“You don’t want to date some dude fresh out of college,” Nick had said. “He’ll only stress you out.”
“Well, maybe someone slightly older,” she’d responded, winking at Nick. “Late twenties or so. Like you.”
She’d leaned closer, squeezing his arm, and he’d laughed.
Now it was the morning after, and he was lying naked in her bed.
“Uh.” Nick pulled the comforter up, covering his chest, although they seemed to be past propriety at this point. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Yolanda said. “I made breakfast.”
She turned and walked down the hallway. Ginger hopped off the bed to follow her, and Nick flopped down and stared at the ceiling. Fuck. How was he going to break it to Henry that he’d slept with Yolanda? Nick had met Henry, an NYU physics professor, in their building’s gym, and Henry told Nick he hadn’t dated for years after a drawn-out and heartbreaking divorce, but then he’d gotten to know Yolanda and he was crazy about her. And Nick had spent weeks coaching him on how to ask her out. Nick, Henry and Yolanda had become an oddly mismatched trio in their building, and he was going to lose both of them, all because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. It was so unlike him to slip up this way.
But then again, he wasn’t surprised, really. He always found a way to fuck up a good thing.
He spotted his T-shirt and jeans folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Shit, where were his boxers? Fuck it, he’d just have to free-ball. Quietly, he crawled forward, gathered his clothes and dressed. Then he made Yolanda’s bed to the best of his ability because he wasn’t a complete animal.
He took a deep breath before stepping into the hall, practicing what he’d say to her. But really, was it possible to make this situation any less awkward? He walked into the living room and smelled Yolanda’s huevos rancheros. His stomach grumbled painfully. Yolanda sang along to a song on the radio in the kitchen, and Nick carefully approached her.
“Yolanda . . .” he started.
She turned to him, smiling. “Are you hungry? Make a plate before Henry gets here. You know how he likes to eat.”
Nick paused, weighing his words. He swallowed and tried to moisten his dry throat. “Are you going to tell him about what we did last night? Or should I?”
“What we did?” Yolanda repeated, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. “I don’t get your meaning.”
“You know.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, even though they were the only two in the room. “Us. Hooking up.”
Yolanda jerked away, eyes wide. Incredulous, she gaped at Nick. Then she burst into laughter. Genuine laughter. She threw her head back and let out a true guffaw.
Nick stared at her, confused as fuck. “Was it bad sex . . . ?”
“Nick, honey,” Yolanda said, gaining some composure. “You and I did not have sex last night.”
“We didn’t?” Nick’s mind was spinning. “Then why was I naked?”
“You were too drunk to go back to your own apartment, so I let you sleep over. I slept downstairs at Henry’s. You got into my bed fully dressed, so you must have taken off your clothes in the middle of the night. My room does get unreasonably hot. I’ve talked to the building manager about that.”
Nick was relieved, but he felt infinitely more mortified than anything. He scratched at the back of his neck and squeezed his eyes closed, frustrated with himself.
“Yolanda, I am so sorry,” he said. “I completely misunderstood what happened. Please forget I was ever so stupid to think you would even consider having sex with me.”
Yolanda patted his cheek affectionately. “Oh, it’s all right, honey. I’m a shameless flirt, but I’ve only got eyes for Henry Lin.”
Her phone rang then, abruptly interrupting their embarrassing conversation. Yolanda grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and began speaking in rapid-fire Spanish. She turned back to Nick and gestured for him to make a plate, but Nick knew he should take this opportunity to leave now. He’d already made things awkward enough.
“Hey, I have to go,” he said quietly, so as to not interrupt her call.
Yolanda waved goodbye and Nick slipped away, grabbing his new Vans by the door on his way out. They were a recent purchase after his old sneakers had become so worn down, there were holes in the soles. Nick was still becoming used to the idea of being someone who had disposable income.
He sighed in relief once he was finally back at his apartment. The large, empty space used to overwhelm him. He’d never lived anywhere so big before, so new. His living room was sparse. There was a television mounted on the wall, and across from it sat Yolanda’s mustard yellow recliner that was still covered in bits of Pomeranian dog hair. His bedroom was just as empty. Only a mattress sans bed frame and a few shirts and pants hanging up in his closet. This was the first time since college that he’d stayed in one place for longer than a month. He was still getting used to the idea.