Room For One More

Chapter 44

Natalie heard him moving as she came out of her room to go to the kitchen. The soft thud of a cabinet, the pull of the fridge door opening, and then closing again. She took a second in the hallway, steadying her breath. Her heart hadn't slowed all morning since she opened her eyes and remembered what she'd seen.

Or what she'ddone, fingers between her thighs, biting her wrist to keep quiet, watching him from just a few feet away.

And then bolting, like a thief in the night.

She stepped into the kitchen with her breath held tighter than she realized. She came out earlier than normal hoping to avoid him, but he must have had the same idea, and now it was too late, feeling committed. Aiden was already at the counter, hunched slightly over a bowl of cereal, wearing the same drawstring shorts he always did in the morning, with no shirt.

Really? Not even a shirt? Couldn't he have at least worn that today?she thought to herself.

He looked up the moment she entered.

"Hey," he said.

"Morning." She didn't look at him, just gave a faint nod.

Her voice sounded thin. She moved toward the coffee machine, aiming for something normal from her typical routine. She slid a pod into the slot, hit the button, and stepped back, waiting.

The machine blinked once. Then started its slow, stuttering cycle. She stared at the trickle of dark liquid hitting the mug, her back to him. It felt like the longest brew of her life.

Her arms folded across her stomach. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as the machine sputtered and hissed behind her. She could hear him eating, every clink of his spoon, every crunch as he bit down, but her own thoughts were louder.

She kept going back to the slip of her foot last night. Her heel catching on the floor as she turned to leave, right after she saw him finish all over himself. Just a half-step too quick, and too careless. The squeak of her bare foot skidding on the floor was just enough to echo in the stillness of the living room.

Her stomach twisted at the memory of it.

He had to have heard that. Please don't let him have heard that. Please don't let him know I was standing there, watching him cum all over himself like that.

She bit the inside of her cheek, hard. She hadn't made any other sounds, at least she didn't think she had. But that slip had given her away. It had to.

He wasn't saying anything about it, and neither was she.

She just needed this cup to fill so she could run and hide behind her bedroom door. Maybe pretend the whole thing didn't happen, even though her body rememberedexactlyhow it had felt.

She kept still, blinking at the half-filled cup, willing it to hurry up as though staring hard enough would make the difference.

Behind her, Aiden spooned another bite of cereal into his mouth. He expected her to look... off, but he didn't expect her to avoid him completely. He'd hoped to have a little more time before facing her though too.

He couldn't stop replaying last night in his own head. The fact that he'd stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch, and that he'd chosen to relieve himself while sitting there. And then the moment rightafter...

He'd heard something. A squeak of skin on the vinyl, faux-wood floor in the hallway, followed by a door closing. It wasn't loud, but too distinct to be anything else.

Why the fuck didn't he just go to his room instead of sitting there? Ithadto be her that he heard. Clearly, she had, based on how she was acting.

How much did she see? Did she watch, trapped by the shock of what she was seeing? Or maybe she came out, barely saw anything and turned so quickly she slipped... Was she disgusted? Embarrassed for him? Angry?

I'm a damned idiot,he chastised himself.

"Sleep okay?" he asked, trying for casual, as if he hadn't spent all morning worrying that he'd completely wrecked the good thing he had going here.

"Yeah," she said, with her voice cracking in that awkwardly higher pitch than normal. "You?"

"Fine. Little cold." His fingers tightened around the spoon. "You know how it gets in here sometimes."

She gave a small nod, keeping her eyes fixed on the stream of coffee. He watched the curve of her back, and the tension in her shoulders. She looked like she was barely breathing. It wasn't like her to avoid him like this.

The machine finally sputtered out the last of the coffee. Natalie reached for the mug, her hand steady even though everything inside her felt wrecked. She didn't add sugar, or even cream. Just wrapped her fingers around the warmth and blurted the first thing that came to her mind.

"I'm gonna shower," she said without turning.

"Cool."

He winced at the word the second it left his mouth.Cool.Like they were still in high school, and he hadn't moaned her name in his head while jerking off less than eight hours earlier.

