"Where are you going?" I ask Ben's back. He's at the door. His hand is on the handle. I thought he wanted honesty, and saying yes to the sex was as honest as I could get there. It's been what, eight months since I've had any? And maybe I should've said something coy or less horny, but... Ben pushes the lock button on the door.

"No more interruptions," he says.

Freaking nerves. This is Ben, and I should have a bit more faith. He one of the people I can rely on to say what he means and mean what he says. Although the kiss brought some of my dreams to life, it also brought the fears. The insecurities. Sex with Ben at the end of our relationship was still with me in the lead. Based on what Angie and Tall told me, he's not been waiting for me or pining for me to return. He had a life and a sex life, and what was a discovery with me the first time around might no longer correspond to reality.

Ben's hands are back to playing the piano on the sides of his legs. Neither of us moves to resume the kiss. I want to get past this phase where my brain is in charge and is telling me how crazy and irresponsible and inadequate I am. I'd much rather skip to the moment I forget everything that is not related to satisfying the urge that has been eating me inside since I first stepped into Ben's house.

"I have one condom in my wallet." Ben slides his wallet out of the back pocket and takes the black and silver square out. Must've been leftover from Linda. Or has there been someone since Linda? Several someones, maybe. I never asked. He went on a lot of dates according to Angie and Tall, before he got back with Linda. Can it even count as getting back if he only went on two dates with her before?

"Amelie?"

"Yes?"

"Is it weird for you too?"

The hesitation in his voice is my answer. He's not trying to seduce another girl to add to his list of conquests. I'm not doing it because I'm just a horny. We are doing it because it's us.

"Very." I roll my lips between my teeth. "I'm still interested if you are." A sliver of doubt pierces my confidence.

"Very. I am very interested."

We step to each other at the same time and his hands are on my face, my neck stretches up to find his lips. The fury of skin against skin annihilates the awkwardness. The haste isn't agreed upon. We unbutton, pull, tug, step out of. The high of having Ben at my fingertips stokes my fire. The pile of our clothes on the floor is the only way to reach the state where the heat of his body against mine cools me. I kiss the freckles on his chest. He runs his knuckles down my spine and presses me to him. The bed is the only available surface for what's the inevitable next stage. In sync, we aim for it but our bodies turn the steps into a tango with dips, hands moving and legs entwined, not helping the progress.

The back of my thighs touches the cool material of the sheet. Destination achieved. The twin bed creaks when Ben sets me on it. He rips the packet open. My ankles lock around his waist and I my brain turns off. No more use for it. No more me. It's we. We merge, we are, we are back. We glide against each other and I bask in the feel of the moment. This is better than I remembered. My breath catches and I moan into Ben's mouth again. This time it's the longest sound, and it matches the sensations inside. I love this. I love him. How have I lived without this feeling? How I can't imagine living without it again. Madness. Not doing that any longer.

We lie across the bed, still connected. It creaks, creaks again and we are falling. The bed, me and Ben on top of me. The flat surface tilts and we slide then roll off and into a stack of boxes, that fly out of our way like the bowling pins.

"We broke Tall's bed." These are the first words Ben says. He lifts himself up on his elbows and looks over me. Ben pulls away, takes off the condom and ties it. I know who'll be tying off the balloons at the next party. "Trash can?"

"Don't have one yet." I giggle. Naked on the floor at the foot of the broken bed with a used condom dangling in his fingers is not an image I had in any of my dreams, no matter how dirty. I love it.

"I'll fix the bed before we use it again. I don't have another condom, so we couldn't have done it today anyway."

"Sleeping on the floor tonight, I guess. Haven't done that since high school sleepovers."

"I have a California King."

"With Egyptian Cotton five hundred count thread sheets?" I smile at the memories.

"Yes." Ben is not smiling.

"Is this an invitation?" He can't be serious.

"Yes."

"After dinner?" Because if he is serious I won't be able to say no.

"We can skip dinner. If you prefer."

