Asking for It

Page 68

Honestly, I think as I drive to campus. You went out with Jonah. You’ve told your friends. The two of you are—normalizing this.

He’s not your mystery lover anymore.

But the whole day, I can’t stop thinking about Jonah. Not the conversation we shared—not the tender kiss at my front door—but endless fantasies, overlapping each other and blurring every other thought I have. Over and over, I imagine him taking me as roughly and brutally as possible.

Concentrate! I tell myself, as I sit through a department meeting, as I grade papers, as I talk to Geordie on the phone about a mutual friend’s birthday dinner. It doesn’t help. My erotic imagination has taken over, and there’s no room left in my head for anything else. Even when I guest-lecture in the Renaissance Sculpture class, I linger too long on the slide of Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne. It’s as if I’m drinking in her fear, his lust, and her hands reaching skyward for escape.

I want Jonah to chase me. To catch me. I want it now.

As I walk back to my office after class, my phone vibrates in my hand. I’m expecting Geordie to call back with the final word on the restaurant, so—for once—I don’t look at the screen before I answer. “Hello. ”

“Oh. Vivienne. ” Chloe sounds dismayed to have gotten me instead of my voice mail. That makes two of us. “How are you?”

“Fine. And you?”

“Very well, as it happens. ” As if you care remains unspoken. “Mom’s decided to get rid of the armoire on the second floor. You know, the one that used to belong to Aunt Mignon? It would look just perfect in my guest room . . . but of course I’ve taken the last few heirlooms. So I thought I ought to ask you whether you were interested before I became greedy. ”

Sounds generous, doesn’t it? Of course, Chloe’s fully aware that I live in a two-room house that barely has room for my books, much less more furniture. “You should have it,” I say. “Besides, then the armoire will be Libby’s someday. ”

“Of course. Well. ” A silence falls. She wants to know about Thanksgiving, but she doesn’t want to ask.

I’m so, so tired of jumping through hoops—but if I don’t visit Libby this Thanksgiving, how long will it be before I see her again? Chloe couldn’t keep me from her forever, but she could separate us for a long time. So I stifle a sigh. “I’m planning on coming home for the holidays. For Thanksgiving and Christmas. ” That last is only partly true. Christmas day with my family, I can endure. The entire break? No way in hell.

“It’s good to know how many to plan for,” she says primly. But then, with what seems like genuine interest, she says, “I don’t suppose you’ll be bringing anyone? Are you still seeing that adorable Scotsman?”

“Geordie and I decided we were better off as friends. But I’ll tell him you said he was adorable. It’ll make his day. ” The one time Geordie and Chloe met, they hit it off. Of course, Geordie hits it off with nearly everyone.

“A pity you two broke up. He suited you, I thought. There’s no one else on the horizon?”

I let the silence go on too long before I say, “I’m not bringing anyone to Thanksgiving. ” Jonah and I might be trying to find our way back to normal, but I doubt he’s the holiday-dinners type.

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” Chloe says, but she doesn’t ask further. That would come too close to having a meaningful conversation. “Well, be sure to let us know what night you’ll come in from Austin. ”

“Will do. And tell Libby hi. ”

“Of course. ” In her voice, there’s not even a hint that she recently threatened to keep Libby away from me permanently. “Thanks for being so understanding about the armoire. ”

“Don’t mention it,” I say, knowing she won’t.

This makes for a solid three minutes I’ve spent thinking about something besides Jonah Marks. But I don’t make it to four, because as soon as I open my e-mail, there’s a note from Jonah.

The subject reads, Complete Disclosure.

My pulse quickens as I click, wondering if I’m about to read some confession—the truth about Jonah’s fantasy, whatever dark place it comes from, all his inner secrets. The answer proves to be more prosaic than that.

We said we would exchange these. I feel strange sending them after our evening out together, but you need to know now more than ever.

I can’t stop thinking about the way you kiss.

My heart does a dizzy little flip when I read the last line, which softens the moment when I open the attachment to see a lab report—Jonah confirming that he’s free of any STD.