“Kind of thought you’d already be mad. This was definitely a no-strings thing. And here I am! All… stringy.” She shook her head, the shorter hairs framing her face tickling my collar. “I can put it away. I know you don’t want any of that. I just… can’t pretend like it’s not there at all.”
I held her tighter against me, my heart pounding. “Bridget—look—I’m not mad at you for it or for anything.”
“Not even for leaving my vibrator in the drawer?”
“Not even for that. It’s not even that I don’t… feel that same thing too,” I mumbled, voice getting small and awkward. She tensed, perked her head up to look at me, and I averted my gaze. “It’s just that I’m not looking to do that.”
“You mean you feel the same way,” she said quietly.
“Well. I suppose it would be… inadequate to describe my feelings as purely physical. I didn’t realize how much I was just… on the run, from one day to the next, hiding from myself, until I met you. Until I got to stop and stand still and face myself, along with someone who wanted to give me the space to do that.” I sighed hard, my insides a hot, tangled mess. “Of course I feel something about all of that. But I can’t… we’re not… I’m not ready for that.”
She stared at me for a long time before, quietly, she said, “Is it because of all the slutty internet pictures?”
“No, it’s not—it isn’t that.”
“I mean, a lot of people don’t really want to date a girl whose whole pussy is just floating around on the internet. Let alone someone who continues to whisper seductively to total strangers so they can come.”
“It’s not like you’re any less able to care for me because of that. Just…” I sat up, hugging myself, and Bridget slid off of me, sitting up next to me. I turned to the window, looking at the endless stars overhead. “I don’t know what I want,” I whispered. “I’m running out of time, aren’t I?”
“What?” She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not in college anymore. I can’t go wandering wide-eyed, floating from place to place, trying to find myself. I should decide what I want, settle into my lifestyle, or I’ll never have the time to build it. But I’m just… I’m scared I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to choose.”
She was quiet, studying me. I hugged my knees into my chest, buried my face against them.
“You’re… radiant, Bridget. You know what you want. You aren’t afraid of it. You live in it, own it, embrace it. I don’t know what I want to do with myself, where I want to live, what kinds of relationships I want to have in my life… and it’s too late for me to still be trying to figure that out.”
“I don’t know iftoo latereally exists when it comes to that. I mean… people keep figuring themselves out all their lives, right?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice thick, and I found my face hot, tears welling up in the corners. How ridiculous was I all of a sudden? Crying over a beautiful woman who cared about me and my future being open to whatever I wanted. I felt so small and so scared, like a child at a theme park whose parents had disappeared, surrounded by big beautiful things and terrified of them all. “I don’t think I’m… a good fit for you, Bridget. You know that, right?”
She sidled up next to me, slid an arm across my back, and I turned and buried myself against her, crying over nothing. She pulled me into a tight embrace, and she kissed the top of myhead, caressed my hair, stroked my back while I cried against her.
“I don’t want you to figure yourself out and show up perfectly,” she whispered. “I just like spending days that have you in them. I don’t know. Can’t that be enough?”
I took a long time to respond, crying myself out, until I was dry and shaky and a little hoarse, and I shook my head against her, pulling slowly back. “I think,” I started, and I swallowed past the dry throat and tried again. “I think it’s this… this place. Being back around my family. It… leaves me like this.”
“Mm.” Her face fell. “You miss Seattle, huh?”
Fuck, I didn’t. Seattle was no better. I’d just been better able to hide from it in Seattle. But maybe that was all there was—that there was just something fundamentally wrong baked into me, and the best I could do was hide from it. “Don’t know,” I said thinly. “Miss… not being here, I think.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was taut, and I tightened when I realized what I’d said.
“That’s not about you—”
“I know.”
“Bridget.” I pulled back, looking at her. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I miss being…” God, I didn’t know what.
“My feelings aren’t the important ones here. I’m just worried about you,” she said, her voice distant, closed off. I swallowed hard, shaking my head.
“I mean—”
“I’m sorry, I just need to go to the bathroom,” she said, standing up, and I moved without thinking—I’d always done too much thinking—I caught her by the arm, and I pulled her back into me, where she stumbled back and fell onto the bed, sending me tumbling onto my back with Bridget wrapped up in my arms, her hair flopping around my face as we both had the wind knocked out of us.
“Sorry,” I said. “That was more intense than I meant to—”
“Oh my god, be careful with doing that,” she said, her voice urgent.
