Nora
When we exit the Ferris wheel, Liam takes my hand again and laces his fingers through mine. I have never been a ride person, but Liam seems to understand what I will enjoy. I think once, when I was little, I rode a Ferris wheel, but that was so long ago, I had forgotten the fun of it. The sensation of being in the air. The breeze across my collarbone. The view from the top. How all the people below look like little ants furiously moving about. I liked the way Liam’s arm felt slung around my shoulders. The scent of him mixed with fresh air.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” I say.
He grins at me and tugs my hand. The fair grounds are crowded and it sets me on edge. The cacophony. The bodies and eyes all vying for space. I am relieved when he leads me along the path that follows the river. Only the occasional lamp light illuminates our walk. The lights and noise of the fair are distant now as he leads me up a small berm. We aren’t too far from my yoga studio when he stops and pulls me flush against his chest. I peer up at him.
“Look,” he says. He is staring at the sky. Occasional thick clouds make the otherwise clear sky look ominous. I inhale sharply. The night sky is glorious. It makes me miss the mountain. I push away from him and lie prone in the grass. The sky is full of pinprick sparkles. Glitter. Stars. My stars. Holden’s stars. I close my eyes and let Holden drift from my thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” Liam asks.
“The past, I guess.” I wonder briefly if Liam craves nature and silence the way I do.
“Sounds dangerous.”
I roll my head to the side and face him. “It is.”
“Know any good words for the past?”
“Not that mean, ‘the past’ but to describe mine, sure. Tristful, hiraeth, exulansis.”
Liam chuckles. “Sorry I asked. I have no idea what any of those mean.”
“Your homework is to remember them long enough to look them up.”
“I’ve already forgotten them,” he admits.
“You’re the worst,” I say and laugh. His arm snakes under my head and I allow myself to snuggle into his side. Rest my head on his chest. His fingers massage my scalp. His heartbeat thumps steadily in my ear. His breath moves in and out rhythmically. Could this be real? I wonder what kind of life we could have together. Is that bad? Do all women do this? Is vorfreude common or am I again fixating on something unhealthy. Would he understand my needs wholly and without judgment? If I let him in, will he respect my ups and downs? Rubatosis sneaks up on me. If Liam notices, he does not make a show of it. He plays with my hair. My elastic is long gone. My braid undone. His fingers comb through my locks gently. He does this until I am no longer aware of my pulse. Of my heartbeat. It is only his in my ear again. I clench my thighs together to alleviate the sensation building there.
“What’s going on in here?” he says and taps my noggin.
“Apodyopsis,” I say. I know he will not know that word and I like that I can tell the truth without embarrassment or repercussion.
“I find it highly unfair that you use big words to throw me off.” He finagles his phone from his pocket. The light from the screen makes me squint. I realize too late what he is doing. I try to swat the phone from his hands with a little huff.
“Oh, no, Nora, I’m onto you,” he says. I flop, rather ungracefully, atop him but he moves his hand, clutching his phone, just out of my reach. He holds me back with an arm across my collarbone and makes a show of clearing his throat. “Eh hem, Apodyopsis. To mentally undress someone. My, my, my, Nora.” His tone is mischievous. There is a devilish glint in his eye as I freeze above him. I bite back a smile and roll off him.
“I’m not perfect. But I do use sex as a way to not have to deal with certain things. So, although I may be mentally undressing you, I expect you, as the gracious gentleman you are, to know that mentally undressing is as far as I will take it right now. If I attempt to sway you further, you must, and I mean must, tell me no. It is imperative for the success of our potential relationship.” I cross my arms over my chest.
Liam laughs. It is loud and hardy and I cannot keep my serious face.
“You expect me, a red blooded man, to turn you down?” he asks. I bite my bottom lip to stifle my grin and give him a look. “You drive a nearly impossible deal, Nora, you know that?”
“I’ve thought many times that perhaps my expectations are too high.”
“I’ll do my best to keep my filthy paws off you,” he says.
I beam at him. “That is excellent news.”
“You will have to be clear though. What exactly are the rules of this game?”
Rules. I never thought of setting rules. I prop myself up on an elbow and take in his defined jaw line; one I’d like to kiss, his shapely lips; ones I’d like to bite, his chest as it rises and falls; a chest I’d like to feel against mine.
“I suppose, kissing is okay. People dating kiss, yes?”
“Definitely,” he says.
“Handholding is okay, too.”
“Can I make you come?” he asks. My jaw drops.
I gasp. “Excuse me?”
“If I promise to keep you dressed. If I promise to not touch you anywhere intimate. Can I make you come?”
I give him a curious look. He is up to something. “How is that even possible?”
“I will show you. But not tonight,” he says. I fear the sensation of his fingers on my skin have lulled me into a false comfort as they stoke gently.
“No sex?” I ask.
“No. No sex. No naked bodies. No funny business either.”
“I feel compelled to say no, but I am so intrigued, that I am going to say yes. I will allow it.”
Liam laughs loudly. “Excellent.” I drop back down, flat on my back and stare at the sky. “I love the skyline. I love stars. I miss the peacefulness.” He stops abruptly.
I look to him. “The peacefulness of what?”
