Spring
2004
"So, what do we do now?" Her voice was soft in the dark room. A gray light had washed over the room and blanched it of its color, leaving it in shaded in tones of light and dark. The mattress squeaked a little and the sheets slid over her skin as she shifted on the bed to study his face. She tucked her hands under her chin and waited for his answer.
Rain beat steadily against the window, its patter filling the silence. He hadn't slept. Or, at least, he didn't remember falling asleep. He had laid in bed listening to her breathing, to the rain on the glass panes, the sounds of cars driving through puddles, and had wondered how he was going to answer that very question. "I don't know."
She sat up, easing a leg from beneath the sheets, and dangled it over the edge of the bed. "I should get going." She pulled the flat sheet tightly against her chest. "Do you mind if I borrow this?"
He raised an eyebrow. "A little late for modesty, don't you think?"
She fell back against the bed with a thump, sheet still firmly tucked beneath her arms. "Well, this a little weird for me."
"Whereas," he pushed himself up onto his elbows, "this happens every other day to me."
Her breath expelling in soft gasps, she laughed softly. "Okay, then, since you're such an expert, what do we do next?"
"I can make you breakfast," he suggested. He swung his legs out of the bed and searched the floor for his boxers.
She pushed her hair back from her face and watched him. The muscles in his back were bunched and tensed and his movements were jerky. Reaching across the bed, she laid a hand on his spine, in the space between his shoulder blades and rubbed the skin. Her fingers curled and uncurled on his vertebrae. "Harm," she said quietly, "relax. We're both - " She broke off, unsure how to phrase her sentence.
He stopped his search and leaned back against the wall, pulling the covers across his lap. "I can at least make you breakfast," he offered again.
"Maybe." She shrugged. "You don't have to." She paused again, then added, "I had fun last night." The comment sounded hollow in her ears. Inadequate and trite, but she didn't know what else to say. Or how to alleviate the pressure in the room.
He tried, but he couldn't stop a smug smile from spreading. "We should do it again sometime."
Laughing, she sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. Leaning her elbows on them, she scraped her hair back into a ponytail and held it between her fingers. "Possibly." She glanced at the sky again. It was lighter; the gray was less severe. "I really should go."
His gaze followed hers to the window. "It's still early," he countered, wondering why he was arguing with her.
She twirled the sheets around her fingers, weaving the fabric in and out of them. The bed was painted in a chiaroscuro, the shadows contoured in the shapes of their bodies. Her clothes were strewn around the room, some tangled up in his. She shifted her legs, stretching one out in front of her, and flexed her toes. "It's getting later," she sighed. "So, about tomorrow?"
"What about tomorrow?" He rolled his head against the wall to look at her. So, they had circled back to this and he still didn't have an answer for her or for him. He wanted to ask her what she wanted, but he didn't want to hear her response. He didn't want to hear the words never or accident fall from her lips. "We could always let tomorrow take care of itself."
She shrugged and watched the rain. It was letting up and, if she waited much longer, she wouldn't even get wet on the walk to her car. "Harm, I-" She stopped and shrugged again. Her laugh was self-conscious and strained. "Honestly, did you think it would be this awkward?"
"Honestly? No."
"We probably shouldn't have done this."
"Maybe we should have done this sooner," he argued. "Gotten it out of our systems."
She nodded quickly and her "yeah" came out in a small voice. Whenever she had allowed herself to imagine a morning after between them, she had always pictured it differently. She chastised herself for being such a girl about it. Hadn't she said never? Hadn't she told him it was just for one night? It was silly and stupid and, most of all, pointless to want to change things now. He had a life separate from hers now. Maybe, if she were lucky, this wouldn't ruin their friendship. Or at the very least, their truce. "I really should go," she said again. "I don't want to get caught doing the walk of shame by the girls."
"The walk of shame?" he echoed. The corners of his mouth turned down a little.
She smiled to let him know it was a joke. "See the things you miss out on when you don't go to a regular college? It just means getting caught wearing the same clothes you had on the night before." She tugged on the sheet, gathering the material around her body and tried to climb out of the bed. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, picking up her clothes from the floor.
"Yeah." He resumed his hunt for his boxers and watched as she disappeared into the bathroom, the sheet dipping low at her waist. He was pulling on his jeans when she emerged fully clothed. She tossed the sheet at him, hitting him on the chest. Yanking on her sandal, she bent over and kissed him lightly on the lips before dashing out of the room. Her hurried "bye" was nearly lost in the sound of the door closing. He realized then that he had been wrong. She wasn't a seismic event. She was a tornado and he decided to listen to the warnings this time around.