“I know you’re not,” he said. “And that’s what makes this so special. With so many people in the world, the fact that we finally found each other is . . . well, it’s amazing. I just need to help you see it.”
“No, you don’t.” I felt emboldened. Also, I felt pretty sick of his shit. I wanted this to stop. It had gone on for long enough. “This needs to stop, Noah. I’ve been trying to be nice to you, and I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’re really not getting it through your head. You’re not hearing me. I am not interested in you. I’m not! I have a boyfriend, actually. That’s the guy you saw me getting out of the cab with. So I need you to leave me alone. Get on with your life, because you’re just wasting your time on me. We’re not going to be together. I’m not sure what gave you the idea that we would, but it’s not going to happen, okay? And if you don’t stop showing up at my place and following me around, I’m going to have to call the police. Which I don’t want to do, but I will, because it really feels like you’re leaving me no choice.”
He kept his eyes on me the whole time, his face blank. But then, when he was sure I was done speaking, his face broke out into a grin.
“I know you don’t mean that,” he said.
“No, but I do. I mean exactly that. I should have told you this a while ago. I’m going inside now. And if I look out the window and see that you’re still here, I’m calling the police.”
I marched past him, my keys in hand. Isn’t that what they said to do in women’s safety classes—carry your keys in your hand when you were walking alone or through a parking lot at night? Just feeling the cool metal in my hand calmed me a little, though I doubted I’d really be able to stab Noah’s eye out or something with them, if he were to lunge at me. But he didn’t; he simply stood there as I walked past, and I could feel his gaze boring into me as I hurried to unlock the front door.
I didn’t turn around to look when I finally got the door unlocked, but I quickly slipped in and slammed it shut behind me. It was a heavy door, and part of me was expecting that his arm was going to snake through at the last second before it shut, but it didn’t. I breathed a sigh of relief and then walked through the small lobby to my own door. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was he completely undeterred by everything that I said?
When my mother called the next evening, I felt for sure it was because she had some sort of sixth sense about my virginity, and she knew that I had lost it. Usually, more time elapsed between our interactions, especially when they ended as they had the last time we met up.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, trying to keep the weariness out of my voice as much as I could.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
“Am I interrupting your work? If I am, I’ll call back at another time.”
I glanced at my laptop, which I’d placed next to me on the couch to answer the phone. Yes, I’d just been using it—no, it hadn’t been to work on any writing. I was on Facebook, looking at Ian’s profile, scrolling through pictures, wondering if I should friend him or not. Since we were sleeping together, the obvious answer seemed yes, but I wasn’t sure since we were keeping things hush-hush.
“No, you’re not interrupting anything,” I said. “How are you?”
“Quite good, thank you. I was just working on my own manuscript, as a matter of fact, but thought I’d take a little break to give you a call. I’ve really found momentum to be the key to productivity, but everyone needs a break now and then, right?”
“Sure,” I said. “Glad to hear your writing is going so well.”
“So everything is good with you? Have you resolved any of those issues that you brought up the last time we got together?”
“If you’re asking whether I’ve quit my job or not, the answer is no. And I still have a stalker, and yes, I’m still considering moving.”
“Well, do you remember how I mentioned that my colleague was writing a book about the quarter-life crisis? We were talking a little bit about your situation, and he said that he’d be more than happy to discuss things with you. He’s learned quite a bit from the research he’s conducted, and I think it would be great if you would get in touch with him and set up a time to meet.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” I said. “Listen, Mom, I am actually kind of busy right now, so I think I better go. If you want to meet up for coffee or something, maybe we can do that.”
“That might be nice,” she said. “My schedule’s pretty busy though. So I don’t want to set anything up yet, but I’ll get back to you. And if you change your mind about Carl and letting him talk to you, just let me know! I think it’d be really good for you. Very helpful. Beneficial. Extremely—”
“Okay, Mom, I get it,” I said. “I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with your writing.”
“Same to you!” she said, a little too jovially.
I tried not to roll my eyes when I hung up the phone. Sometimes my mother felt more like a competitive sister than a mother. Part of me was just dying to call her back and say I just lost my virginity to the hottest guy you have ever seen! but that would just start a whole conversation I didn’t want to have with her.
And besides. Things were actually going really well for me. Aside from the fact that I still had a stalker, I could not remember a time when I’d been happier. Having sex had suddenly made the world seem like a whole different place, so much more exciting, so many more possibilities.
Chapter Seventeen
Ian
The next morning I was distracted, thinking about Daisy, as I was getting ready for work. I was sitting there at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal, replaying the sex in my mind. It had been hard to wait, that day we went out on the boat—I’d wanted to do her right then and there—but I was big into delayed gratification, so I made her wait. And it had been worth it. More than worth it. It was, of course, making myself wait, too, and my dick had been at about half mast ever since, her being the only thing that I could really think about. That’s exac
tly what I was thinking about when my phone started going off; I reached over and picked it up without looking at the screen.
“Ian! Finally! Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”