back to it. She’d stayed behind after all the others had left, saying she wanted to help me tidy up and since she lived so close it wouldn’t be a big deal.
An hour later, she was still here, pleasantly working alongside me after what had been a great day. I was intensely wiping down the dining table and any other surfaces that had had food placed on them when Julia spoke up.
“The house looks pretty good.” She pointed at the spot I was wiping down for the second time. “And I say this as someone who grew up in a house where all the furniture was covered in industrial-grade plastic and the Fabuloso was purchased by the gallon. This place is pristine.”
Her comment stopped my hand in mid-motion. I immediately felt like she was judging me, like she could tell my obsession with cleaning my house was part of my baggage. No matter how much I worked on my hang-ups, the most innocuous word or comment could put me on the defensive. Now that I thought about it, this hadn’t happened once since I’d started hanging out with Julia and the rest of the crew. But I felt it now.
I stood there, watching as she assessed me with her eyes half-closed like she was trying to figure out if she’d hit a nerve or overstepped. I reeled in the impulse to say something sharp or caustic. Instead I said something I hadn’t shared with anyone other than Coach Brito or my therapist.
“I like to keep my space clean.” I lowered my eyes, feeling exposed just from that. “My parents’ house growing up was always a mess. I don’t like to feel like my place is dirty.”
She nodded and put the vacuum down. As she came closer, all I could think was she knows about me and she’s coming closer instead of pulling back.
“Like I said, my mother’s dedication to cleanliness is on the fanatic side, so I’m not judging. You call it your parents’ house.”
I looked at her, confused for a second, and then realized the point she was trying to make. “I haven’t lived with them for a long time.”
She dipped her head. “Right, you were with your coach.”
I swept my hand around the room with generic art on the walls and the nice but pretty plain furniture that had come with the apartment. “It’s not like I’m obsessed with how the place looks or anything, because this IKEA modern isn’t exactly stylish. I just like it neat.”
She turned her head, her dark brown eyes sweeping the room. As if looking at it with a different lens. “This is a pretty swank place. I always envisioned consultants staying at the Holiday Inn or something, but this is real nice. You have a great job. You’ve done well for yourself.”
By now she was standing in front of me, so close that if I leaned in just a couple of inches, I could have pressed my lips to her forehead. The sleeve of her dress had slid down some and I could see the black strap of her bathing suit and her deeply tanned shoulder. There was just a tiny bit of peeling happening, and I lifted my hand to run my finger over it. But at the last moment, I caught myself, and let it hang in the air. Not wanting to break any rules, but not ready to give up on the idea of this. Without saying a word or taking her eyes off me, she laid her hands over my fingers, caught.
My eyes zeroed in at the base of her neck and how it dipped into the valley between her breasts. She smelled like lemon and coconut, but also a little like the chlorine from the hot tub. I wanted to taste every inch, and as if she was reading my thoughts, she leaned in.
This was not a good idea, but with every no ringing in my head, there was a yes pounding in my chest pulling me closer. Her hand gripped my fingers harder and her breath hitched just as our mouths met.
This was it. This was the place where I could lose my head, but instead of pulling back, I pressed in. I would quit this. I would, but I had to get a taste.
Julia in my arms was intoxicating, my head filled to the brim with her. Of the way her warm skin felt under my hands as I ran them down her back.