Also, sometimes it bothers me when people touch me and I think that would bother you.
I stop walking, looking down at the messages and reading them three times through, frowning. My mind snags on his second text and holds there. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Nate
I’m not expecting anything from you.
And I don’t really know what you mean by the touching thing, and that bothering me. I wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want me to.
Marcos
That’s not what I meant.
Listen, sometimes it REALLY bothers me when people touch me. It didn’t use to be so bad, but lately it’s been a lot worse and I don’t want you to be forced to deal with my shit.
Nate
Is that why you’re saying you aren’t in a good place to be in a relationship? Because 1) I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend, I’m just asking you to drink coffee with me, and 2) I’m not a fucking asshole! If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll just stare longingly at you over the table, instead.
Marcos
*insert much heavier sigh*
Nate
*insert puppy dog eyes and slow blinks*
Marcos
Stop it, I’m trying to have a serious conversation.
Nate
Okay, let’s meet up and we can talk in person.
There’s a noticeable pause in the messages after that, and I smile to myself as I tuck my phone away and drive home. I really don’t want him to talk himself out of…whatever this is. I don’t want to lose this; don’t want to lose something that already feels so good. If he can’t do a relationship, that’s fine. I can work with what we’ve already got going.
When I get back home, I wave off the calls from my roommates to join them and head straight up to my room. On the way by, I pound a fist against the wall to say a morse-code hello to Atlas, who yells back a welcomingfuck off, Nate. It’s so good to be home.
Pulling off my shirt and dropping it on the floor, I scrub a hand through my sweaty hair and check my phone. There’san entire string of texts from Marcos. Sitting on the edge of my desk, I read through them.
Marcos
No, I can’t meet up today. Or probably any day.
It’s not that I don’t want to, but shit is just really crazy right now, and I don’t want to bring you into all that.
And you might not even want to date or whatever, and that’s fine. I know you said you’d never been with a guy before, and I’m not going to give you a hard time if you decide to stick to women. Or maybe other guys. Whatever you want. I know it can be hard to figure yourself out.
I’m not doing a good job at explaining this.
I’m bad at talking.
Laughing, I pull up his contact and call him. It rings all the way through to voicemail, which makes me smile. I can picture him staring down at my name on the screen, pretending not to be available and waiting for it to stop ringing. When his voicemail picks up, I clear my throat.
“Hey, Marcos. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not here to make your life harder, so if you want me to leave you alone, I will. But if you want to get together and fool around, I’d like that. If you just need someone to listen while you talk, I can do that, too. Maybe we were just a fling, but we can be friends moving forward—that’s fine if that’s what you want. I’m not trying to push you into anything, and honestly, I’m not even sure what I want, so… Anyway, text me, or call me back, okay? Bye.”
Hanging up, I feel like I didn’t end that as strongly as I meant to. I think Marcos is trying to find a diplomatic and polite way to friendzone me, and I’m extremely unsure of how I feel about that. I’ve never before experienced such a sudden and strong desire for someone—a lightning strike of attraction. I have no idea what those feelings mean or what the hell I’m supposed to do with them. Should I try to hook up with a different guy? I’m certainly noticing men differently since Marcos and I hooked up in that darkened backyard, so maybe I need to lean into that a little bit.
