Seven Years Since The Motel Ch. 05

He stared at her, stunned.

"Thanks for that, all of it. I . . . wow. Thanks. I mean, other people told me I was good, but I didn't really believe . . . ." He cleared his throat, looking both surprised and embarrassed. "Huh. I guess we know why I need someone else to write the lines."

She laughed. She was still propped on her elbow, looking down at him. He smiled, but she couldn't read his expression.

"What?" she asked.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"How I still can't believe that you're here with me. How I've missed you, and how I don't want to miss you anymore."

His breath hitched; was he nervous?

"You know Maisie, my mom's parents always get on my nerves after a day or so. Maybe . . . I think maybe I should see if my great-aunt Agatha has any room for me in New York. And if I'm in New York, I think it might be nice to, you know, see you some more, seeing as that's where you are now."

"I think I'd like that."

All her angst about friends and lovers, bodies and emotions . . . it all seemed so silly now. While this evening had started off as a one-night stand, maybe it would turn into a grand romance. There wouldn't be bad consequences to deal with tomorrow.

"And now I'm thinking," he said, wrapping his hand behind her neck and pulling her down close to his face, "that it might be a good time to figure out just how empty your threats were. So I can really thank you for what you said."

"I think I like that idea, too."

"Good," he said, kissing her. "You know, I seem to remember you mentioning something about me teaching you how to ride me. It seems like this might be a good time for that."

"Um, that involves me being on top?"

"Yeah." He cocked his head up from the bed. "What, that not OK?"

"Um." She felt her face grow red; it seemed silly after the shower, but she was embarrassed at the thought of being so exposed above him. "I think I might just want to stick with what we did earlier. Is that OK?"

"If that's what you want." He sat up to kiss her, but stopped when his mouth was just inches from hers. "Anything you want, Maisie. Whatever you want, I'll do it."

She reached her hands up, reveling in the feel of his hair underneath her fingers, feeling him smile through the kiss.

The kisses she'd shared with her few high-school boyfriends had been awkward and rushed, stolen beneath athletic stands or in academic buildings after classes had ended; she'd been too nervous about being caught to break her boarding school's gender-separating parietals system by allowing a boy to sneak into her room after curfew, and sneaking across campus by herself in the dead of night had been out of the question. The few boys she'd dated hadn't been worth the risk of suspension, anyway.

But here . . . it was a dirty, cheap motel room and she was with someone she hadn't spoken with in years, but it felt more right than any of those high school encounters.

"This is what I want," she said. "You're what I want."

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"What is it with people and their crazy-ass dreams?"

Maisie's eyes popped open. She must've fallen asleep; she was on her side, facing the wall, but someone else was in her room.

"Carolina?"

"Yes. Carolina. Gemma's here too. We aren't . . . whoever it was you were dreaming about."

Maisie held her breath, afraid Carolina would ask the next logical question. She exhaled when she heard only silence.

"Speaking of which—"

Maisie groaned.

"What were you dreaming about?"

Maisie sat up and glared at Carolina, who was inches away from her; Gemma was at the window, looking outside.

"That's none of your business." She rolled her eyes as Carolina winked at her. "Why are you here?"

"Your mom was just about to wake you when we arrived, so we said we'd do it."

Taking her opportunity, Maisie leapt out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans as Carolina turned and walked across the room. She sat down on a spindly old chair in the corner and tapped her chin with her finger.

"Seriously Maisie, I think I'll be happy if I don't have to wake another person up for a month, minimum. First Alessandro has weird dreams, and now you—"

"To answer your question, Maisie, we need a fourth for bridge," Gemma said, turning away from the window.

"Oh," Maisie said, thankful for Gemma's interruption. She was sure she'd spluttered when Carolina had mentioned her brother's name. "A fourth, Gemma? Aren't there seven people in your house right now?"

"Sort of." Carolina stood and went to look at the jewelry on Maisie's dresser. "Our parents are out; I don't think mom could handle being in the same house with grandmother and grandfather anymore, so they made some flimsy excuse and went to Wiscasset for the evening. And grandmother and grandfather decided to go to bed."

"Bed?" Maisie glanced at the clock on her nightstand. "But it's not even eight."

