I had not been on a date since... Well, since Josh, actually. The closest thing to a date that I had done since then was eating out with Cedric or hanging out at the frat house with him. I would hardly call those dates, but we had ended up sleeping together after each of those instances. Did that count? Probably not.

I wasn't exactly nervous, not in the sense that one would expect someone to be nervous before a first date, at least. I didn't have butterflies in my stomach nor a constant need to check myself in the mirror. What I was feeling was closer to guilt. Actually, what I was feeling was one hundred percent guilt. Going on a date with a man who wasn't Josh felt like a betrayal, and I wasn't coping well with that feeling.

In a curious and frankly subconscious way, I had managed to separate sex from romance in my mind. Sex was mechanical, physical. Sex was easy, freeing, and did not require thinking. For that reason, my sexual involvement with a fair share of people along the road had never caused me to feel guilt. Well, maybe I had felt guilty a couple times at first, but the cathartic character of sex had killed this feeling. Dating, however, was a whole other story.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time – not nervous, but still a human being – and departed for Arthur's house. What would be would be.

Very proudly, I rang the interphone at his gate at seven p.m. sharp, being punctual for once. His house was everything that you would expect it to be. It was a titan of white concrete, glass, and metal, perched on the heights of Rancho Palos Verdes, overseeing the Pacific Ocean. Not that I could see the ocean with this giant of a house blocking my view, but I knew very well it was there. His front yard had impeccably green trimmed grass and a pair of very tall palm trees. Every single aspect of this mansion was neat, sharp, sleek, and any other similar adjectives one could think of. When my Uber had dropped me there, he'd looked at me with a weird judgmental look, wondering how somebody who looked as cheap as I did had ended up in this rich area of the city. He must have thought I was a fancy hooker. I didn't blame him.

The gate opened and I made my way to the front door, resisting the urge to run around the house and go straight for the view. Arthur opened his door and watched me walk up his driveway. He had his cute dimple-y smile on his face which automatically brought a grin to mine.

"Good evening, Abril," he said when I finally reached him.

In a very uncharacteristic way, he held onto my bicep and bent over to kiss me on the cheek. It was so unexpected that I jumped a bit in surprise, and he noticed it.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me," he apologized.

"No, no, don't worry. I was just surprised, that's all."

"Yes, understandingly so. I won't do it again, don't worry."

"Arthur, it's fine. You've kissed your date's cheek, that's to be expected. Relax."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. Clearly, he was as comfortable as I was in this whole dating situation.

"I see you're wearing a neon green dress," he said with a cheeky side grin.

I was glad my outfit choice had been noticed. I shouldn't have been surprised, Arthur was an observant and attentive person.

"You said I could, so I delivered."

I did a twirl for his benefit. The dress I was wearing wasn't nice, but that was the only neon green dress I owned. It was tight, short, and made of cheap fabric. It was a piece I'd bought for when Sigrid and I wanted to dance the night away in LA nightclubs. I didn't dislike it but, if I was being honest, its only quality was that it was as bright as a lighthouse in the night. This baby attracted men like moths to a flame. For my date with Arthur though, I had tried to tone down the hoe factor by wearing my equally neon green Docs and a baggy denim jacket.

He, on the other hand, was dressed in a much classier way than me. He was wearing beige trousers and a dark blue polo shirt. His white trainers were his only indulgence into casualness.

He let me in and closed the door behind me. He took my jacket and my bag off me, put them both in the closet by the door, and led me into the house. The main room was breathtaking, to say the least, with one entire wall being made of glass so we could see the ocean merge with the horizon line in the distance, with its high ceiling, its mezzanine, its carefully picked furniture and decoration. It also lacked character terribly. Like the exterior, the interior of the house was very white, black, beige, and gray, with straight lines and sharp angles, concrete on the floor, and glass and metal furniture. No colors, no soft edges, no messiness, nothing. It was so clean and tidy that one could have performed surgery there. I was barely exaggerating.

The sun that had begun to set for a while did give the room a nice warm glow, though. Like a moth to a flame – I wasn't better than the men in LA nightclubs, apparently – I walked through the main room and reached the glass wall. I opened the sliding door and all but ran outside, Arthur on my heels. The terrace had light beige tiles with white patio furniture. On the side, the ground had been dug in the shape of a square. The sunken part was furnished with plush couches arranged around a firepit. It looked so cozy it made me want to ball up on those cushions and have long late-night conversations by the light of the fire, maybe roasting a few marshmallows and making smores.

