Here they were, curled up on his couch, the view of Central Park and its lush green trees greeting them through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and they were discussing their phones, for Christ’s sake. But they also weren’t discussing their phones. They were talking about something that seemed to matter.

“I listened to classical music a lot when I was stationed overseas.”

“You did?” she asked, quirking her eyebrows in curiosity. “Why?”

“It reminded me of home. It reminded me of the world beyond the battle. Even if I wasn’t one of the guys on the front lines, I was studying them. Helping our boys to understand them, to navigate what was going on.”

“What were you working on? Or is that classified or something?”

“We provided the intelligence support for some of the operations in Afghanistan and Iraq.”

“I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said, shaking her head, perhaps in some kind of admiration. “Playing a role in something so big.”

“It was our job to make sure they had the right information to act on. Sometimes, when I was studying the reports coming in, I would listen to Ravel or Brahms or Mozart. It helped me sort it out. I found it strangely calming.”

“I can picture that,” she said, and this time she reached out, running her hand down his arm. “I can see how that would help.”

He liked that they both had reasons for their ringtones that were deeper than just randomness of the universe. That it was about music, and the way music mattered to them both. It mattered differently, but it was equally important. A cigar wasn’t always a cigar.

“Stay the night,” he said, trying again with her. He wanted more of her. He liked himself better when she was near.

She shook her head.

“Please. I like the way you feel next to me, even just like this.”

“No. I need to be in my own bed.”

“But you look so good on mine.”

“I feel good in it. But I need to go home.”

“First things first,” he said, then dropped his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, the way she liked, the way that made her wriggle underneath him in seconds, and wrap her legs around his waist. The way that turned her on in a heartbeat. Made her wet and hot and needy for him. He’d learned her body quickly, studied her cues, and knew how to turn her on in record time. It was as if he alone possessed the secret code to unlock her desire.

He pulled off her panties, rolled on a condom and entered her. Within seconds she was moaning, her head back, her arms wrapped tight around him, her legs gripping him. It was a quick fuck, a goodbye-and-see-you-tomorrow one. It was a promise that this wasn’t the last time, that there would be many more.

And that they both just needed one more moment of connection before she left without staying the night.