Neanderthal Seeks Human

“Seriously, Janie-” she held me by the shoulders, “if this whole Wendell McHotpants situation has taught you anything it should be to embrace the fact that you are a total hottie and lots of people want to get in your underpants.”

I smacked her hands away and started for the door, “What are you doing this afternoon?”

“Me? Oh, I’m going to the gym then I have to go into work to do some charting.” She stretched and yawned. I knew she was on less than six hours of sleep; even so she’d insisted on waking up an hour before it was necessary so she could listen to the story about the Jon and Quinn dinner and the lets be friends discussion.

She said she was impressed with how I’d handled the situation and congratulated me for being courageous and honest even though I think she secretly wanted me to give into the temptation to become a short-term slamp to Quinn’s Wendell. She further pointed out that Quinn hadn’t agreed to the friend label.

She pointed it out several times.

But I had to cling to the label because, without it, I felt adrift on a boundless sea of unknowns. So, I bounced down the stairs, feeling excited about seeing my new friend Quinn. Yeah. That was it. My friend. Just my friend.

I exited the building and found him standing on the sidewalk, at the base of my steps. He was leaning against the bottom of the cement stair rail, presumably scanning messages on his cell phone. He was crazy handsome and I quietly sighed. Those were some lucky slamps. I put on my sunglasses.

The sun was brilliant and blinding; it was a perfect September day, maybe one of the last mild days before the beginning of October. He must have heard the door close behind me as he abruptly looked up from his phone to my position at the top of the stairs. He straightened and stood perfectly still.

I dug through my bag as I descended, “I know you said not to bring anything but I picked up some apples and peaches from the Sunday market.” I held out an apple to him, as proof, then tucked it back in my market bag.

He sighed, it sounded pained; “You’re not being very nice.” His voice was low and gravelly.

I scrunched up my face in response, “Oh come on. I can bring fruit. I’m allowed to bring fruit.” I poked him and he grabbed my hand.

“I’m not talking about the peaches.”

“You don’t like apples? You should. In 2010 they decoded its genome which led to new understandings of disease control and selective breeding in apple production. It really has wider ramifications to all-”

He stopped my mouth with a soft kiss, his hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me to him. I had the distinct impression I was being tasted in much the same way one would savor a peach. My traitor body immediately responded, again arching and pressing into his, and I kissed him back, tasting him in return. It was not a friend kiss; at least I’d never kissed a friend like that.

Quinn broke the kiss; rested his forehead against mine, and whispered, “Hi.”

I blinked up at him, my heart and my mind competing in an uphill foot-race, and managed a small, “Hi.” in return.

“I changed my mind about kissing you.”

“Well,” I licked my lips, a warm humming sensation was reverberating in my chest, “You did warn me.”

I didn’t have much to say in the car but found myself frequently tugging at my bottom lip. Quinn was driving; it was another of the black Mercedes and I wondered if it were a company car. The thought troubled me- that he would be using company property for our date.

Or non-date. Or Wendell-slampcapade. Whatever.

I allowed myself to worry about the use of the car as it gave me something on which to focus. He didn’t force any attempt at conversation, seemingly content to drive in silence. And, as confusing as it was, the silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It just was.

When we made it to the vicinity of the park he surprised me by parking in one of the sky-rise private lots. We pulled into the basement and to a numbered space. I shifted in my seat as he cut off the engine and glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

“Are we- do you live here?”

He quickly exited the car, rounding to my side. Before I could pull the latch Quinn opened my door in an unexpected, but not surprising, display of good manners. He reached out his hand to help me from the vehicle then didn’t return it. Rather, he laced his fingers through mine and tugged me toward the elevator. At this point I realized that I’d become rather accustom to the feel of his hand holding mine.

“Before we have our picnic I want to show you something.”

With no further explanation we waited for, then entered, the elevator. We stood next to each other, holding hands, as the elevator ascended. Everything about the moment struck me as odd, surreal, and I wondered how I’d arrived at this moment.