“Nothing. Of nature, you know.” But that is not what he meant. I can see it in the set of his jaw. He has made a mistake of some sort. Doled out more than he was willing; but of what, I do not know.
***
Liam
Nora is currently ass up, face down in her backyard. Some yoga pose. She flows in and out of poses effortlessly. Her sports bra and leggings cover little. My imagination runs rampant. I am crouched like a lovesick fool in the brush between her yard and the neighbors’, watching her. We have a date tonight. At my place. I offered to come to her but she refused. It has become apparent that Nora does not let people into her house often. I make a note to learn the names of some yoga poses for tonight. She ends up on her back, like a corpse staring upward. She is so still, it is difficult to tell if she is even breathing from this distance. Finally, she moves. Stands, surveys the yard with hands on hips and heads inside, wiping sweat from her brow. I push through the bushes and through her backyard. Her head bobs past one window, then the next. I peek inside.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I reach for it, check the caller ID—work—and accept. “Hello,” I say softly. “Mr. Lockwood.” It’s Mara, my assistant.
“Yes,” I say, still looking through the window. She’s in the bathroom, stripping naked.
“You have a meeting this afternoon and it’s almost one. I just wanted to see if you’d like me to cancel or reschedule?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I’ll be in.” I end the call and put my phone back in my pocket. I move left for a better view. Nora’s got her eyes closed as water flows down her face, breasts and hips. If she opened them right now, she’d see me. But she doesn’t. A frisson of excitement sweeps through me. “Fuck,” I whisper, as I unzip my pants. I pull out my cock and let my hand slide up and down in long, slow strokes. I promised her no sex until she says so, but I never agreed to not please myself in the meantime. My hand pumps my cock as I play a singular scene over and over in my head of her pleasing me. The way her nails would feel. The crack of her palm against my face. I try to make it perfect. And when it is, I come in silence outside her bathroom window shrouded by the trees and bushes in her backyard away from neighbors’ eyes.
I pull a tissue from my pocket and clean myself up before tucking my cock away. The shower water is cut. I can hear her humming softly through the cracked window. I step out of sight and lean my ear toward the window. It is one of the songs from my playlist, the night we fucked. A grin spreads across my face. I move through the backyard brush like a ghost. I cut up through the neighbors’ bushes to the side street where my car is parked.
***
Mike swings by at ten of five, just as I am packing up to leave for the day Normally, I would be happy to see him, but tonight I just want to get back to my house.
“Yo homie. What’s up?” Mike says.
“Headed home. Why?”
“The Blackies miss you.” His polo shirt collar is popped and he’s wearing sneakers. He must have just come back from a flight.
“If by Blackies you mean you ... I’m not concerned,” I say.
“Not just me,” he says and plants his ass on the corner of my desk.
I sigh. “Candy doesn’t concern me either.”
“Since when, man?” He gives me a look just short of pleading. He wants information.
I shrug. “I don’t know, since Nora.”
“What is up with this chick? Anything I need to know about?”
“You sound like my father.”
Mike cringes. He witnessed firsthand what my father could do when we were in high school. We’d been in the den playing video games. It was Thanksgiving break. Mike had finally pushed hard enough, and asked enough questions about my childhood, that I’d started to tell him about my mother, siblings, about the mountain. My father had burst through the door, belt in hand. He directed Mike to leave and me to kneel. We both obeyed. I got a beating and a harsh verbal reminder of why we were never to speak of our time on the mountain. Mike overheard just enough to know something was wrong. That us Lockwoods were harboring a secret of some sort, but he never asked me about my childhood again. He just motioned me to follow him when I exited the den. He drove us to his house.
“Nothing. And no. This isn’t a Candy situation. This is ... different. This is about my childhood,” I say.
Mike’s eyes snap to mine. “She’s not your sister or something is, she?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No. Just let me have her. I promise when I’m done with her, I will come back to you.”
Mike throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Fine, but listen, at least come to the club sometimes. It’s boring without my wingman.”
“Deal,” I say and slap his shoulder. “Now get the fuck out. I have a date tonight and need to get going.”
Mike stands and walks to the elevator with me. “Any chance you wanna share her for a little fun?”
I glare at him. “This one’s not for sharing.”
“Dude, relax. We always share.” He puts his hands up in surrender.
“Not this time,” I grit out.
“Whatever, man. Chill.” He shrugs as we enter the elevator. I push the parking level button as the doors close.
“I’m chill Mike. Just trust me this time. Nora’s different. She’s not a plaything like the others. She has a purpose.”
He jams his hands in his jean pockets. “So, tell me what that purpose is.”
“Can’t or I would,” I say.
He is quiet a moment and then, “Your dad’s been talking, Liam. None of it good.”
“Is that why you’re here? Did he send you?”
He pulls his hands from his pants, throws them in the air again. “No. I’d never do that. I’m just giving you a heads up. I’m just curious is all. If you’ve got your dad's blood pressure spiked, I wanna know what’s going on.”
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. “I’m just making amends. Getting a little closure for myself. Just keep your mouth shut and don’t talk to my father.”
“Alright man. You got it. But don’t disappear on me again for weeks on end.”
“Fine. Monday night, you and me at the club. Bring your hoe-of-the-week,” I say, then chuckle.
“Very funny,” he says and lifts a hand in lieu of saying goodbye.