Imperfect Chemistry, Page 34

I arrive at Freya’s right at six o’clock, the time she told me to arrive.

  She opens the door and reels me in for a big hug before pulling back and examining me from head to toe and then back to my face again.

  “You look different,” she says.

  “I do?”

  “Come in and tell us about your holiday!” She yanks me into the living room.

  Ted and Bethany are already there, sitting on the couches and drinking wine. There’s food on the coffee table: quiches, fruit, crackers and cheese. Her apartment is decorated with vintage items. The furniture is brightly colored orange and yellow hues, and she has a chair embroidered with floppy flowers. White fairy lights twinkle as they wrap around the room at the top of the walls.

  “My darling genius girl!” Ted stands up and kisses me on the cheek.

  Bethany stands too and gives me a hug. “You look different,” she says.

  I glance over at Freya. “Why are you both saying that?” I ask.

  “Oh, yeah,” Ted says, taking his seat back on the couch. “You’ve got this whole glowy thing going on.” He nods solemnly and waves around his face with his hand.

  “I do?”

  “Yes!” Freya says.

  We all sit down. Bethany and Ted plop on the couch, I sit on the flowery chair.

  Freya sits on the floor and grabs a quiche to stuff in her mouth. “You had sex, didn’t you!” she accuses around a mouthful of food.

  “No,” I say. “And not for lack of trying.”

  “OMG, I knew it!” Ted says. “You want to bone Jensen down, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure what that means,” I say. “But we have spent a lot of time together this week.”

  “You have to tell us everything!” Bethany says.

  I tell them nearly everything, though I skip some of the more personal details and completely leave out the part about Jensen’s artwork and the whole virgin thing. I get the feeling he doesn’t share that last bit often. Or ever.

  “Let me get this straight,” Ted says, his face a picture of disbelief. “You’ve slept in the same bed nearly every night for almost a week?”

  “Yes.”

  “And nothing happened?”

  “Yes.”

  He claps his hands and his eyes turn gleeful. “Maybe he is gay!”

  “No. He’s not,” I say assuredly.

  “Well, are you guys together?” Bethany asks.

  That makes me pause. “I don’t know.”

  “Have you had the talk?” Freya asks.

  “What’s that?”

  They exchange knowing looks.

  Freya answers. “The talk about being exclusive. The one I never had with Cameron and then he ended up in bed with Liz the slut.” She offers me a pointed look.

  “No,” I answer. “We haven’t had that talk. But that’s okay. I’m enjoying our time together.”

  “But you’re not having sex?” Ted still appears confused.

  “No.”

  “Hmph.” He sips his wine.

  “Tell me about your Thanksgivings,” I say, in an effort to change the subject.

  Freya talks about a former boyfriend she ran into in her hometown, Bethany complains about her grandmother’s arbitrary and frequent use of moth balls, and Ted goes on and on about how his family played football and went off-roading.

  Freya serves salad and lasagna and we eat in the living room. After dinner, there’s more talking and laughing and then I’m ready to go home. Or to Jensen’s home, rather.

  “Thank you for having me over,” I tell Freya as I’m leaving.

  “No problem,” she says, giving me a hug. “We’ll get together for lunch this week?”

  “Sure.”

  By the time I get to Jensen’s it’s after ten and all of the lights are off on his side of the duplex. I sneak in quietly using the key he gave me, leaving it next to the wabi-sabi dish in the living room before brushing my teeth with the toothbrush I’ve left there and crawling into bed with him.

  He snuffles in his sleep, making me smile. I try and relax on my side of the soft bed, but for some reason I can’t. After a minute of tossing and turning, Jensen shifts towards me and yanks me against him, one of his arms over my midsection and a heavy leg over mine. Once I’m pressed against him, feeling his body warmth seep into my back, it’s easier to relax and before I know it I fall asleep.

  ***