Anna
Whenever I finished a run, I looked like I’d escaped a kidnapping attempt—red faced, sweaty, hair everywhere. Ethan on the other hand, looked like he was mid-way through a Gucci photo-shoot when he got back to the flat. He was all tan with a slight sheen to his skin that made him look all the more male. I was desperate to jump his bones. In fact, I’d been desperate before his run, but he’d seemed determined to exercise—a desire that never seemed to grip me, unfortunately.
“So, I thought we could go to the Met, or the Guggenheim,” Ethan said, breaking me from my haze of lust as he got dressed after his shower.
“Sounds good.”
“You don’t sound enthusiastic?”
“I am, I’ll get my stuff.” This was good. Normal things that normal couples did. I just couldn’t get enough of him, I wanted to drag him back to bed.
“Okay, I need to make a phone call, so I’ll be a few minutes.” He worked so hard but it was kinda hot. I liked his drive and determination.
I was rooting through my case when Ethan came into the bedroom.
“I’ll clear out my crap when you’re back in London, but there are some drawers free in the closet. Why don’t you unpack properly?”
My stomach flipped and I bit back a grin. There were some things I brought with me that I could leave. A couple of dresses and a pair of shoes at least. “Okay, I will, later.”
“Are you ready?”
I nodded as I pulled on my hat and followed Ethan out to the hallway with my boots in my hand.
“Fuck me, I didn’t realize you owned flat shoes. I’ve never seen you in anything other than heels, or naked. Sometimes in heels and naked.”
“You see, this is when reality sets in. Real life starts right here, with my flats. It’s not all nakedness and high heels, baby. Are you ready? Ready for taking out the garbage and buying me tampons? Ready for seeing me puking up and not wanting sex? I might wax my top lip tonight—are you ready for that?”
Ethan was laughing at me as I prodded his rock-hard stomach. “You’re fucking crazy and I’m more than ready. Come on shorty.”
“You see, I used to be beautiful and now I’m shorty and I’ve not even moved in yet.” I sighed dramatically as I followed him out of his building.
“You’ll always be beautiful, baby,” he said, snaking his arm around my neck and resting it on my shoulders.
He went to hail a cab, but I stopped him. “No, I want to take the subway.”
“Seriously? I’ve not taken the subway in a decade. It’s disgusting down there.” He winced as if he was in pain.
“Don’t be a baby. I’ve never done it and I have to do all the things you would expect a New Yorker to do.”
“Really?”
“Really. We have to do the unglamorous day-to-day stuff, Ethan. It’s good for us.”
“Okay, you get the subway and I’ll get a cab and meet you there. That feels like a day-to-day compromise.”
We stood on the sidewalk laughing at each other. “Oh baby, when did I say anything about compromise? Come on, we’re going on the subway.” I dragged the sleeve of his coat and started walking. He reluctantly followed.
“You know we’re going in the wrong direction for the subway.”
“Ethan!”
He grabbed me by my waist and kissed me hard.
* * * * *
“What was your favorite bit of the day?” I asked Ethan as we got home from several hours at the Met and what Ethan described as a reconnaissance trip of the Guggenheim.
“What do you mean? The day’s not over and I enjoyed all of it.”
“I’ve done favorite things since I was a kid, play with me,” I said. “What was your favorite bit, the favorite thing you saw or step you took or conversation you had.”
“Let me think. Just one?”
“We used to do top three.”
“Okay, my favorite three things of today . . . one, I like that I got to see you in flats.”
I grinned at him. Was he serious? Flat shoes sucked.
“And then I liked how I got to kiss you in the street.”
“Ethan! We’ve just seen some of the most beautiful art ever to have been created. Your top three things of the day can’t all be about me.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you get to choose, or do I get to choose?”
“I want a no-bullshit response.”
“The other two were no-bullshit responses, Anna. I won’t lie to you.”
“Okay.”
“The last of my top three is a painting. The Velasquez. The one of his Moor slave. It’s my favorite in there. I feel like he’s trying to tell me something from the canvas. How he captured that is incredible.”
His eyes softened as he spoke, but his face was serious.
“You like art?” I asked.
“What is fascinating about it was that it was a practice run for Velasquez’s portrait of the Pope at the time. He was just prepping and that’s what he came up with. Fucking brilliant.”
“Have you been to Madrid? To see, you know, the one that Picasso did as well . . .”
“Las Meninas.” He finished my sentence for me and looked at me as he nodded. There was something different in his eyes. “You like art?” he asked my question back to me.
“A bit. I’m spoiled in London, there’s so much. I like baroque stuff—Caravaggio, Rubens and your man Velasquez. Did you get to see the Boy Bitten by a Lizard when you were in London? God, I love that painting. It’s tiny, but wild.” I caught myself making shapes in the air with my hands and quickly dropped my arms self-consciously. I looked across at Ethan to see if he had that ‘is she crazy?’ look on his face that he sometimes wore.
“You couldn’t be any more beautiful to me than you are right now, Anna,” he said as our eyes met.
My cheeks heated and he closed the distance between us and slid his arms around my waist.
“Can we stay in tonight?” I asked. “Unless you had plans? I’d just like to be with you tonight.”
“That sounds perfect.”
He skimmed his hands down my back and began to harden against my stomach.
“Me talking about gay boys and lizards gets you hot?”
“Anna,” he growled in that disapproving tone he had that always made me laugh. He cupped my ass in his hands and he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around him. “Come on, pretty monkey.”