Natalie turned and left without looking back, her coffee held in both hands as she scurried away. The hallway swallowed her up, one soft footstep at a time.

Aiden stared down at his cereal. He hadn't taken a bite in what felt like minutes. He pushed the bowl away and slumped forward, elbows on the counter, head in his hands.

What the hell just happened?

Chapter 45

The rest of Sunday passed at a crawl. Natalie kept herself busy with laundry, dishes, anything she could find to keep her busy, choosing to skip her yoga for the morning. She stripped her bed, remade it, washed the old sheets, then stripped it again because she didn't like the way the fitted sheet clung at the corner. She caught herself replaying last night in her head every time the silence got too deep. Every time she heard him move about. Every time she passed the couch.

She didn't see much of Aiden, since he mostly stayed in his room, as well. She heard the occasional shuffle, the faint hum of his music through the door. Once, in the afternoon, they crossed paths in the hallway. She stepped aside; he mumbled a thanks. And neither of them looked up.

She tried not to wonder how often he touched himself. Or how often it was about her...

Matt texted sometime around three.

Matt:Hope your weekend's going alright. Let me know if you want to grab a drink later or something.

She saw the message, read it, and went back to busy work, considering his offer.

A few minutes later, she decided to reply.

Natalie:Been a long day. Maybe another night?

He simply liked the message, choosing not to push.

Later, after dinner, she opened their thread again, scrolled back, and read some of the older messages from earlier in the week, where the teasing had started to pick up. She almost smiled at one of his dumb GIF replies. Almost. But it didn't feel the same anymore.

She tossed her phone on the couch and wandered into the kitchen, stopping herself just short of grabbing wine. She didn't need to add drunk guilt to whatever this was already becoming. Wine contributed to last night, which didn't bode well for her self-control.

Instead, she stood at the island, staring at the couch. The same spot where Aiden had leaned back the night before, breathing heavy, his hips bucking under his own hand. Her stomach clenched.

She turned off the light and went to bed early, but sleep didn't come easily. Every nerve was too alert, and her thoughts too tangled. And the apartment, felt too quiet.

Chapter 46

Aiden didn't do much on Sunday, either. At least nothing he'd be proud of. He stayed in his room most of the day, clicking through YouTube until the autoplay landed on something he didn't recognize from his head zoning out, or gaming half-heartedly. Eventually, the controller slipped to the floor, and he didn't bother picking it up.

He was trying not to think about the night before and how much she'd heard him, or seen. He kept replaying the moment in his head: that faint shift, the soft squeak of her foot against the vinyl, the sound of her door. The same thoughts he had at breakfast.

If she had seen him, if she'd stood there, even for a second, watching him jerk off on the couch, why hadn't she said anything? Why hadn't she looked at him that morning? Scolded him? Yelled at him? Smiled with that certain look she can get... He immediately pushed the last thought out of his head. Shit was bad enough; he didn't need to turn last night into more of a reason for her to be pissed at him.

She'd stood at the coffee machine with her back to him the whole time, not even a glance his way. It had felt like a deliberate sign to him. He couldn't tell if it was shame, embarrassment, or something worse. Maybe she was disgusted. Maybe she was trying to pretend it didn't happen.

His gut twisted. Technically, he hadn't done anything wrong other than not choosing to go to his room, but she wasn't supposed to be up, she went to bed. He didn't know she was there. It wasn't like he'd been flaunting it, but still, knowing she might've seen everything left him shaken in a way he didn't know how to process.

He thought about messaging one of his friends or heading out to kill a few hours, but the idea of putting on real clothes and acting like everything was fine felt exhausting. Instead, he stayed in. Door closed, with his video games, laptop and phone, listening to music in an effort to drown out his own thoughts.

He followed her movements through the apartment without meaning to. Footsteps crossing the hall, dishes clinking in the kitchen, her voice drifting from the other room while she talked on the phone. And even though he couldn't make out the words, he kept listening, hoping to hear something in her tone that would tell him how she felt - angry, embarrassed, anything. But there was nothing. Just silence when she hung up, and the dread he felt pressing in harder than before.

