It takes her a while to answer the door, and for a moment, I wonder if she went to the library to study after all. Finally, she swings the door open, a surprised but not angry look on her face.
“Oh!” she says, her mouth making a perfect circle. “I-I’m sorry, I remember you said last night something about coming over, but I thought you were joking!”
“I was,” I say smoothly. “But then I decided I wasn’t.”
“What’s that?” she asks, eyeing the takeout bag.
“Sustenance for your study session,” I grin, holding up the bag. Relief floods through me when she smiles back.
“Then by all means, come on in!” she says, opening the door wider and making a sweeping gesture to invite me inside.
I step into her living room, where she has papers spread everywhere, her laptop open, and music tinkling out of a little speaker next to the television. She has lit a couple of candles, and the room smells like flowers. It’s very pleasant.
“Are you hungry now, or want to study first?” I ask, heading toward the kitchen.
“Starving!” she replies cheerfully, following me and pulling plates and glasses out of the cupboards.
We sit at her kitchen table and divide up the food, chatting about our days. It feels like the uncomfortable tension that was there before, from Madison being angry with me and from me being confused about my feelings for her, is gone. It’s been replaced by a cozy companionship, the gleeful mischief of a shared secret, and a magnetic attraction between us.
After we eat, our dinner full of glances loaded with meaning over the food, we return to the living room, where I help Madison organize her notes and quiz her. She has moved the coffee table from the middle of the room and spread everything out over the floor, so we sit on throw pillows on the ground while we work.
We study for a couple of hours like this before Madison stands up and says, “This can’t be very fun for you. Do you want a beer or a glass of wine?”
“Actually, it’s very interesting. Some of the material is pretty dry, but I’m learning a lot. I can see why you like this stuff. I’ll have a drink if you will, whatever you’re having.”
She heads back into the kitchen and I hear her open the refrigerator, then a cork pop. She returns holding two glasses of white wine.
“Cheers,” she says, clinking my glass just like last night. “Thanks for helping me study, it really makes a difference. Oh, and for dinner again too.”
“No problem,” I say, taking a deep gulp of the wine. It flows down my throat, cool and crisp, just what I need.
“So,” says Madison, curling up on the corner of the couch and taking a sip from her glass. I guess she’s ready to take a break from studying. “Are we ever going to talk about that night in the club?”
Surprised, I shift from my seat on the floor to lean against the bottom of the couch, my head inches away from her knees.
“I thought we already had?” I say, lifting my head and raising my eyebrows at her.
“No, I mean, like, talk about what you were doing there?”
“Well, what were you doing there?” I ask her.
“I asked you first,” she giggles.
Even a couple of days ago, I would have brushed off this question with a joke, or given some short, half-truthful answer. But after everything we’ve talked about, and the fact that I’m also dying to know what Madison was doing in that sex club, there’s no reason for me to lie.
“Honestly?” I sigh, sorting through my thoughts. “Axel dragged Declan and me there. But we’d been there before,” I reveal.
“Oh, really?” Madison asks, and I can hear the surprise in her voice, but not a hint of judgment.
“Yeah, the three of us went together one time before that. I was having a hard time after my breakup with Jasmine… Did you know I had a girlfriend for about a year?”
“I think Clara mentioned you were seeing somebody and then that you were going through a breakup, but I don’t know a lot about it. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she says.
“Does it bother you?” I ask. “I mean, hearing about Jasmine?”
“Do you want it to bother me?” she responds flirtatiously. “I’m kidding. No, I want to know more about you, and I want to hear it from you, not secondhand from Clara. So, what was Jasmine like?”
I take another drink, then tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling while I answer. “She was…smart. Driven, like you. Full of energy, hardworking, athletic. Very type A, you know…” I trail off. “But she was also kind of… I don’t know how to say it. Dissatisfied, maybe? And bossy? Like, nothing was ever good enough for her. She complained constantly, and nothing I ever did was right.”
“How do you mean?”
“Like, say, for her birthday, I planned a weekend trip to a bed and breakfast in the woods. I worked really hard to make it special. I spent hours researching where would be a good place to go that time of year, what there was for us to do in the area, and I booked activities I thought she would like, like wine tasting and horseback riding. But the whole weekend, she just complained about how she was missing her workout routine, how I had thrown off her schedule, that she hates surprises, how she’d rather have gone to the beach… Everything was just wrong.”
“That’s annoying,” sympathizes Madison.
“And it wasn’t just the one trip, or any one thing,” I continue. “It was everything, all the time. Like, when Axel, Declan, and I scored a huge client, or I achieved anything at work, she was never just happy for me. It was always, okay, so what’s next?”
Madison nodded along.
“It was constant criticism, fault finding, blaming, and judging.”
“Well, there must have been something you liked about her. I mean, you said you were together for a year,” Madison says.
“You’re right. I guess she pushed me to be better, to be more. She inspired me. We had a lot of fun together and went on adventures all the time, which she loved, as long as she was the one to plan them and micromanage everything,” I laugh. “When we were together, I felt like I was a better person. At least, in the beginning. You can only be told you’re not good enough for so long until you start to believe it.”
“I’m so sorry,” says Madison softly. “So, what happened? How did you end it?”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “She dumped me. Said I wasn’t making her happy anymore.”
“That sucks,” breathes Madison, taking another drink.
“Yeah, it did,” I say, looking up at her. “But after we broke up, I started to see that we weren’t good for each other. She made me feel like shit, even though I didn’t realize it while we were together. And I was never going to be who or what she wanted. I don’t know if anything could be enough for her, honestly, but I’m getting to a place where I hope she finds it and is happy.”
“Sounds like you’re doing a lot better now,” Madison observes.
“Well, I had a little help,” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She whacks me in the head with a throw pillow, nearly making me spill the wine on her carpet. “I’m just kidding!” I laugh. “Anyway, the point is, Axel dragged me to that club a couple of times to try to help me get over Jasmine. And I have to admit, I was curious.”