"Alessandro took them for what was supposed to be a short walk in the nature preserve on Steward Island, but—surprise, surprise—they got lost. They were exhausted when they got back this afternoon, and turned in about fifteen minutes ago." Carolina picked up a necklace and began to play with the beads. "This is really pretty, Maisie. I don't think I've seen you wear it. When did you get it?"

"Huh? Oh. Um, last month?" She turned to Gemma. "Yeah, OK. I can play. I haven't really eaten, though. I'll have to grab some food."

"Oh, we have plenty of food, if you want." Gemma snatched the necklace from Carolina's hands and held it out to Maisie. "Here, take this before Carolina breaks it. Better yet, why don't you put it on."

Confused, Maisie looked from Gemma to Carolina, who looked equally perplexed. "Why?"

Gemma shrugged. "Why not? Like Leena said, it's pretty."

Maisie put the necklace on. "Happy?"

"I suppose, though it looks a little silly with the rest of your outfit." Gemma sat down on the bed. "You've been on vacation for a week, and I've seen you in nothing by work clothing. Don't you want to wear something else? You know, to really emphasize how after this moment, you'll be doing no more farm chores?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Gem? Maisie's been working like a dog all week; if she wants to wear jeans and a ratty old tank top, let her wear jeans and a ratty old tank top." Carolina gave her sister an incredulous look. "You've been spending way too much time with grandmother, you know that?"

"Apparently." Gemma's lips twitched. "I guess that explains why my cardigan looks like . . . what did you say earlier?"

"Like an Easter egg vomited all over you?" Carolina giggled as she draped an arm around her sister, plucking at the neckline of the offending garment. "All that pink and purple, and the shiny buttons and lace edging . . . it's a good thing I love you, Gem. Otherwise I wouldn't be caught dead being seen with you."

"Take your bickering elsewhere, you two," Maisie said with a laugh. "Fine Gemma, I'll change, but I want to chat with my mom before I leave. I'll be over in fifteen minutes, OK?"

Maisie smiled as they said goodbye, but the expression vanished as soon as the door shut behind them. She sank onto the edge of the bed, closed her eyes, and buried her face in her hands.

Of course her fantasies had morphed into him; she should have known they would.

Carolina had awakened her before the night in her dream had ended. She and Alessandro had made love twice more that night, falling asleep together after each time. Then . . . well, then he'd woken up again, and things had gone horribly wrong. At least she hadn't been forced to endure that again.

She pushed her hands back through her hair, stood, and picked up the comb on her dresser; she'd fallen asleep with damp hair, and it needed some work. She ran the comb through her hair several times before pausing at a knot, and then swallowed hard as she looked at the spot over her shoulder in the mirror where he'd been in her dream.

Disgusted in her inability to separate dreams and reality, she turned away from the mirror and looked out the window. She wasn't angry about that morning anymore; she supposed it would always hurt, but she'd forgiven him. They'd been kids; as her mother had said, teenagers do stupid things.

She put the comb down and headed to her closet, picking out her newest pair of non-work jeans and a fitted print t-shirt she'd picked up from a street artist. She played with the soft material of the shirt between her fingers, thinking.

It was true she hadn't really known him then, but she'd known him before that night and she knew him now. More importantly, she trusted him as a friend now.

But was that what she wanted from him? Friendship?

Or did she want more?

She was about to push the absurd thought out of her mind, as she had done countless times this week, but stopped. She didn't know what she wanted, but she didn't know what he wanted, either; she'd merely guessed he wanted some sort of friends with benefits situation for the brief time they were in Maine together.

But if there was one thing she'd learned from this week, it was that not talking—and running away and making up silly stories—solved nothing.

She had to stop pussyfooting around. She'd ask him what he wanted with her, tonight. She'd never shied away from these conversations with any other man; she had with him, years ago, and look at the mess it had caused.

It was time to grow up and have an adult conversation.

She glanced over to her underwear drawer and grinned.

Well, have an adult conversation and prepare for more. Just in case.

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Only two more chapters to go, give or take a chapter. And trust me, you will find out exactly what happened the next morning, though in a non-flashback kind of way. :)

I appreciate your patience. I will finish this story, but I am a very slow writer and life has a way of disrupting my limited writing time.

I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors. I made substantial changes after receiving this back from a beta reader, and even though I proofread it multiple times, I'm sure I missed a few words here and there.

As always, public or private feedback is appreciated, and please vote. :)

-T