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Tasha tried the lamp next to the bed.
Nope, nothing. As expected.
She couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter.
The situation was so ridiculous. She was sitting in bed with her high school boyfriend, whom she’d hardly seen in fifteen years, as a snowstorm raged outside. There was no heat, and now, no power.
Across the bed, Greg’s laughter rumbled, causing a pleasant vibration in her chest.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine, though I guess the space heater won’t do much for us now.”
“Do you want one of the sleeping bags or the extra blanket?”
“Actually, yeah. The extra blanket would be good.”
The mattress shifted as Greg got up. Soon, it dipped again as he climbed back in bed, and in the dark, she was acutely aware of his nearness.
For some reason, it felt like the sleepovers she’d gone to in elementary school. The lights were out, and they could giggle and talk about their secrets.
He placed the blanket over her, and she pulled it up to her neck.
“So, you haven’t dated in a while,” she said, returning to their conversation. “Like I told you, I’m surprised you’re not married. You’re the sort of man that a woman would settle down with—stable, kind, good job—versus the kind of man she’d have a hot fling with when she’s young.”
“You dated me when we were young.”
Oh. She realized how it had sounded. “Not that we didn’t have fun together. Not that the sex wasn’t good. You’re just husband material. I mean it as a compliment.”
“I know.”
She could hear the smile in his voice.
“So tell me.” She was suddenly quite curious. “How many relationships have you had since we broke up?”
“Three. All lasted more than a year.”
That sounded like Greg. He wasn’t the kind of guy who’d bounce from one woman to another, and he wasn’t scared of commitment.
“None of them were quite right, though,” he said. “They didn’t last as long as we did. And I’m terrible at meeting women. That involves, you know, socializing.” He made a sound of displeasure. “I know that, since I’d like a relationship, I should put myself out there, but I’m not great at it. And online dating...”
“What’s wrong with it? That way, you don’t actually have to speak to someone right away. Just swipe right and send a message.”
“I feel like I don’t understand the social conventions. I tried, but very few women contacted me or replied to my messages, the rare times I sent them. Perhaps my profiles could have used some work.”
“Ooh, I could help you with that!”
“Get in line,” he said. “Nick, Zach, Amber, and Ah Ma have already offered their assistance.”
“I’m not sure you should be taking online dating advice from your grandma.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“How old are your grandparents? My mom sees them about town on occasion.”
“Eighty-eight and eighty-nine.”
She looked away for a moment, though she couldn’t see him in the dark anyway. Her grandparents would be over ninety if they were still alive. She missed them.
Greg’s hand settled on her shoulder, just for a second, before he withdrew. “I listed my interests as CBC Radio, model trains, birdwatching, stamp-collecting, and documentaries.”
She couldn’t suppress a fond smile. It was so Greg.
“You should have added ‘baking.’ That would interest some women.” He’d baked for her a bunch of times. Chocolate chip cookies and other things. All delicious.
“I’ll keep it under consideration. But online dating made me nervous and uncomfortable, so I let myself take a break. And most women our age seem to be in a relationship.”
Except her.
“Someday, though,” he said, “I’ll try again.”
She could hear the yearning in his voice. When they were younger, he’d talked of getting married and having a small family. She knew it was still what he wanted; Greg wasn’t someone who changed his mind about such things.
He wouldn’t want four children like his parents had, but he’d want one or two. They’d drive him crazy and mess up his ordered life, something she knew he secretly enjoyed.
There was a pang in her heart. She still cared for him, and she wanted him to have everything he desired.
She pictured them in the kitchen together, making cookies for their two small children, then shook her head.
He was part of her past, not her future.
When she got sad about her dating life, she reminded herself that tomorrow was another day, and sure, her biological clock was ticking, but she still had a little time. That was how she kept her spirits up, kept putting herself out there again and again.
Always forward, never back.
Why, there was already a nice man who liked her.
“Perhaps,” Greg mused, “the problem is that I never ask women to come upstairs and see my model trains.”
“Like asking a lady to come upstairs and see your etchings.”
“Precisely. Or ‘Netflix and chill.’”
She laughed, imagining him asking a woman, very seriously, to watch Netflix and chill.