But the most noticeable feature of Arthur's backyard was not his adorable sunken firepit, it was the pool that was strategically placed at the very back of the yard, right before the ground abruptly dropped. It was an infinity pool with black tiling inside, making the water look dark blue – much more luxurious-looking than the typical turquoise of most other pools. If I unfocused my eyes, the infinity side of the pool merged with the ocean. The sun was getting a deeper shade of orange each minute. The sunset was imminent.

"I need to get in," I said while mechanically untying my shoes. I was entranced by the view, as I often was when looking at beautiful landscapes. I had the irrepressible desire to be in that pool while watching the sun set on the ocean, and there was nothing that could keep me from doing so. What I was doing was probably ridiculous, borderline crazy. Did I care? Not for a single second.

"What, right now?" Arthur asked.

"Yes." I removed my socks. I was ready to dive. If I had been with someone else, I would have stripped down to my underwear. But I wasn't with someone else, and I didn't want to make Arthur uncomfortable – well, more uncomfortable – by being half naked in his presence. So I kept the dress on. It's not like I cared about it being ruined by the chlorine in the water.

"Abril, don't be silly. Let me at least get your bag and let you change into a swimsuit. Or I can find you a spare one."

"There's no time. I want to see the sunset."

I cut short any argument by diving headfirst into the water. I swam a few feet underwater and emerged right in front of the infinity edge that offered me the view I was so eager to see. I had spent more than an hour doing my hair and makeup, it was all ruined now. I couldn't have cared less. I took one final step and fully took in the view. Below me was the flank of the hill we were on, with the other mansions it harbored, all as luxurious as Arthur's. At eye level was the Pacific Ocean, with the orange sun shining low, ready to set for the day. I crossed my arms on the ledge of the pool and rested my chin on my hands, crouching down so the rest of my body was in the water. I was ready.

Splash!

What I wasn't ready for, however, was for Arthur to follow me in my craziness and jump fully dressed into his pool.

"What are you doing?" I shrieked. "Are you crazy? You're going to ruin your clothes."

"Sshh," he shushed me, putting one finger on his lips then pointing the same finger towards the sunset I wanted to see so badly. "Look, it's almost time. Don't worry about me and enjoy the view."

So I turned around and I enjoyed the view. I felt the water ripple behind me as Arthur got closer to me. When I thought he was going to stand next to me, he surprised me by placing his hands on either side of my arms and staying behind me, caging me in. He crouched down too and moved as close to me as physically possible, his chest flush against my back. I didn't reject him.

He got even more adventurous and rested his chin on my shoulder. I could hear his steady breathing right in my ear. The warmth of it gave me shivers all the way down my spine. It's in that position that we both watched one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever witnessed.

The sun eventually disappeared below the horizon line, taking away all the magic from the moment. The view was still spectacular, don't get me wrong, but it suddenly felt very wrong, and very weird, to be fully dressed in a swimming pool with that man I barely knew and with whom I was supposed to be on a date.

He sensed the shift in my mind and slowly retreated, peeling away from me.

"What do you say we get back inside before we freeze to death?"

I nodded and followed him to the other side of the pool. He climbed off first then gave me his hands and pulled me out. We both grabbed our shoes and speed walked back to the house. My dress, which already left little to imagination, clung even tighter to my body and was slightly see-through from the fact that it was soaked. Arthur made an immense effort to not let his eyes wander too long but I caught him glimpsing at my boobs.

"I can get you a robe, but I'm personally going to have a quick shower and you're welcome to do the same, if you want to."

At this point my hair, my makeup, and my outfit were ruined. Having a shower could not make me look any worse, so I accepted his offer. He led me to his guest bathroom, which was just as luxurious as the rest of the house with its walk-in shower, its free-standing bathtub, and its double sink. The room was all shades of gray with some warm wood accents. It was gorgeous, if you liked your bathroom to look like a page of an interior design magazine. If I was marveling at the furniture – honestly, I was dying for a bath in that tub – I still found the whole thing too impersonal for my taste.

"Here are the spare towels." He designated the cabinet underneath the sinks. "When you're done, you can give me your clothes and I'll wash and dry them for you. That shouldn't take more than a couple hours. Help yourself to whatever you need in here."