Tempting, but I can control myself enough to wait until after dinner. And I'm actually hungry and Angie and Mike were way too excited about this outing to be understanding if we cancel on them.

"Are we telling Angie and Mike about this?"

"That we had sex?"

I wince. "Definitely not in those words."

"Which words then? What would you say?"

"Nothing? For now? Because it's not like we have a plan. Maybe we shouldn't say anything." I lay my head on his chest.

"I don't like this idea." His voice comes from above me and rumbles under my ear at the same time. "You know that me and lying isn't a good combination."

"Not lying. Just... not mentioning it."

"That's what I did when I met you. And that didn't end well. Not doing it to our friends."

Damn it. He's right, but also what will Angie and Mike think? Announcing a onetime 'dalliance' isn't prudent. Although spending the night at Ben's will lead to more dalliances. I hope. It better.

"What are we telling them?"

***

We walk into the restaurant, and I take my hand out of Ben's. He reaches out and interlaces our finders again.

"Not hiding anything, remember?"

My cheeks burn and I can't breathe. Those are Mike and Angie. They know us. They will be happy for us. None of these words help me calm down. I'd rather run out of the door and not see my friends again for a week or a month until whatever Ben and I are doing settles and takes shape. This feels too much like a walk of shame.

The hostess leads us to Angie and Mike's backs.

Here we go.

"Finally," Mike says when I put a hand on the back of the chair next to Angie. She turns around and zeroes in on our hands. Mike's staring at my face, then Ben's, then Angie's. They stare at each other and toothy smiles bloom.

"Let me know when you are ready for me to collect my winnings," Mike says to Angie.

He touches her nose with his. "If your parents'll stay overnight, we can do it tonight."

"Ew," comes out of my mouth.

"Hey, look who's talking." Angie looks back at me. "We can smell it on you. And you have no idea what we are talking about."

"It's the 'Avengers' movie marathon. Can you believe Angie's never seen one?"

"I can," I say. "If it's not something sad or romantic, Angie probably hasn't seen it."

"Or if it's reality TV." Ben pulls my chair out for me and slides it in when I sit down.

"That was Amelie's influence. She got me into that and now I'm addicted. I have to follow the drama."

Ben sits to my left and picks up the menu.

"Let me text Mom and Dad," says Angie. "I don't know why we didn't schedule a night where you and I are both out of the apartment. An oversight we need to correct."

Ben's hand lands on my lap and stays there. I open the menu.

"Mike has news." Angie raises her eyebrows at him, and Mike rubs the stubble on his chin. "I got a request to make the Taekwondo Academy a franchise."

Ben leans forward, and the tapping on my thigh starts.

"The locations could be spread nationally. They can use our program, and enrollment system, and the back office applications we put together. The employee trainings. Everything that makes the Academy great."

"You are what makes it great," says Ben.

I look at him. He looks at me. "It's true. I've been on this journey with him for five years and he's the key to the success."

"Fuck it, man," says Mike, "you're making me cry." Mike hides his eyes behind his hand.

Angie kisses her husband's cheek. It's almost like the movies Angie likes so much.

We order, and the chef begins his show. Eggs are flying, flames surprise us, and Mike catches the shrimp with his mouth. The warmth from the hibachi table equals the warmth these three people bring into my life. No one is teasing Ben and I, and the conversation flows as if we've been a couple for a while and this is another one of double dates in a series of many we've been on before. I laugh at Mike's corny jokes and melt from Ben's open touches of affection. I can get used to this. I want to get used to this.

"I'll share as well," says Angie when the chef leaves and it's the four of us. "I'm going back to work." Angie plays with the veggie rice on her plate. "I've had three singers ask for songwriting sessions. All out of state. And I couldn't even imagine leaving Kora or taking her with me and do what with her when I am in the studio? We had a conversation and my parents will come with me for the two weeks I'll be away. Mike will visit us at least once. We'll see how that works and decide if we can do that going forward." Mike puts his arm around her shoulders.