“So, model trains, eh?” she said, finding that rather adorable for some reason. “You spend your free time listening to CBC, painting little trees and figurines, and watching your little train chugging through your model mountain?”
“How did you know there was a mountain?”
“Oh, I just do.”
Because she still knew him.
Sure, he had a proper job now and he’d gotten some new hobbies, but fundamentally, he was the same.
If he asked her to come up to see his model train, she’d probably say yes, and he’d undress her with extreme care...and afterward, he really would show her the model train.
“What about you?” he asked. “I thought you’d be married by now, too.”
“Why did you think that?”
He made some inarticulate noises, then said, “You’re smart and beautiful. Then and now.” He spoke as though it was an indisputable fact.
She hesitated. “I wish it had happened, but it didn’t. Sometimes, I feel like it’s greedy to want a career and a family—”
“Nobody tells men that they can’t have it all, and we get praised when we take our own kids to the park. You can want it all, too.”
“I want what my parents have.”
“Me, too.” He paused. “This guy you were texting—did you meet him online?”
“Yeah. He was the first guy who hadn’t opened with a dick pic in a depressingly long time. His name is Crispin.”
Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Greg that. It felt weird.
Crispin was an outgoing man who worked in sales. They’d had fun on their dates, and the kissing had been good, but they hadn’t gone any further. She’d texted him earlier, after Greg had given her hot chocolate and a Coffee Crisp, to remind herself that she had other options. Maybe Crispin could be the one, or...
“Maybe I have unrealistic expectations when it comes to dating,” she said.
“Expecting men not to send you unsolicited dick pics is very reasonable.”
It was weird to hear “dick pic” in Greg’s sensible voice.
“It’s much more than that. I want to just know.”
“I understand.”
When he was on the phone with his family, he’d said his specialty was listening—in response to what, she wasn’t quite sure.
But, yeah, he was a good listener. You always felt like he was giving you his undivided attention, seriously considering whatever you said, no matter how trivial or silly. And while he liked when things made sense logically, he accepted that not everything worked that way.
He’d told her once that half the reason he loved her was because she was pretty and smart and fun...and many other adjectives. The other half, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain. It simply was.
Not knowing what to say now, she asked, “Do you really birdwatch?”
He didn’t question the change in topic. “Yeah.”
“I don’t think I’d have the patience.”
“That’s fair.”
They were quiet for a moment in the darkness of their cold hotel room, and then there was a very loud squeak next door, followed by more squeaks in a slow, steady rhythm.
* * *
The people in the next room were having sex. Greg was certain of it.
And here, on the other side of the wall, he and Tasha were having a conversation in bed in the dark, and it couldn’t help feeling intimate.
He couldn’t deny it: he wanted to make the bed springs squeak with Tasha, too. Not just because it had been a long time since he’d had sex, but because it was her.
The bed springs next door continued to squeak. Tasha laughed, and Greg joined her.
“Why did we break up?” he asked suddenly.
“We were drifting apart. It was hard to maintain a relationship when we went to different schools.”
He knew that, but he’d wanted to hear her answer. “What if I’d gone to U of T with you?”
“I couldn’t have asked you to do that. You wanted the co-op program, and you wanted systems engineering.”
“And I couldn’t have asked you to give up what you wanted, either. But what if—”
“Greg,” she said. “Don’t.”
“Maybe we should have tried harder.”
But they’d been in university, and that had been their priority. Focusing on school had seemed like the right thing to do.
And he’d felt like he was a yoke around her neck, preventing her from fully enjoying the university experience. The high school boyfriend who’d outstayed his welcome, even if they still cared for each other. She should be meeting other guys, having lots of new experiences, not spending her limited free time talking to him on MSN Messenger. In the end, he’d been the one to suggest breaking up, but it had been mutual. They’d both agreed it wasn’t working.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have turned out any differently if they’d gone to the same university.
Squeak, squeak, squeak.
“Oh, Ethel,” said a muffled male voice.
Tasha laughed. “Ethel isn’t a name you hear much anymore, is it?”
“It was my great-grandmother’s name,” Greg said.
“Can you imagine giving a little girl that name?”
“Many old names have become popular again.”
“Yeah, but not ‘Ethel.’ Or ‘Bertha.’”
“This is true.”
“Herbert!” said a not-so-muffled female voice from the other side of the wall.