He left me alone so I could take a shower. I was pleasantly surprised to find that his guest bathroom was stocked with hygiene products, especially products that were typically aimed at women. I found a make-up remover and some cotton pads, which I gladly used to clean up the mess that was going on on my face.

I took a long warm shower. He had good quality shampoo and conditioner, so I decided to wash my hair as well. Once I was done, I wrapped my body in a thick fluffy towel and rolled my hair into another one. I opened a few more drawers and found a facial moisturizer and a hair-dryer. It was so considerate of Arthur, a single man living on his own, to keep a bathroom full of these kinds of products. He even had tampons and pads!

When I finished drying my hair, I heard a knock on the door.

"Yes?"

"I brought you a robe. I assume you didn't bring a change of clothes."

I had not.

I opened the door and found a freshly-showered Arthur, dressed in army green trousers and a white button-down. He blushed all the way to the roots of his hair when his eyes landed on my body wearing only a towel.

"Here." He handed me the robe and I put it on before getting rid of my towel. "Can I get your clothes?"

I put my dress in his open hands, then my socks, and, with a cheeky smile, I put a teeny tiny lacey black thong on top of the pile of clothes. He turned an even deeper shade of red. I had worn one of my rare sexy underwear that day. I usually didn't care much about that, but for once I did.

"If you go to the guest room next door," he pointed at the door with his chin, "you'll find some women's clothes you can borrow, if you wish to."

"You have women's clothes in your guest room?"

"Yes," he replied like it was the most normal thing in the world. "I also have spare men's clothes."

"Why?"

"I like to be prepared for when I have guests over. We never know what can happen, it doesn't hurt to have extra clothes."

"Do you often find yourself in a situation where your guests take their clothes off?" I asked with a wiggle of my brows.

"Not in the way you're thinking, but yes. Believe it or not, you're not the first person who ended up fully dressed in my pool."

I laughed.

"Do you often have people here?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "Only when Theodora convinces me to host our monthly gathering with our group of friends from college. I usually try to avoid it."

"Why? And you should really start calling her Theo."

"Right. Theo. Well, first of all I tend not to attend those gatherings. It's not really my thing. And secondly, I like my friends, but they're not the tidiest nor the cleanest drunks. And as you might have gathered, I like my house to be clean and tidy."

You don't say!

"I see." I looked behind me and suddenly felt super self-conscious about the condensation on the mirror and the water marks on the floor and the shower wall that I had yet to wipe. "I'll clean that. And I'll do my best to make as little of a mess as possible."

"Oh no, please. Make yourself at home, don't worry about any of that! That last comment wasn't directed at you."

I smiled and he left to go put my stuff in the washer. I entered the guest room and opened the top drawer of the dresser. I found a collection of plain black cotton underwear, available in different sizes. And they were not just any underwear, they were Calvin Klein briefs and bralette sets. I picked my size and put them on, as well as thick white socks. In the other drawers, I found black leggings, white tee-shirts, and gray hoodies. Again, all were available in a variety of sizes.

When I came back to the main living area, Arthur was at the stove, a mouth-watering smell filling the room. He had covered his dining table with a black cloth, laid out square white plates with elegant silverware and glassware, and lit a couple of gold candles.

"It'll be done in a minute, you can take a seat."

He followed me to the table and, like a true gentleman, pulled out my chair for me. He opened a bottle of white wine and poured me a glass for me to drink while I waited. Good boy. I took a sip. It was unsurprisingly one of the best wines I had ever tasted.

A few minutes later, he stole my plate and brought it back to me filled with scallops, asparagus, and a dark sauce. He served his plate next then sat in front of me. I had already finished my wine so he poured me another glass and poured himself one.

He looked at me expectantly when I took my first bite. And God must he have been happy with the show because what I was eating was just divine. The scallops melted in my mouth, the asparagus were the right balance between crunchy and soft, and the whole thing was tied together with this delicious sauce made of honey, soy sauce, and probably a lot of other things that I did not recognize.

"Dios mío, Arthur! That's delicious!"

A small side-smile tugged at his lips.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I more than just like it. It's like, restaurant quality. I didn't know you could cook that well."

Then again, I didn't know many things about him. That was a first date, after all.

"Well, there are many things you don't know about me." Yeah, what I said. "And there are many things I don't know about you."

"Well, we can try to change that. What would you like to know about me?"

"You know what I want to know."

