I kiss him again, to offer another reminder of this chemistry between us, the chemistry that feels so much more special since we fucked. As I pull away, he looks into myeyes.
“That’s not complicated,” Isay.
“No,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s not complicated atall.”
He wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips firmly against my own before pushing me back against the doorframe. I relax and enjoy the diffusion of that barrier betweenus.
It’s not completely gone, but at least I know that whatever was standing in Eric’s way has let up. My worry and fear that he would shut me out entirely have been replaced with the ease of knowing we can still share this thing that feels soimportant.
And yet I feel like a bastard because despite saying we don’t have to talk about whatever his issue is, now I’m wildly curious. Now I just want to get inside his head to know more about this obstacle. Why he hurts, who he reallyis.
Who hurt you,Eric?
I don’t know why I’m so certain that’s what this must be about, but it’s right where my mind goes. Considering how he acted in the shower and his evasiveness after, I can’t help but feel there’s some painful story to go along with his reaction—something that explains how this strong, confident man became so anxious and vulnerable...weak, even. It’s almost like there’s something he’s telling me without even using words, but I can’t quite make sense ofit.
I’m developing a serious issue...an Eric Westright issue. And he might be turning into anobsession.
26
Eric
No,this isn’tcomplicated.
I shut down in the shower before because of my own issues...because of how fucked up I am in the head. I was sure I totally screwed everything up—that the script that played out would be I pissed off this young kid who doesn’t understand the difference between rejection and a fucking anxiety attack, that he wouldn’t want to speak to me anymore and we’d go the rest of this trip without hardly seeing one another, or him avoiding me, at the veryleast.
But I’m so glad he came back tome.
With our lips locked, as I shove him back to the bed, this all makes perfectsense.
In a moment, I’m on top of him, and he accepts all my kisses despite what an asshole I was earlier. I’m amazed. Just when I think I can’t be surprised any more by Jesse, he goes and does something likethis.
When I heard that knock, I was lying on the bed after having taken a Xanax, recovering from what happened in the shower, hoping the pain would pass. Jesse couldn’t have understood what he’d awoken within me with such a simple move as showing his interest in my ass, but by the way he handled the situation, I know he understands it was more than me being an asshole despite the fact that that was how I approachedit.
I wish I dealt with it better. I wish I had the capacity to just brush it off, or even make it genuinely sound like it wasn’t something I was interested in. It’s a limitation I resent, one that makes me hate myself as well as the bastard I hold responsible, who haunts me every day, lingers in the back of my mind, as though he’s waiting to crawl back out and make me feel pathetic, like avictim.
I’m not a victim, though. I’ve told myself that God knows how many times. And yet, it’s always there. No amount of wishing it away ever seems towork.
Fortunately, between the Xanax and Jesse’s compassion, some of that tension has let up. We didn’t discuss the details of my past, of my pain, but on some level I feel like what we shared was so much more special—Jesse’s reverence for my boundaries, for my inability to go there. He could’ve pushed. I dreaded him attempting to bring any of that up, but he didn’t. He respected that I wasn’tready.
All I want to do right now is thank him for that, because I feel like in a moment, he didn’t only forgive me for my behavior, but he gave me permission to be my broken self withhim.
How does he do that tome?
How does this kid have this incredible power overme?
There’s something different about him, something that’s driving mecrazy.
I want to know more about the kind of man who handles a situation like that, who sees past my guardedness and my defense mechanisms. I’ve appreciated and reveled in the physical stuff we’ve shared. As close as our bodies get, though, what I want is so much deeper. What I crave is like when he shared that shit about when he was growing up, about who he really is. I know it’s selfish of me to want to get to know him yet keep myself at some distance, keep him out of my own head, away from those things I don’t want toface.
I lean back. His eyes are closed, his mouth hanging open like he’s waiting for me to return for another kiss, but I just look down at him, gaze at that beautiful face. He opens hiseyes.
“You really should’ve used sunscreen,” I tell him before reaching up to his face and setting my hand against his cheek. “Nothing should ruin this perfectskin.”
He chuckles. “Well, aren’t you a charmersuddenly?”
“I have mymoments.”
“I think you should let me take you to dinner tonight,” he tellsme.