Every so often, he found himself glancing toward the hallway, half-hoping she might walk past and say something. Maybe a joke, maybe a teasing jab, anything to cut through the silent treatment. But she never did.

By the time the apartment finally went quiet that night, his body was tight with frustration. He didn't touch himself again. He wanted to, needed to even, but it felt like that was what had started all of this in the first place, and that doing it again might make everything worse.

What if she heard? What if she didn't leave this time...? Yeah, great, then he could really impress her with what a perv he was by giving her a live encore. Real smooth. Or maybe, just once, he could keep it in his pants and stop acting like a fucking idiot.

Chapter 47

Natalie stepped into the office building just before nine, chewing the last bite of a protein bar as she hit the elevator button. The building was already buzzing with people. Her nerves hadn't fully calmed and she felt like she was aware of every heel striking on tile, fingers tapping against phones, voices half-lowered in Monday morning recovery.

She gave a polite smile to a guy from accounting she only knew by face, then slipped into the elevator and tapped her floor. Her reflection in the panel was fine, clean blouse, tucked-in skirt, hair styled, but she looked tired. Hollow in the eyes.

The doors opened on the fourth floor. The "Creative Wing" as the company called it. Ugh... it felt so cliché today for some reason.

The advertising team had an open-concept space of modern, half-glass walls, mid-century chairs someone from design had probably fought way too hard to get approved, for the cost based on their looks, versus the comfort you felt sitting in them. Natalie nodded at a few coworkers as she passed their desks, dropped her bag inside one of the drawers of her own, and sank into the chair with the feeling her bones didn't want to hold her up anymore.

She pulled up her inbox.

Twelve unread emails. Three marked urgent. One flagged from her manager, Devon, with the subject line:Q4 Push - Copy Needs Review Today.

Natalie sighed and clicked it open.

She liked the work of branding concepts, tone shifts, and campaign launches, but there was always pressure. The urgency from every person that reached out to marketing that their request was more urgent than the last person, who also needed theirs put on the top of the virtual pile. Added on top of that, there was always a sense that the next opening for a promotion might show up without warning, and if she wasn't on her game, someone else would slide into it.

She'd been told more than once she was "next in line" for a senior strategist role, but that had been said last November, too. And again, in February.

The screen blurred a little as her thoughts drifted. She couldn't get her mind to stay focused on her emails, and certainly not to the pitch deck she was supposed to be reviewing.

Aiden... on her couch with his hand in motion and the sounds of squelching emphasizing the grunts coming from him. It seemed like it was all she could think of now.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. She grabbed her phone instead and checked her messages. Nothing new from Matt. She scrolled to his name anyway and typed something out.

Natalie:Hey. I think I could use that drink after all. You around tonight?

His reply came within minutes.

Matt:Absolutely. You want to meet at that Italian place near Midtown?

She stared at the message for a moment, considering her response. She knew the chain restaurant he was thinking of. The place was fine, she had nothing against it, usually, but it wasn't what she had in mind for tonight. A little too much lighting, a little too much noise, with too many people for what she wanted tonight.

Natalie:How about your place instead?

A pause. Then-

Matt:Yeah. Sure. I can cook a little. Did you have anything in mind?

Natalie:Up to you. Cook, pick something up. Doesn't even matter.

Matt:What time were you thinking?

Natalie:Does 7 work for you?

Matt:Alright. Come hungry then.

Her last text back to him was a single winking emoji.

She let the screen dim before setting the phone face-down on her desk. For her, tonight wasn't about romance, or conversation. She didn't even want to linger. She just needed to be touched. Needed release from someone's hands other than her own.

Even if it wasn't coming from the person she hadn't stopped thinking about since Saturday night.

After setting her date for the evening, she felt more focused. Natalie stopped checking the clock, stopped checking for texts she wasn't expecting, stopped wondering if Aiden would be in the kitchen when she got home, waiting for her to make dinner.