In a very theatrical move that I did not even do on purpose, I froze with my mouth open, just about to take another bite of the food, and glared at him. Why did he have to do that? Yes, I knew what he was dying to know about me. He wanted to know why I had dropped out of Caltech, and my answer was the same: not your goddamn business.

"But I know you do not wish to share that story with me yet, so I won't ask you again."

"Thank you."

"So instead, I'm going to ask you what your intentions are with Valentine."

Still in a theatrical mood, apparently, my eyes widened in surprise. Where was that coming from?

"Really?" I asked. "Don't you want to ask me what country I would like to visit or what's on my bucket list instead? Or, I don't know, anything that could be considered a light subject?"

"I do, and I fully plan on asking you all that. But I feel like I need to have some clarification from you first."

"It's just a date, Arthur. A first date at that. We don't have to go into the nitty gritty right now. We can just... I don't know, enjoy the food, the wine, and each other's company?"

What did I know, though? I had never been on a 'first date'. Josh and I had gone on plenty of dates, but we were already together when we went, so it's not like the purpose of them was to get to know each other or whatever one does on a first date. Maybe the safest option was indeed to be direct about what each party's expectations were.

"Please, Abril. It might not be conventional but I'd much rather we did it this way."

Well, if it was that important to him, I could give him that. It's not like I was planning to hide anything.

"Okay, I'll answer your questions, but only if you agree to answer a question of mine in return."

I had had this question in the back of my mind for a while and I had never had a reply to it. That was the perfect opportunity for me to cast light on this mystery.

"Is that question deeply personal?"

"Not at all. It's not even about you."

"Oh. In that case we have a deal."

We shook hands on it, then got ourselves a refill on the wine for liquid courage.

"Fire away."

"What's the situation with you and Valentine?"

"For the love of God, Arthur, start calling people by the name they prefer! It's Val!"

"Val himself, as well as all the friends you've met, keep calling me Art despite my multiple requests for them to call me Arthur, so why should I make this effort for them?"

"Huh. Point taken."

"Thank you very much. And so, you and Val?"

"We slept together once, it will not happen again," I said with a shrug.

"How can you be so sure you won't do it again?"

"Because that's what I do. I sleep with people once, and that's it. No repeats, no second chances, no nothing."

A light pink was coloring his cheeks.

"Why?" He asked.

Back into the nitty gritty we were. But he already sort of knew the answer to that, so it wasn't so hard to confess this time.

"I don't want any emotional attachment, remember?"

"Right." He looked down, his face sad. "Why did you say yes to this date, then?"

Erm, excuse me? You asked me out and didn't let me say no.

"Because you looked eager and I didn't want to make you sad," I replied instead, and I found myself believing those words that were supposed to be a lie.

"I see. Do you expect sex tonight?"

"Yes."

After all, I hadn't showed up there in my lacy underwear just for the sake of it. What a shame that the aforementioned underwear had had to be thrown in the washer.

"Let me be very clear," he announced, "this is not going to happen. I will not have sex with you tonight."

That hurt more than it should have. It was always a bit offending to be denied sex, so a bit of frustration was to be expected, it's not like I wasn't used to it. Yet, if it wasn't my first time being told no, this time hurt my ego the most. Why would Arthur go through all the trouble of getting me to go on a date with him if he didn't want me?

"You're right, then," I laughed it off. "Why did I say yes to this date?"

Silence. Maybe that wasn't as funny as I thought.

"If I gave up and gave you what you want tonight – I won't, I'm just curious – would you do with me like you did with Val and not see me ever again?"

"Probably, yeah."

"Abril..." He shook his head. "I can't do that. I'm sorry but I can't."

Of course, he couldn't. He wasn't into casual, he had said so himself. That was all a huge mistake.

"I should go."

"No!" He cried out before I even had the time to finish my sentence. Then he cleared his throat. "I mean, of course you are free to go whenever you want, but why don't you at least finish dinner?"

"But—You know I won't change my mind, right?"

"I'm not asking you to."

"But it's a date."

"Let's make it not a date, then. It's just a dinner between friends."

"Since when are we friends?"

He sighed heavily.

"As much as I appreciate your honesty, Abril, try it with a bit of tact, maybe? Perhaps this dinner could be the perfect opportunity for us to get to know each other and become friends."

That was yet another recipe for disaster. Wasn't it my role, as the person whose mind wouldn't change, to put an end to it before anyone's heart got broken? Hadn't the situation with Cedric been enough of a lesson?

