My old landlord texted me this morning and said she had some of my mail, so I decided to drive to San Antonio to meet up with Jake rather than have him drive to Austin. I texted him after I picked up my mail to let him know he didn’t have to come to me for dinner. He responded almost immediately with his address. That text was followed by another that read, Key under the rock next to the grill on the back patio. I’ll be there in a couple of hours.
That was seven hours ago.
He’s texted several times since then, apologizing profusely. He got called into an emergency surgery. I keep reassuring him that it’s fine. I even offered to come back another time, but he made me swear I wouldn’t leave before he got home.
So…in an attempt to make hanging out for seven hours in the home of a guy I’m not officially dating a little less strange, I’ve kept myself busy. I think I underestimated Jake’s honesty when he said he was a messy person. Because…even after a trip to the store for cleaning supplies and hours of straight work…this place still isn’t spotless. I’ve done four loads of laundry, two loads of dishes, made his bed for what I’m sure is the first time ever, scrubbed both bathrooms, and now I’m prepping dinner.
I came to his house prepared to stay the night. I’m not sure if that’s something he’ll ask me to do, but just in case, I brought my medications, an extra set of clothes, and my respiratory vest. The thought of using it in front of him is embarrassing, but the thought of avoiding my responsibilities and ending up sick again would be even more embarrassing.
I do get the feeling he’ll want me to stay the night. Our texts started getting flirty a couple of hours ago. The last text I sent him was a picture of my hand touching his sparkling clean kitchen sink, and he responded with, That is the sexiest fucking picture I’ve ever seen.
I’m layering the cheese on the pizza when I hear his key in the front door. When he opens it, I get this tiny little quiver inside my stomach. It’s so dumb, but I like him so much. It helps that he’s fun to look at. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a light blue shirt with a black tie. And a smile. He tries to take in his kitchen as he walks closer to me, but his eyes keep falling back to mine.
I can tell by the way he’s looking at me that he’s been waiting for this moment all day.
“Do you wear scrubs at work?”
He tosses his keys on the counter. “Yes. Most days, but I keep them at work. Sterilization purposes.” He begins to undo his tie while he stares at me. “You should move in with me.”
I laugh at his deadpan humor. “No, thank you. I have no plans to be your maid.” I face the counter again and finish putting the toppings on the pizza.
Jake walks up behind me and wraps his arms around me. I lean into him, missing the way he feels and smells. He lowers his mouth to my ear. “If you were my maid, I could pay you in orgasms.”
“After today, I think I’m already due one or two.”
He laughs against my neck. “Considering the pristine condition of my kitchen, I owe you quite a few.”
I toss the chopped onion onto the the pizza and wash my hands. He’s still behind me, his arms around me. “Are you spending the night?” He sounds hopeful.
I don’t want to seem desperate, so I fail to admit my change of clothes is already in his bedroom in my backpack. “We’ll play it by ear,” I tease.
I feel him shake his head, and then he spins me so that I’m facing him. “No, I say we go ahead and call it now. Stay the night.”
“Okay.” I’m way too easy. I move around him and slide the pizza onto the oven rack.
“How long does that take to cook?”
I close the oven door and turn around and face him. “About as long as it would take you to pay back one of the orgasms you owe me.”
Finally, he kisses me. Then he lifts me, carries me to his bedroom, and lays me on his perfectly made bed. He looks around for a moment when he realizes I also cleaned his bedroom. Then he leaves me lying on his bed while he walks to his bathroom. When he sees his spotless bathroom, he then walks toward his laundry room.
He eventually makes it back to the bed, where he crawls on top of me. “Maggie Carson.”
That’s all he says. Just my name, with a smile. And then he disappears from my line of sight as he makes his way down my body, to the button on my jeans.
He thanks me, and when he’s done, we still have five minutes to spare before the pizza’s ready.
