In the cold, fluorescent light of the elevator lobby, her final text feels like a slight misstep. It’s not untrue—it’s just the wrong format for communicating with nuance. Instead, she might’ve gone with: Hey, I think I’ve always kind of wanted to ride your face, but I’m currently suffering from acute emotional distress and it’s so much easier if I only sit on faces I don’t have memorized.
At least it’s more specific.
They step into the elevator. Josh jabs at the 5 button and turns around to face her. The nervous tension in her stomach calls to mind their elevator ride in the Strand—but this is different. Less playful. Quieter.
Everything that moved at fast-forward on the walk over transitions to slow motion. The elevator lurches upward in a way that suggests it also has concerns about this scenario. The delay gives Ari more time to consider the various ways this could play out. Are they about to dismantle the friendship they carefully forged, knocking down one brick after another? Or pick up those bricks and form something new?
Will this eventually become fodder for a set of inside jokes? Remember that one time we did it? When we couldn’t figure out how to navigate the height difference and you got annoyed because I stretched out your Egyptian cotton boxer briefs? Crying-laughing emoji.
But when he pulls the lapel of her coat and tilts his head down, it becomes clear that this is something very different from her usual frenzied hookups. That now, there’s all the time in the world and he’ll want to kiss her—slowly—and touch her and look at all the parts of her that he hasn’t seen before and that hadn’t really been part of the discussion on the train, had it?
Turning her head to dodge the kiss, Ari tugs on the sleeve of his coat. She’s always been good at pivoting, downshifting, making situations more manageable for her brain. She places his hand under the skirt of the dress—this, here, now—guiding his fingers inside the waistband of her tights. He’s more than willing to oblige. She might be death-gripping the sleeve of his coat with her other hand because holy shit. Her legs are tense, even though she’s used to this part of the repertoire—a little show-and-tell so new partners can feel what she likes. But Josh’s face isn’t screwed up in the “I’m concentrating, gotta remember this” expression that she’s used to. He’s looking again, watching her. And, for once, she’s not talking.
Which is not to say that she’s quiet. She’s surprised to hear herself whimper—a pathetic whine that confirms how easy it would be to lose control. Ari lowers her gaze into his parka-covered chest because if they stare at each other like that while this is happening, it’s just…way too much.
When the elevator gears grind to an abrupt halt at the fifth floor, they stumble into the apartment. Ari takes the opportunity to reset expectations. Lingering too long at this part will make it impossible to explain it all away tomorrow.
“Take this off,” she orders, tugging at his parka, regaining a bit of her composure. “Take everything off.”
If he’s a bit thrown by the shift in tone, it doesn’t make him less cooperative. He lets his jacket drop to the ground without so much as a wince.
Ari steps out of her boots, hastily grabbing the fabric of his shirt in her fist and pulling up.
“I’m starting to understand why you don’t even need an hour with these dates.” He sounds amused. “Do you have somewhere to be?”
She was on her way to a date, but she can’t remember where it was or with who. Every brain cell is currently focused on how to steer this ship over the waterfall without smashing it to smithereens at the bottom.
Ari takes a step back, letting the shirt fall to the ground. She simply hasn’t pictured him so specifically before. At least not this part of him. Her hand skims over his chest; it’s the perfect amount of give.
“You’re…” Her voice trails off. It’s not that his muscles are spectacularly well-defined. He just looks so solid: like a person who could chop large quantities of firewood or help a woman carry a giant stroller up a flight of subway stairs.
Josh gives a little self-conscious shrug. He moves to unbutton her dress again, but she swats his hand away. Easier to keep this focused on the physical if she remains in control of everything on her body. Her hand migrates downward, and in three seconds, he’s in his boxer briefs.
His abs contract as Ari reaches beneath the waistband and…um…
“Wow,” she says softly. “I’ve been casually sitting next to this for months?”