"Don't overthink it, Abril. Two people, dinner. That's it. No expectations from either side. Why don't you ask me the question you wanted to ask me?"

Damn me and my thirst for gossip.

"Okay," I conceded. "What's the deal with Bishop?"

He suddenly had trouble swallowing. I knew there was something juicy there! Anthony Bishop was a joke of a man.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try and play dumb with me, Arthur. Why do you have to send secret messages to him at work? And what was that comment about his marriage that you made over dinner?"

"Oh, you picked up on that?"

"Anybody would have picked up on that. It's not like you were being subtle. What is it?"

"Well, the 'secret' message I had you give him was actually an RSVP for the dinner we attended. Or tried to attend, really. I don't thank you for your delivery job, by the way, I got an earful from him that day, he was furious that the document had not got straight to him but to his PA instead."

"Why was it so important? It's literally her job to pass along documents and messages to him."

"She's nosy and she tends to open his mail, even the confidential one."

I could smell the drama that he was not telling me.

"Get to the point, Arthur, why would she do that?"

"Anthony and she had... They had an affair together."

"Shut the fuck up!"

He frowned at me, and I'm sure he was very close to scolding me and saying 'language!' but thankfully he did not do it.

"Sorry," I apologized. "But don't stop here, give me some details!"

"Well, it's pretty straightforward, really. They had a semi-serious affair a few years ago, and it lasted several months, more than a year, I think. He cut things off eventually and he started having an affair with somebody else. But Megan, his PA, found out, and now the whole thing is messier than it has ever been. She's spying on everything she can at work, trying to figure out who his new mistress is. He would like to fire her but she's threatening to tell his wife if he does. So yes, consequently, we've resorted to passing along 'secret messages' to remain under her radar. And yes, I'm aware that makes us sound like middle schoolers."

We deadpanned for a second. That sounded like the most grotesque telenovela one could think of. Then we just started laughing hysterically. True laughter out of sheer amusement. It felt so good.

"So much of that file drama could have been avoided if you'd just called him," I said, wiping away the laugh tears with the back of my hand.

"Don't try to find any kind of logic in this situation, there is none."

"I'm surprised you're entertaining him, though."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't strike me as someone who would condone adultery. I wonder why you would make it easier for him to cheat on his wife."

"Just so you we're clear, I don't condone adultery." The image of Victor Dullac briefly appeared in my mind but I swiftly chased it away. "But you and I are from different worlds, Abril. You're all about brutal, naked truth. In my world, we try to preserve the peace and quiet at all costs, even if that means helping other people lie."

"Your world sounds like it's full of hypocrites."

"And your world sounds like everybody is uncomfortable and walking on eggshells. I wouldn't want to be constantly faced with the harsh truth if I could avoid it. Ignorance is bliss, sometimes."

He had a point, but of course I didn't admit it out loud. I just stayed silent and raised my empty glass to ask for more wine. I read on his face that he knew he'd scored a point. He was graceful enough not to gloat and refilled my glass until the bottle was empty. Once again: good boy.

Our plates empty, he took them away and went back to the kitchen part of the open-plan room, where he got started on our main dish. In the meantime, I was still drinking my wine and watching him. There was something attractive about a man who could cook, especially when I was a disaster in the kitchen myself.

"Do you cook often?" I asked.

"All the time. I barely eat out, except for when I use the company cafeteria. What I cook every day is much less sophisticated than this meal, though."

"Aw, did you make a fancy meal just for me?"

"Of course. It's a da—a nice dinner with a friend after all."

When he saw me glower at him for his terrible attempt at humor, he approached me with a fresh bottle of wine, red this time. He already knew me too well. I finished the white that I had left and he poured me a generous amount of red.

A moment later, he served me an outrageously tender-looking steak with broccoli and gratin dauphinois. I loved creamy potatoes, but I hated broccoli.

"Are you all right?" Arthur inquired.

"Yeah, it's just... I'm really sorry but I don't like broccoli."

"Of course you don't." He snickered. "That's no problem at all, just give them to me." He took my plate and transferred the broccoli from my plate to his. "I can make you something else instead. I have lettuce, tomatoes, bell peppers... What would you like? I can make you a salad."

"Oh no, don't worry about it. I'll be fine with just the potatoes. And the wine, obviously."

"Obviously," he laughed again. "Are you sure? It will take me less than five minutes to throw something together."

"Yes, I'm sure. Just potatoes and wine is all I need."