"We'll figure it out. We've figured things out before. Fuck the public opinion. And if you need to go by yourself and leave Kora, we'll handle that as well. We love you." Mike buries his face in the crook of Angie's neck.

"We do love you, Angie," I say. I cover her hand with mine. "I can always help on the weekends. I'll even do an overnight stay if you guys need a break. Not much help during the work week though."

"Thanks. The offer means a lot." Angie's tension lessens. "What's going on with you, then Professor D'Amico?"

"It makes me look around for my dad every time anyone calls me that." I smile. "I'm trying to find my way into the faculty clique. Not much success there. Had two student drop my courses already and I'm back to twelve-hour workdays. No idea how people have families with this job. I don't have a TA this year, so I'm the professor and the TA. Grading is on me alongside with prep and the classes and the office hours, and I'm trying to finish the article for the magazine I started in summer." And I need to find time and student to tutor. I keep that part to myself. My friends don't need to know I'm in financial trouble. Again. The biggest part of living on my own that I'm failing at is the money. There's never any left at the end of the month and I struggle to understand where it all went. This month renting the moving truck and paying for this meal will put me in the red again.

"Busy-busy. Hope you're enjoying it though," says Angie.

"Scared I'm messing up every day I enter the classroom but it is what I wanted. Sort of dream come true. Talk to me at the end of this semester and we'll see if I change my tune." I laugh. The joy and fear mix when I remind myself I am a professor now. It's no longer something to strive for. I did it. I achieved something. There's no time to enjoy the laurels, because tenure is the next goal on my list.

My phone rings. I reach into my bag to get it and give an apology grimace to my friends.

It's an unknown number.

"Hello?" I say.

"Bonsoir," says Nicolás. His voice is out of place in this restaurant, with my Chicago friends around me. With Ben next to me.

"Bonsoir." My reply is automatic. Why is he calling me from a US number?

"I'm in Chicago," he answers my unasked question. "We should meet." His bass moves through the French words and my mind conjures an image of Nicolás's graying temples and brown eye behind the stylish glasses. The backdrop is the streets of Nantes, not those of Chicago. He can't fit into this life. "You still there, Amelie?"

I glance around. Mike and Ben are talking about the dojang again. Angie is typing on her phone. This picture doesn't match with the voice on the phone. "I'm listening."

"I can come by your place tomorrow or I'll be on UChicago campus Monday."

"Not tomorrow. I'm not available."

"Monday then. I'll come by your office around lunch and we can eat together. Is the cafeteria food as bad as you described it?"

"It is." I can't say no, don't come. Can I? That'd be worse. That'd mean there's something wrong about us seeing each other again. "My office is on the second floor."

"I'll text you when I get there. Can't wait."

"Yes. See you Monday."

He hangs up and I save the number under 'Nicolás Hallot (Chicago)'.

Nicolás's call isn't a complete surprise. I knew it will happen at some point. He comes to Chicago several times a year. It was how we connected in the first place. Over Chicago. I've been pining for Chicago during my years in France: wanting what you can't have, that's me all right. Pining for Ben, even if I didn't want to admit it. Nicolás helped me for part of them and I'm not sure Ben knows. And I'm even less sure if I should mention anything about Monday. The exes conversation isn't on the agenda. Yet. It can wait. I'll tell him after I see how the lunch with Nicolás goes: I want to enjoy whatever Ben and I started today. Re-started. It's not too much to ask for contentment for a while. I give myself permission to ignore the what ifs and all other questions that are waiting on the sidelines, biding their time to attack me.

The phone back in my purse I resurface, back into the noisy restaurant with Mike, Angie and Ben. Ben's hand is still on my thigh under the table.

2/21/21: For those who wondering what was Amelie up to in France and if she was dating anyone, you have your answer. 

Let me know what you think about the sex scene. It was so fun to write it without using any explicit languge, sort of a neat challenge. I hope it still was hot.