THE big step?
Yep. Pack a bag.
Should I bring a parka or a bathing suit?
Parka, bathing suit, snorkel, power drill
(wide-eyed emoji)
Kidding. Just you, that smile and those freckles
Alright, pick me up at 3:30 and we can hang
on the way over
Can’t wait. See you then angel
I really had missed him. I’d hung out with Kitty and Jessie a lot and been busy with work, but their attention wasn’t the same friend attention as what Nick gave. And I’m not just talking in the orgasm sense. Nick had this way of making me feel like I was number one, always.
A dangerous feeling.
Part of me worried that during our time apart, he’d metsomeone. It was inevitable, a condition of our arrangement. I was preparing him for the right person, should the right person for him be a woman. In some ways, it would be a relief. I wouldn’t have to worry about work finding out if we ended things.
Then would come the question of what kind of partner I was actually looking for.
But as every little bit of contact with him lit up my whole world, I knew the answer to that question.
It wasn’t an answer I was allowed to have.
* * *
Nick arrived at my door in a hoodie and a beanie, plus some Vans.
“You look very Venice,” I said, a volleyball tucked under my arm.
“You look very not ready for what we’re about to do,” he said, pointing to my tall-heeled boots. “Get on some flat sneakers.”
“I’m going to take them off to play volleyball,” I protested. They worked so well with my outfit. I wanted to be cute for our date.
“It’s not for the volleyball.”
“Are you threatened by my height in these?” I teased, my eyes just slightly lower than his in my heels. I gestured him inside and closed the door.
“Absolutely not, angel. I love how tall you are.”
“I do kinda like that I can wear heels with you and I’m not taller than you,” I said, winding up for a rant. “Which is a whole patriarchy thing anyway, but I’ve spent my whole life being ‘too tall for a woman’ while every other female in my life not on a volleyball team is little and petite. I was always the big one in my relationships with women. They wore ‘little’ like it was a personality trait. But it would be unseemly for me to be ‘big’ as a personality trait.”
Nick’s hands met my waist as I got to my coat closet. He turned me to face him, his eyes blazing into mine. “Hey. You are not tootall. You are perfect. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.”
I smirked. “Tell society that, Ober.”
“Give me society’s number. I’ll call them right now,” he joked before laying a light kiss on me. My lashes fluttered closed, and I both loved and hated how girly he made me feel. He could change everything with one little phrase. One touch.
“I like how you make me feel little,” I whispered, afraid to admit it because it sounded silly. But Nick got me.
“You are little to me,” he grinned, his breath warm against my face before he gave me another peck. “Little and tall and strong and perfect.”
I breathed him in, enjoying his masculine scent that was sporty and his skin and somehow, the sweet, humble confidence he displayed all in one. If there were one expression to capture how I felt being around him, it’d be pouty lips and drawn brows because he was so wonderful, it was upsetting.