He smiled and obliged.

By the end of the dinner – the dessert was homemade crème brûlée – we had finished the bottle of red and gotten started on the champagne. I would be lying if I said I wasn't tipsy. Okay, I was totally hammered. Arthur seemed okay, though. Maybe that's because I was doing most of the drinking.

"Do you want to go outside?" He suggested. "I was thinking of starting a fire in the pit."

Fire? It sounded like a good idea. I grabbed my flute, the bottle of champagne, and bolted outside without waiting for Arthur. The night air was cold. Oh well, I had the bubbles to warm me up. I made my way to the cozy hole in Arthur's backyard where there were light beige cushioned couches arranged around a round firepit made of stone. The pit was filled with pellets of shiny, light blue glass. They looked like crystals. I reached for my lighter to try and start any kind of fire to keep me warm. Then I realized I had left my lighter in my bag, which was inside. I had the brightest in the world and decided to try and make a spark with the crystal thingies. Crystals are like rocks, surely that would work.

Except it didn't. Maybe all it needed was a bit of alcohol to help the fire-making process.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Arthur shrieked as I was about to pour some of that delicious champagne on the very much unlit pieces of glass.

"I'm trying to start a fire," I explained, although it seemed quite obvious.

He rushed to my side and wrenched the bottle away from me to put it safely on the floor. He forced open my fingers and took my crystals from me too, only to put them back in the fire pit.

"Hey!" I complained. "I needed those to light my fire."

"How drunk are you?"

"A bit." I laughed. I was more than a bit drunk. "But I'm sober enough to know that you need a spark and a flammable material to start a fire."

It was his turn to laugh.

"Sure. But there is a much better way to do it than using fireproof glass and an expensive champagne whose alcohol content is nowhere near high enough to catch on fire. Why don't you let me do it?"

I crossed my arms on my chest and pouted while he turned a few knobs on the side of the fire pit and, just like magic, a flame appeared in the middle of the sea of glass.

He picked up the fluffy blanket I hadn't realized he'd brought and put it on my shoulders, then instructed me to sit on the couch. Only then did he give me back my precious bubbles, of which I took a generous sip.

"It's better this way, isn't it?" He smirked.

"Meh, I could have done it just fine."

"I'm sure you could have."

"Why do you stand here? Come sit next to me!" I told him, extending one arm to my side to open the blanket and invite him in.

He was hesitant for a second but eventually took a seat on the couch, awkwardly far from me. I was having none of it and I scooted closer to him, then I wrapped us both in the blanket. I ignored his obvious discomfort and placed his arm on my shoulder, while I nestled against him. I took a long inhale, letting the smell of his cologne hypnotize me. God, did he smell good.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm sniffing you."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you smell very good."

I stuffed my nose in his neck and sniffed harder. That smell was so addictive.

"Could you, maybe, not do that?" He asked with a strained voice, gently pulling me away from him.

"But why?" I whined, pushing myself closer to him.

"Because," he wrapped his fingers around my wrists and pulled my hands away, gently but firmly enough that I couldn't escape his grasp, "you are making me uncomfortable. I'm sure you know I don't like it when people invade my personal space."

"Oh."

Something deflated in me. My face dropped, as well as my hands, which Arthur let go of. I retreated, scooching away from him. I finished my cup of champagne, desperate for something to distract me from the humiliation I started to feel. I filled it again and drank some more. The blanket had fallen off Arthur's shoulders. I didn't put it back on him and pulled it all to myself instead.

I brought my knees to my chest and looked up. The sky was clear and full of stars, my favorite kind of sky. Because we were on the southern part of the Palos Verdes peninsula, the light pollution of LA had very little influence on the dark sky. The view was perfect.

I started reminiscing of the time when I would float for hours on my back, in the swimming pool, watching the stars with Josh, trying to spot constellations. Life was easy back then, I was happy. I found Aquarius immediately, from years of experience at finding it. Instinctively, my hand reached out for the tattoo on my hip. Some tears welled up in my eyes but I fought them back, shaking my head. I had been atrociously emotional lately, I wasn't used to it anymore. But I had to find a way. I loved watching the stars, I couldn't just stop doing it because it brought back sad memories. So I powered through and I kept watching, ignoring the way the salt of my tears was burning my eyes.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence and brutally snapping me back to reality. I had zoned out for a while.

"What? No, I'm fine."

"Come here," he said, opening his arm for me.