She had a plan now. Something to lean into. And while it wasn't perfect, or who she wanted, it would be enough. Something to help open the relief valve.

She pulled her hair into a loose bun as she became all business. Clicking into the Q4 strategy doc, she began hammering out copy changes one paragraph at a time. Stronger transitions. Tighter calls to action. Sharper messaging. Everything she knew how to do, now moving faster than things had all morning.

Her company's message app pinged twice, yet she ignored it. The intern team dropped something off at her desk and she nodded, but didn't look up. When she finally paused to sip from her water bottle, her cursor blinked beside the last note from Devon, now fully revised.

She exhaled, leaned back, and let a slow grin edge in at the corner of her mouth. For the first time in two days, her body didn't feel like it was stuck in limbo. She wasn't craving answers. She wasn't overthinking. She'd had something coming, other than going home to what was no longer her space alone, occupied by the current focus of her obsession. Something that broke the thought cycle and let her concentrate on other things.

Chapter 48

The apartment was quiet when she walked in. The day had dragged, but at least it ended up being productive, even though there were meetings that could've been emails. Campaign revisions no one could agree on. Someone from upstairs had taken the last of the cold brew from the office fridge and didn't refill the carafe, which somehow felt like a personal attack by the time three o'clock rolled around.

But now she was home, with just under an hour to pull herself together. She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her heels, and headed straight for the bedroom. Not even pausing to see if Aiden was home.

The bedroom door shut quickly behind her, as she turned on the ceiling fan light, casting everything in a bath of light. She peeled off her blouse and unzipped her skirt, tossing both over the arm of a chair near her closet. Her bra followed, then her panties. Grabbing her robe from the foot of her bed where she'd left it this morning, she moved to the bathroom without a glance down the hallway.

Aiden heard her from his room as she came in the front door, the sharp clack of heels on the floor before taking them off. He paused his game, listening for the occasional greeting of her coming home. Sometimes she'd call out a quick "hey" or mutter something about traffic. But this time, he could hear her footsteps moving straight down the hall without slowing, and the door to her bedroom shutting a moment later.

He stayed in his room for a few more minutes, debating whether to head out to the living room or give her space. Eventually, he tucked his phone into his pocket and wandered out. The light outside was getting darker earlier now, with the sun already low on the horizon. He dropped onto the couch and unlocked his phone again, half-heartedly scrolling through the usual rotation of social feeds, headlines, a few half-watched videos that never seemed to keep his attention lately.

He opened a game, stared at it for less than a minute, then closed it again. His attention kept drifting toward the hallway. Her door stayed shut, but his ears stayed tuned for any sound. He didn't know why. Maybe he thought she'd pass through the living room, or at least poke her head in with some half-smile that said everything was completely normal.

Then he heard her bedroom door open quickly. Bare feet tromping toward the bathroom. He turned to look, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but the bathroom door had already shut with enough force to signify she was either mad at him, or in a hurry.

He blinked and sat back into the couch, phone loose in his hand. She hadn't said a word, or even looked in his direction.

The shower was a quick neck down only by necessity, but she let the water run hot and steady, sluicing away the weight of the day. Abandoning her typical scrubber in haste, she started at her shoulders, working the soap into her skin with both hands, gliding down her arms in long motions. The warmth brought awareness to the constant buzz running through her, that seemed ever-present lately.

Her hands moved across her chest next, circling over her breasts. She didn't intend to linger, but the contact made her breath suddenly coming out in more of a sigh. They were always sensitive, especially under her own experienced touch, and tonight was no different. Her thumbs grazed over her nipples, in a slow and unintentional action at first, but the response came before she could pull back. A faint tug in her belly reminded her how keyed up her body felt.

She made herself move on, turning to soap her back, while rinsing her front at the same time, reaching over one shoulder and then the other. Her muscles were tight between her shoulder blades, and she rolled them once, exhaling as the steam sank into the tension. Her hands moved down next, crossing along her ribs, her waist, and over her hips, then to her legs. Steadying herself against the wall, she worked the lather along her thighs, her calves, behind her knees.