Him
“Is there a name for the face you’re imagining on that punching bag, or is it just your time of the month?” Ram grunts as he hugs the bag, absorbing the leftover shock from my kicks with his body. I’ve punched that torso of his, I’d rather take my chances with the bag of sand.
“Cameron.” I pant and give the bag one last kick before I drop to the ground, catching my breath.
“Sounds like one of your snooty lot, rather than mine.”
“He’s not ‘my lot’,” I growl.
“Well, you’re not going to see a lot of Camerons around here.”
“I wish I didn’t see any Camerons anywhere,” I sulk.
“Ah, it’s a girl thing. Gotcha.”
I don’t answer, just throw my sweaty glove at him as I make my way to the bench press.
She said I had to be nice to her. She never said anything about her partner.
***
Malynda is completely engrossed in a pillow when I get to the store. Holding it right up to her face, she stares at it for a moment before rubbing it against the side of her cheek, eyelids closed. I can almost hear her sigh from 100 feet away.
I’m not really sure what she’s doing, but I’m wishing I was that pillow right now.
She opens her eyes and lays the pillow back down on the bed, running her fingertips along the seam, a soft smile on her face.
I am probably going to have to skip any meeting where she wants to discuss my bedroom design. Even after the energy depleting workout last night, I’m not too tired to imagine throwing her on that display bed right now. And showing her just how much I’ve missed her all these years.
As if she can hear the impure thoughts running through my head she turns, sees me, and waves.
“Hi, what about these?” she says as I walk up to her, holding out a sheet set for me to look at, but all I see is her.
“Er, yeah, great.”
“No, you have to feel them. They feel like liquid silk, ugh. Amazing.” She grabs my hand and pushes it over the bed spread. Liquid silk. That’s how I would’ve described her. Being inside her.
“Mmm,” I force myself to say, as I beg my cock to behave. “Very nice.”
“Ugh! this is wasted on you. Might as well go get you a sheet set from Walmart.”
I can’t help but laugh. Truth is, my apartment IS sparse, yes. But my bed linens are of the highest quality. When you sleep naked, you tend to care about what you’re sleeping on.
Even if, right now, I’m more focused on who I want to be sleeping with.
She’s wandered over to the lighting section and looks like she belongs there. Reflections off the tousled blonde bun on her head hit me like sun rays, lighting up her face like a spotlight.
She gestures impatiently to me and I take three steps to catch up with her.
“What about these?” she says, pointing to a set of wall panels with a LED light behind them. It disperses the light while emitting a warmth that wouldn’t look out of place in my apartment. “We can get them in a darker color, red oak, maybe. I think that’ll suit you better. For the entryway, where the elevator opens to.”
She’s right. She’s always had that impeccable sense of color. For a moment, I cringe, remembering what I said to her yesterday. The truth is, I think this is the perfect job for her. But I can’t take back what I said. I can only apologize.
“Hey, you’re the boss,” I say, as I do every time she suggests something.
“Xavier! You’re the one who has to live there and look at this stuff. You’re going to regret letting me choose everything.”
“I really don’t care. You have a good eye. I trust you.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. And the way she looks away tells me, she caught it too.
“Fine,” she clears her throat a few seconds later, “but please look over some of the fabric swatches I sent over so you can be prepared to give me an opinion next time.”
“Yes, I will tell you exactly what shade of puke I want for my tablecloth.”
“Puce!”
“That’s what I said.”
“Ugh,” she grumbles and waves her hand at me.
I follow her as she wanders over to another stack of sheets.
“So, um, what are you doing tonight?” I ask.
She frowns, “Why?”
“Just making conversation.”
“Well, I have a late meeting, but then, I actually have quite the romantic night planned.”
I swallow the burn of white-hot jealousy. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yup, I bought a special outfit at Victoria Secret just for tonight.”
Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. “Oh. Ok. Wow. Lucky guy.”
“Yup, it’s a flannel pajama set with matching slippers. I’m going to slip into something very comfortable and eat my special mac and cheese, with a glass of wine and Netflix.” She makes a show of fanning herself and winks dramatically at me.
If she could read my mind she’d see the sheer relief flashing across it. “Well, sounds like you’re in for a night to remember!”
She giggles as I take the basket from her and walk her to the checkout.
“So, hey, these pajamas of yours, any chance flannel comes in see-through?”
“Xavier!”
Her
I admit it. I was slightly disappointed when Xavier asked my plans and then left it at that. What did I want? Did I want him to ask me out for dinner?
No. No! Because then I would’ve had to say no, and I don’t know that I could’ve.
But now here I am, in my office, last meeting of the day finally over, and the prospect of mac and cheese alone in my apartment is actually making me feel more lonely than I have felt in years.