"Why? You just said you didn't want me in your space."

"That's not that. I want you in my space, it's just hard for me to allow people to get close to me. It's easier if I'm the one initiating the contact."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. It's good to challenge myself sometimes."

I guess we were both trying to fight our inner demons. I did not try to fight him any longer and scooted to my original place, next to him. I let him pull me close with his arm and I rested my head on his shoulder. I could see the eerie light of the swimming pool in the distance. It was calling my name.

"I really want to dive into that pool right now."

"I'm going to put my foot down and say that it's completely out of the question."

"Why?"

"Because you're intoxicated and that would be extremely unreasonable and dangerous."

"Wow, you must be so much fun at parties."

"As you can imagine, I'm not."

"Anyway, it's not like you can physically stop me."

On that note, I escaped his embrace and made a run for the pool.

Except that I took exactly two steps before he realized what I was doing and yanked me back down by pulling on my arm. I didn't land on his lap. That was too cliché. But as I thrashed to wiggle myself out of his hold, he pulled me onto his lap, one hand on my knees, the other wrapped around my waist. This could have passed for a not-so-subtle attempt at flirting but the firm grip he had on me fooled no-one: he was actually holding me in place.

Still, though, we were closer than we had ever been. I turned my head and locked eyes with him. It was intense. I got the urge to lean in and go for the kiss, but I didn't. That wasn't his style. Instead, I brought my hand to his hair and dug my fingers in it, smoothing it away from his face. He didn't recoil from the contact but instead closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation.

"Your hair looks sexy pushed back," I said when I was done playing with it, then started laughing like a maniac at my awesome reference.

"Erm, what's so funny?"

"Come on! 'Your hair looks sexy pushed back!' You don't know where it's from?"

"I'm afraid I don't."

"It's from Mean Girls!"

"I've never watched it."

I brought my hands to my chest in shock. How could he have missed this key part of millennial pop culture?

"I am truly offended by what you just said. This movie is a masterpiece!"

"I believe you. Do you want to watch it right now? I have a nice TV."

"You—You'd watch Mean Girls with me?"

"Yes. It sounds like I am missing out."

And just like that, we went back inside, got comfortable on the couch, my back flush against his chest and his arms embracing my upper body, and we watched Mean Girls.

I don't know whether he liked the movie, but he never said that he disliked it. He even laughed when Regina George said some of her iconic punchlines, and he laughed the hardest when the scene with 'your hair looks sexy pushed back' came on. I was glad he could understand the reference, now.

When the movie was over, we stayed as we were for a while. His knuckles were caressing my arm and, if I didn't know him, I would have thought it was an automatic mindless movement. But I did know him, at least marginally, and I knew this touch was all but mindless.

The motion was both soothing and electrifying. It gave me goosebumps, and at the same time I melted deeper in his chest, my eyes closing of their own accord.

* * *

I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine, in a room that wasn't mine. Not that it had never happened before, but the absence of a second body next to mine and the presence of all my clothes on my own body made everything confusing. I recognized this room as Arthur's guest bedroom. My phone was on the bedside table, along with a tall glass of water and what I would have bet was painkillers. On the chair was my dress, my socks, and my thong, all nicely folded in a pile. Even my bag and my jacket had somehow made it to this room.

I took the medicine and the water and got out of bed. I made my way to the main living area. There was a greasy paper bag of pastries on the kitchen island and the fancy espresso machine was already set up, all I had to do was press a button to get coffee. I snooped around until I found a cup and let the machine pour me a cup of expensive coffee, which I then drowned in milk and sugar. I took a croissant out of the bag and went on a treasure hunt to find the remarkably thoughtful redhead who owned this place.

I went upstairs, to the mezzanine that overlooked the living room. The banister was made of hard cold glass, which matched the inside of the house but looked way too impractical in my opinion. I heard some heavy panting coming from the hallway, so I followed the noise. I opened the door behind which the noise was coming from and entered the room.

There were two notable things in this room that happened to be Arthur's personal gym. One, the entire western wall of it was a window that overlooked the ocean I liked so much. Two, Arthur was in sports shorts and shirtless, rowing his life away on an erg machine. He was facing the view and had headphones on, so he didn't realize I had entered the room.

When I entered his field of vision, he was startled, but he kept rowing. He held up two fingers to indicate that he would be done in two minutes.