I brain-rewound and reviewed how I got here: it all really started that night, weeks ago, at the bar and the Saturday morning after. Fast-forward to last Wednesday, when he bumped into me at Smith’s. Then Thursday followed and the cell phone incident. Friday day was good, normal; then it wasn’t normal, but it was still good, and he kissed me, three times. Saturday was both clarifying and confusing.

Which brought me to Sunday, another kiss, and this moment, holding hands in the elevator.

Despite my best efforts I was now adrift in a labeless ocean of unknowns trying to find my sea legs with no map or figure with footnotes. I felt distinctly terrified and excited… and terrified.

Despite all my brain-rewinding the elevator trip was actually very short. The doors slid open to a long, plain white hallway with four doors. Plastic covered the marbled floor and it smelled heavily of paint. Quinn placed his hand on the base of my spine and ushered me out and to the end of the hall. He withdrew a set of keys and unlocked the door then, giving me a small but clearly expectant smile, motioned me in.

I hesitantly crossed the threshold, stepping onto ash colored hard wood floors and glanced around what I now recognized as a very, very nice apartment. It was unfurnished so the wood panels fanned out uninterrupted and crisscrossed with the horizontal spears of light emanating from three large floor to ceiling windows off the living room, which overlooked Millennium Park. I walked slowly into the large living space, toward the windows, and noted the height of the cathedral ceiling as I half spun. My footfalls were loud and reverberating. The walls were painted a plain white, as were the crown molding and baseboards.

“The kitchen is over here.” Quinn’s voice also echoed from my side; I followed where he led to a spacious, blue-grey marbled kitchen. All the appliances were stainless steel- double oven, gas range, dishwasher, giant fridge- except the sink which was white porcelain and huge. It was a kitchen that was meant to be used for cooking.

The kitchen looked a little sad without small appliances, cookbooks, and food littering the countertops, like a kid waiting to be picked for a dodge ball team.

After giving me a minute to survey the space he placed his palm on my back and gently led me to a hallway with two bedrooms beyond. They were very similar in size and both had ensuite bathrooms. The main difference was that the slightly larger of the two also had a view of the Park and the bathroom contained a cistern sized jacuzzi bathtub.

My eyes widened when I saw the tub. It was an impressive tub; I don’t think I’ll ever quite get over the sight of that tub and the images it conjured of me and my seventeen closest friends taking a bath together. I literally could have held knit-night in the tub.

Quinn seemed to sense I needed some time with the tub so he waited for me in the master bedroom. When I emerged I gave the tub one last longing look then turned my attention to Quinn.

Tub plus Quinn equaled Quinub or Tubinn. I decided Tubinn sounded more alluring; I let that thought wash over me: Tubinn with Quinn.

I didn’t even try to fight the blush that followed.

“Hey.” He was sitting on an inset window seat; I noted it could be used for storage.

“Hey.” I responded, letting out a slow breath, trying to find a subject other than Tubinn or the tub to discuss.

“What do you think?” He prompted, motioning with a tilt of his head for me to join him on the wooden seat.

“It’s really nice…” I walked to him slowly, still surveying the room, “Are you thinking of renting it?”

“No, not me. I was thinking it might be nice for you and Elizabeth.”

I full-stopped about four feet from where he sat, “What?”

“You mentioned you were looking for a lager place, you and Elizabeth.”

“Yeah, something larger not something…” I lifted my arms around me in a movement I suspected looked like slow motion flapping, “Richy Rich McMansion huge.”

His grin was immediate, “It’s not that big.”

I tilted my head at him in the way I often saw him employ, hands moving to my hips, “I am fairly certain it is well outside of our price range.”

He also titled his head, “See, that’s the thing, this floor and the four beneath it belong to Cypher Systems. They were specifically purchased for employees.”

“You mean, you mean the company owns these apartments?”

He nodded.

“But why would the Boss want to buy apartments for his staff?”

He shrugged, “It was actually Betty’s idea. She and her husband are downsizing, they want to move out of their house now that all their kids are gone and she talked to me about helping her find a place near work, so she wouldn’t have the commute.”