So the people next door were Ethel and Herbert. Charming.
“How old do you think they are?” Tasha asked.
“I bet they’re two sixteen-year-olds who snuck off during the snowstorm.”
“Ethel and Herbert, the coolest kids in school.”
“No, with names like those, they’re probably in their eighties. Perhaps they were heading out to visit their adult children for the holidays, and they stopped when the weather took a turn for the worse and decided to make the best of the power outage.”
“I hope I’m still having sex when I’m eighty-five.”
“Same here,” he said. “I just hope I’m not so loud about it.”
“I don’t think there’s much danger of that. You were never loud.”
For half a minute, all he could hear was the squeak of the bed springs and his own breathing.
And then another, “Oh, Herbert!”
Greg felt a strange fondness for this older couple having sex in a dark motel room, though he wished they’d do it a little more quietly.
He also couldn’t help wishing that he and Tasha hadn’t drifted apart. Maybe they could be stuck in this motel as a married couple, with a small child sleeping between them.
He shouldn’t think about it, but he did.
What if...
“Ethel!”
“Oh, Herbie!”
The squeaking got even louder, and Greg was more uncomfortable than amused, though he was also thinking about doing exactly the same thing with Tasha.
What would it be like to sleep with her now? Would it be as good as he remembered?
Was his memory faulty?
“Yes, just like that. Herbieeeee.”
This was followed by a few bangs.
Dear God.
On the other side of the bed, Tasha chuckled, low and husky. Goddammit, he wanted her.
“I hope nobody busts their hip,” she said.
“I hope they stop this infernal racket soon,” he muttered.
She shifted toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. “You sound like an old man.” But she said it with affection, and he didn’t mind at all.
Tentatively, he reached out and ran his hand over the curve of her hip.
In response, she cupped his jaw with her hand. He could feel her breath on his cheek.
And then he kissed her on the lips. Just once.
Tasha wasn’t as gentle. She yanked him on top of her, and when he pressed his lips to hers again, she thrust her tongue into his mouth.
Greg’s body came alive in a way it hadn’t for years. He was aware of every place they were touching. Her legs between his. Her breasts against his chest. Of course, there were a couple layers of sweater between them, but still.
She arched against him, pressing against him there.
He growled as his cock hardened, then shifted his lips away from hers and kissed his way down to where her jaw met her neck—she’d always been particularly sensitive in that spot.
And she still was.
“Greg,” she whispered, much more quietly than Ethel next door.
He loved hearing her say his name when she was underneath him.
He shifted his mouth back to Tasha’s and tasted a hint of Coffee Crisp, something he’d tasted on her lips before.
“Ethel!”
“Herbieee!”
This was followed by more banging and squeaking.
Greg could feel Tasha’s smile against his lips. He smiled back before cupping her ass and bringing her more firmly against him as he continued to kiss her.
It had been many, many years, but it still felt right.
Familiar, though not quite the same.
Tasha started grinding her hips against his, and he slipped his hand under her sweater and shirt, smooth skin meeting his fingertips.
He shuddered. He wanted more. He wanted—
Suddenly, they were bathed in light. What on earth was going on?
Oh, right. The power had been restored.
Greg looked down at Tasha, her braids fanned out on the pillow, her sweater pushed up, one hand gripping his shoulder.
He was making out with his ex-girlfriend.
And he’d known what he was doing, but it felt like he hadn’t really known until now.
Tasha looked even more stunned. When he rolled off her, she shifted away from him. He missed her body heat, and not just because it was cold in the room.
“Ethel!”
“Herbie!”
A couple more bangs and it seemed to be over.
Strange that a presumably-elderly couple having sex next door during a power outage had encouraged Greg to kiss his ex. The world worked in odd ways.
He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though.
Tasha, however, still looked stunned.
“Are you okay?” he asked, not letting himself reach for her.
“Me? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just worried about Ethel’s hip. Anyway, I’m going to head to the washroom to wrap up my hair and brush my teeth, and maybe we can go to sleep soon?”
“Sure. Of course. Yeah.”
Why was he sounding like a loon?
Tasha padded across the room, and Greg lay back in the bed, feeling like his world had been knocked slightly off orbit.
He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to lose himself in her.
But he didn’t think she wanted the same thing.