So I waited. And I enjoyed the show. Arthur had always looked quite skinny to me, and don't get me wrong, he was on the thinner side. But what his clothes had failed to show thus far was the muscle definition of his legs. Those juicy quads could have crushed my skull, I'm sure. And his shoulders... The pronounced dips between his traps and his deltoids were just as mouth-watering. Add almost-nakedness and sexy sweat to that combo and I became way too horny so early in the morning, especially for a man I had never considered attractive.

"You should have used a plate, you're dragging crumbs everywhere."

I was so absorbed in my daydreaming that I had not registered that Arthur had stopped rowing and put his shirt back on. That annoying comment snapped me back to the present really fast, though.

"Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart."

He cringed at hearing me call him a silly pet name.

"I would hardly call it morning, it's almost noon."

Somebody was on fire. I rolled my eyes and took another bite of my croissant, watching the crumbs as they fell on the floor.

"Did somebody spit in your coffee or something?" I snarked.

"No, I—just, please, be careful."

I had looked for him right out of bed because I wanted to say thank you, for the nice evening we had spent together, for letting me sleep there, for leaving me some painkillers, for buying me breakfast. And also, if I was being honest, I had been eager to be in his company.

After those comments, though, I just wanted to match his energy and be a bitch. Or just go back to sleep and wake up when he was in a better mood. But I did no such thing. This was an opportunity for growth and, for once, I took it. I bit my tongue and replied nothing, and instead I went to get a sponge to clean up my mess.

"Where are you going?" He asked before I reached the door.

"I'm getting something to clean up the crumbs."

"Wait, don't."

He got off the erg and met me by the door.

"Don't bother, I'll do it later. Or my maid will. Whoever gets to it first."

"I'm very confused now. Why make such a big deal out of it if it's not that important?"

"It is important, but you're my guest, I won't make you clean my house."

"You made it sound like you wanted me to, though!"

"Look. I'm very sorry. I can be a bit snappy sometimes, but I'm working on it."

Sometimes? SOMETIMES?

"Whatever," I replied.

I was not in the mood to be grateful anymore, not for his hospitality nor his company. So I didn't say anything after that. What was the point? He had ruined the moment.

"I've upset you, haven't I?"

"Yes."

"I'm truly sorry about that. I really need to work on my social skills."

I shrugged. Yes, he really did.

"Would a hug help?" He offered.

I shrugged again. It probably wouldn't.

"Please work with me here, Abril," he requested. "Surely that's something we can work past. How do you usually solve conflicts?"

"I find sex to be an effective way of making up with someone."

He looked down at me, shaking his head and unimpressed.

"But I guess I could settle for a hug."

This sentence at least managed to put a faint smile on his lips. He pulled me into his chest and wrapped his arms around my ribcage. I let my hands wander on his shoulders and upper arms, getting a feel of the muscles whose existence I had never suspected. I could feel each of his muscles tense underneath my fingertips as knee-jerk reaction to physical touch. The fact that he didn't pull away immediately was his way of telling me he was sorry.

When I started grazing my fingers up and down his spine, however, he slowly retreated.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I need a minute, that's a lot of... touching."

I immediately took a step back and looked him in the eye. I truly meant it when I said, "don't worry, that's okay," and gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back at me.

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Not just for the nice time I had with you last night, but also for taking care of me so well when I was drunk. I didn't plan to sleep over, I'm sorry I essentially forced you to let me spend the night here."

His smile brightened.

"You are welcome, and you have nothing to be sorry about. This is a big house, it can use another occupant for one night."

"And thank you for carrying me to bed, for washing my clothes, for leaving me some painkillers, for buying me breakfast. It was all very thoughtful."

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't want to."

This made my heart melt a little bit. But just for a fraction of a second.

"Do you have plans for this afternoon?" He asked.

I shook my head. No, I didn't have plans for this Sunday afternoon.

"How would you like to stay over for lunch? And maybe we could try to get into the pool again? With proper swimming attire this time."

"I'll stay on one condition."

He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for what came next.

"What condition?" He asked nervously.

"I want to watch the sunset again."

"Does that mean you're staying until sunset, then?" He asked in a tone he tried to disguise as playful but really was just excited.

"It sure looks like I am."

"Then it's a deal."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Hi everyone!

I hope you're all coping well, it suddenly got super cold here in the UK 🥶🥶 But at least it's Christmas soon so silver linings?

Next chapter on Friday, please vote and comment if you're enjoying my story.

Love,
Charlie.