I don’t think that’s it, though. If anything, her untouchability has kept me away from her for a long time. And, after all, I now know firsthand that she’s not so untouchable.
And what was she trying to say at the Millers’ house, about not wanting me to treat her like a little kid? Does that mean she wants me to pursue her? Could she possibly be interested in me? Was that her way of telling me to quit putting her on a pedestal, to see her as the grown woman that she is?
Because she is a grown woman. She’s not that nerdy little kid that used to play dolls with Clara, or even the teenager in the little pink swimsuit who I lusted after from afar, knowing it was inappropriate because of our ages at the time. But everything is different now. We are both experienced adults who can make their own decisions.
I can almost convince myself that it would be okay to pursue Madison when I suddenly think of Axel and Clara. What would they think if they knew I was going after Madison?
And what would going after Madison even mean? Do I just want a friendship? No, I answer myself instantly. I’m far too attracted to her to just want to be friends. Friends shouldn’t make your cock come alive the way mine does around Madison, or even when I just think about her.
I picture her face in the club after I turned the lights on in the small, dark room. Her flushed cheeks, the redness around her mouth from my stubble scratching her soft skin, her lips swollen from kissing mine. I shift around in the passenger seat to conceal my growing erection from Axel, who has finally stopped talking and turned on the radio.
I look out the window at the scenery and passing cars. So, if it’s not friendship I want from Madison, what is it? A relationship? A casual fling? A fuck buddy? Would she want any of those things with me? I have no idea what her romantic history is. Now I know for certain that she’s not a virgin, but is she dating anyone? Has she ever had a serious boyfriend? Does she sleep around?
None of it really matters, except if I knew I’d have a better idea of whether or not she’d be open to any sort of relationship with me, physical or otherwise. I don’t care if she, or any woman, for that matter, has slept with one or one hundred other guys; I’m no angel myself. Before Jasmine, I enjoyed going out with the guys and chasing girls at bars. I loved all of it, the thrill of the hunt, the game of flirtation and seduction, and of course, sealing the deal with some hot sex at my place or theirs at the end of the night. But after Jasmine, I don’t have the heart for it anymore. Now that I know how much better sex with someone you really know and care about can be, I crave a connection like that again, even if it’s just physical.
I try to remember anything that Clara has told me about Madison that would point to clues about her dating life. I know Clara’s always complaining that Madison works too much and is always busy. I know about her family history, and that maybe she got in some sort of trouble at school a few years ago because I remember Clara being worried about her for a short time. But I don’t remember ever hearing anything about a boyfriend or any guys. Clara is the boy-crazy one and dates around like a lot of college girls do. It’s so easy now with all the dating apps, bars, and other ways to meet people. So why hasn’t a gorgeous, smart girl like Madison found anybody?
I’m not going to be able to get Madison out of my head. She’s like an itch that I just can’t reach to scratch. I’ve got to know more about her. I’ve got to see if there’s anything between us like I think there could be. You can’t share a kiss like the one we had in the club without a real spark. I’ve kissed plenty of girls and it was never, ever like that. You know, in the movies, when the guy finally kisses the girl and fireworks go off in the sky? It was like that when Madison and I were tangled up in each other in the dark room, even though I didn’t know it was her. That sort of connection is undeniable, and I would be cheating myself not to pursue something with her.
I decide I’m going to talk to her, to see where she stands and what she thinks about that night. Maybe I’m crazy and just imagining all this, but the only other person who can tell me is Madison.
But what will people think if something does start between us? I’m mostly just worried about Axel and Clara. The concern, the teasing, the nosiness would be too much to bear. They might try to get me to stay away, like Axel just did.
I won’t tell them. I won’t tell anyone. I’ll just talk to Madison, have a normal, adult conversation, and go from there. Maybe if I see her again, kiss her again, the spark will be gone. Maybe I can get her out of my system.
Somehow, I doubt it.
9
Madison
I head back to the apartment Clara and I share after a long day of back-to-back classes. Fall break has ended and it’s back to the daily grind of school, work, sleep, repeat. I’m exhausted from staying late at the pro bono office last night, going through some paperwork for a case involving a drunk driver. Obviously, I felt a connection to the case and wanted to do everything possible to get justice for the woman who was injured. The drunk driver hit her car and pushed her off the road, and now she has a spinal injury so severe she can no longer work. The drunk driver sustained only minor injuries. Doesn’t it always seem to go that way? The person at fault never suffers as much as the victim. Well, I’ll do everything I can to make sure that woman gets every cent that’s due her, and the drunk driver gets more than a few measly hours of community service and a slap on the wrist.
I only have a few minutes to grab a snack and fill my omnipresent thermos with coffee at the apartment before I’ve got to head back to the office. I’m dead tired, but I’m used to it. And working on this case is more important than sleep.
My mind is still on the case when I turn the key in the apartment door and push my way in, tossing my backpack on the sofa as usual. I nearly have a heart attack when I see it land next to a man lounging in the living room. Clara has class at this time, and nobody is supposed to be here.
I gasp and reflexively hold my keys in between my knuckles in case I have to use them as a weapon. It’s also how I hold them when I walk alone at night. As a woman, you always have to be defensive. I am momentarily relieved to see that it’s only Maddox, not some threatening attacker. Then I wonder what the hell Maddox is doing here.
“Um… Clara’s not here,” I say, stating the obvious.
“I know,” replies Maddox smoothly, sliding off the couch and standing before me. “I’m here to see you.”
What?
“Huh?” I say, still marveling at the novelty of Maddox standing in my living room, his tall, muscular frame crowding the small space. It reminds me of that night in the club, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.
When Clara and I moved into this place, Axel and Maddox helped us carry our boxes and furniture in. We treated them to beer and pizza as a thank-you, and as far as I know, they haven’t been back to visit since. If Clara gets together with her foster brothers, it’s usually at the Millers’ house or out somewhere like a bar or a restaurant. So, of course, Maddox knows where I live, but it’s so strange to see him in this context.
My eyes dart around quickly, wondering what he thinks about our place. I pray that there’s nothing embarrassing lying around like dirty clothes or dishes. How long has Maddox been waiting in the apartment? Could he have been snooping around? How did he even get in here in the first place?