You really are a horrible skater.”
“Shut up. I don’t like ice, OK? Hold my hand.”
He took my hand again and executed some slick little turn so he was facing me. Picking up my other hand, he said, “Put your skates a little closer together. Good. Now, push the right one out. No, don’t pick it up—push it out.”
I tried again. “Like that?”
“Yes, good. Now the other side.”
I pushed my left skate out. “Am I supposed to stay in plié the entire time?”
“What the fuck is a plié?”
“Do I keep my knees bent?”
“Oh. Then yes, you do. The entire time. That gives you more stability.”
I tried again and stumbled a little bit when my right skate got away from me, grasping his hands for dear life.
“You have to keep your toes forward, not out to the side.”
“Sorry. Too much ballet.” I concentrated on keeping my knees bent, legs and feet parallel, and pushed each foot out to the side again. “Like that?”
“Yes.” Charlie looked down at my feet. “Your ankles aren’t wobbly. That’s good.”
“Thanks.” I laughed, slowly getting the hang of it. “As long as you don’t let me go, I think I can manage not to embarrass myself too badly.”
“I won’t let you go. For at least five minutes,” he teased.
We spent about an hour on the ice, and I only fell once—right on my tailbone when some insane kid skating way too fast got way too close and I attempted to dash sideways to stay out of his way. Charlie helped me up and brushed off my butt, assuring me that falling on my ass was much less embarrassing than falling on my face. “It’s only like a seven on the humiliation scale,” he said. “And I’m sure those people over there aren’t laughing at you.”
Oh, Jesus. Well, at least he was touching my butt. And was his hand lingering a little longer than necessary? Maybe I could give seduction one more shot—off this damn ice. On my feet again, I gave Charlie a plaintive look. “Can we please be done now? I want my hot chocolate.”
He tugged my slouchy knit hat down lower on my head. “You’re hopeless. Good thing you’re adorable.”
“You’re mean. Good thing you have a big dick.”
Charlie looked surprised for a second, and I panicked I’d gone too far. But then he grinned and took my hand. “Come on, let’s go. You earned your hot chocolate.” He pulled me over to the side and I managed to get off the ice without falling. We swapped our skates for shoes, and I was never so grateful to feel the ground under my boots. Carrying our skates, we walked over to the Urban Bean Co. on Griswold and Grand River, where I ordered a specialty hot chocolate that had banana and coconut in it. Charlie rolled his eyes and ordered plain old coffee.
We sat at a table by the window, and I pulled off my gloves and hat. Charlie’s ears were red from the cold. “You should wear a hat,” I told him.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“OK, fine. Don’t wear a hat. Have cold ears.”
“It’s not even that cold out.”
“Are you kidding? It’s like thirty! That’s freezing.” I touched my nose. “My nose is frozen. I can’t even feel it.”
“It’s red, too. You look like Rudolph.”
I frowned. Rudolph was not sexy. “Thanks. So what are you doing for Christmas? Heading back to Iowa?”
He looked out the window. “Not sure yet. I’d like to see my folks, but I have to work quite a bit too. I think I have Christmas Eve off, but not Christmas Day.”
“Oh. That stinks.” I blew on my hot chocolate to cool it off. “Will you spend Christmas Eve with your grandfather then?”
He shrugged and picked up his coffee. “Maybe.” Something was odd about the way he wouldn’t meet my eyes, but I dismissed it. Maybe he was one of those people who didn’t like the holidays because they were too Hallmark touchy-feely. “What about you?” he asked.
“We usually go to my mom’s for dinner and then go to midnight mass somewhere.”
He smiled. “Ah, yes. Midnight mass. When people who ignore Jesus throughout the year dress up, fight for parking spots, elbow for pew space and face time with the priest, and mumble their way through the prayers they barely remember from last year. Or from Easter.”
I shrugged. “Pretty much. But it’s important to my mom, so we go. Hey, thank you for the skates. My first Christmas gift this year.”
“You’re welcome. They felt OK?”
“Yes. And skating wasn’t even that horrible.” I took a tiny sip of my drink. “Actually, it was almost fun.” Know what else is fun?
“See? You’re broadening your horizons.”
“Yes. Just like you’re going to broaden yours at the ballet.” The idea had come to me while we were skating.
“What ballet?”
“The one I’m going to take you to. The Nutcracker.”
He nearly choked. “The whatcracker?”
At his look of dismay, I leaned forward and pointed at him. “Listen, pal, you’re lucky I’m not going to make you take a ballet class after you made me take a public skating lesson. How’d you like a pair of ballet slippers for Christmas?”
He held up his hands. “Fine. I’ll go to the ballet. Is it in English?”
“There’s no talking in ballet.”
“Can I nap?”
“No. You can watch and appreciate.”
He didn’t look too sure about that.
I picked up my cup and warmed my hands around it. “You never know, you might like it. The dancers wear short skirts.”
“Will you wear a short skirt?”
“Hush,” I admonished, but then I winked. “We’re being friends today, remember?”
Grinning, he leaned closer to me and spoke quietly. “Hey, I wasn’t the one who made a reference to my big dick earlier.”
I lifted my shoulders in a way that showed I didn’t care. “Oops.”
“I didn’t mind.”
“Yes, I noticed that.” Picking up my cup, I took a sip, then licked up some whipped cream in what I hoped was an alluring, sensual move that did not end with anything on my nose.
Charlie smiled and sat back. “I’ve missed you this last week.”
That surprised me. “You have?”
“Yes. You didn’t miss me?”
Of course I did. Especially your magic parts. “Maybe a little.”
“And I’m really happy to be out with you. I always have fun when we’re together.”
“Me too.” We should fuck.
“Should we grab dinner maybe? I think this place closes at five, and it’s getting close.”
“Sure.” And then we should fuck.
“Feel like pizza? I’ve got an idea.”
“Sounds great.” I finished my hot chocolate, we piled on our winter gear and headed out.
On our way back to Campus Martius, I congratulated myself on being a little flirty and a little dirty without going overboard. I had to play this exactly right if I wanted him to know it was OK to touch me tonight, even though this wasn’t a date.
Which was why I was surprised when Charlie picked up my hand and held it as we walked back through Campus Martius, darkness falling faster than the snow flurries drifting down around us. Here I was trying to be all no-strings, and he was the one saying he missed me and being all romantic. I lifted our hands and goggled at them.
“You want to hold my hand?” I teased. “Isn’t that, like, a gesture of affection that is nonsexual?”
Charlie looked pleased with himself. “It is. I think I’m growing as a person, being friends with you.”
“Oh, good. We’re still friends. I was just checking to make sure this didn’t turn into, you know…” I wrinkled my nose. “A date.”
“What? No.” He elbowed me. “I don’t date.”
“No, no. Of course not.”
“Hey, look. The tree lights are on.”
We stopped to look at the city’s towering evergreen Christmas tree, lit with thousands of multi-colored lights. I shivered, and Charlie pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “Cold?” he asked.
“Uh…a little.” OK, what the hell was he doing now? This didn’t seem like just friends territory. Then again, I was new to this fuck friend thing. Maybe in addition to the main course, you got a few side dishes too, like holding hands and the occasional cuddle. It was nice, actually. I leaned back against him, and he gave me a squeeze.
“Thanks for coming skating. I know you didn’t want to.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And I’m sorry I didn’t call you last weekend. I wanted to.”
I froze. What what what? He was apologizing for not calling me? “That’s OK. I wasn’t expecting you to.”
“I know you weren’t.”
I swallowed. Don’t be sweet to me, Charlie. You’ll ruin everything. “Should we go eat?”