A Few Days That Ended Too Quickly
On Monday, a few minutes before ten, I was already waiting for Adam, trembling with anticipation. I’d deliberately left my hair slightly damp, hoping the wet strands would make him imagine me stepping out of the shower. I didn’t hold back on the jasmine body wash either. I wanted to awaken all his senses at once. If I was already half out of my mind, he shouldn’t be able to stay calm around me either.
I don’t know whether I was sending signals that were too intense, or whether the chemistry between us really was that strong, but within minutes of his arrival, I was already pulling his T-shirt over his head.
The touch of his mouth surpassed everything I’d imagined. My fingers slid impatiently into his thick hair as I breathed softly into his ear. I inaugurated my purple sofa in proper style. Twice in a row. His skin burned, his eyes glowing as he looked at me.
“How long are you going to be sick?” he whispered in my ear when I was resting comfortably in his arms.
I shivered as his soft, damp lips brushed my earlobe.
“As long as you want…”
And I meant it. He could have asked anything.
“I’ve got a work dinner tonight, but I’m free all day tomorrow. I leave Wednesday morning.”
My fingers drifted playfully across his chest, all the way down to his navel.
“I’ll text Thessa right now and tell her I’m still weak.” I kissed him. “It won’t even be a lie.” I kissed him again. “I don’t even know if I’m coming or going.”
That afternoon, I called my doctor and got signed off for two days. He diagnosed viral diarrhea, so I had to pick up medication as well, which was added to my file. I didn’t dare ignore it. I ran down to the pharmacy to collect it.
The few hours I’d spent with Adam worked wonders. I felt like a different person. Light in body and soul, I walked straight into trouble. I’d forgotten everything. Especially Grumpy.
“Hmm,” he muttered in his usual surly tone, setting the box of medication in front of me a little too firmly. “Anything else?”
“Hmm,” I echoed, cheekily. “Do you have cooking cream?”
He rolled his eyes.
“I can mix you up a thick white cream,” he said. “I’ll label it for external use, just in case. But if you decide to add it to your sauce anyway… here’s your medication.” He nodded toward the anti-diarrhea powder.
Even my toes turned dark red. Once again, he’d won. Clinging to what little dignity I had left, I walked out into the street in silence, head held high. I really need to convince Sofia to quit the clinic and open another pharmacy nearby.
On Tuesday, Adam arrived again around ten. We barely left the bed until early afternoon. When our stomachs were growling too loudly to ignore, we ordered lunch. We rested for a while, then fell into each other again with renewed energy. This time, I cancelled the pool myself, blaming my nonexistent viral diarrhea. For the full experience, we even made love in the shower.
I was a little nervous when I asked him to stay the night. I don’t usually like sleeping next to someone. But everything with him felt so easy that I couldn’t bring myself to let him go. I wanted Wednesday morning to start with making love, but unfortunately he had to rush off. As it turned out, to the airport.
He’d somehow forgotten to mention that he was flying to Sweden.
For eight months. Great. What exactly had I been thinking?
We celebrated my birthday at my place. To save me the hassle, a catering company handled not only the food but all the setup as well. They even brought the glasses and the champagne. That part was probably due to Mark and Sofia’s pathological laziness. I assume they preferred paying for it rather than dealing with it themselves. Adele, however, isn’t particularly fond of that kind of spending.
As I’d suspected, I received a bedspread set. Two silver, heavily crocheted, weighty throws. They matched the sofa perfectly and brought the armchair into harmony. Adele spread them out herself, smoothing and adjusting them with satisfaction. If I had to guess, she chose them without consulting the others.
Sofia prepared a little speech about what it means to turn twenty-eight on the twenty-eighth. All positive, of course. Except for one small detail: I still didn’t have a serious relationship. They did.
“And?” Mark suddenly cut in. “Did you hook up?”
I nearly sprayed champagne everywhere. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. I leaned forward to set down my glass, then straightened up again, gripping the stem tightly, then leaned forward once more…
“Mark,” Sofia said gently. “Don’t.”
I should have expected that curiosity — and jealousy — would eat Mark alive.
“I hope he did a thorough job.”
“Mark, for God’s sake, what business is it of yours?” Adele snapped.
Her expression, however, suggested something entirely different. A greedy curiosity lit up her eyes, and she leaned forward, stretching toward me. Sofia, who can’t wait for me to find the love of my life and have a child — putting as much distance as possible between me and Mark — pretended to disapprove of the questioning. At the same time, she set her glass down and twisted the hem of her shirt around her finger.
“Yes. I slept with him.”
“The first time?” Adele protested.
“No. Of course not. The second.”
“Pfft,” Adele muttered.
On the surface, she disapproves of things like that. But the sparkle in her eyes always gives her away. She can’t wait until we’re alone so she can question me properly.
Though that won’t happen anytime soon. Starting tomorrow, work begins in full force. If I’m guessing right, my weekends are gone for a while, too. I just hope I can find some kind of workable balance.