“You get it?”
“She wants to be handled tenderly, almost like a child. To surrender to someone more powerful than her. And when she does, when he has his way with her, then she’ll be a woman.”
My heart is in my throat. I shouldn’t’ve doubted that he’d understand. Not everyone would, and maybe that makes it a bad choice for a caption, but Finn does. “I think every woman feels like a girlanda woman at some point during sex.” I pass the book back to him. “You don’t think it’s too vague? Or weird?”
“Obviously not.”
I don’t understand why that’s obvious until I drop my eyes to his crotch. I look away just as quickly, but not before I notice the bulge in his sweatpants.
“C’mere,” he says.
Butterflies light up my insides, an eruption of fluttering wings, as if I’d spooked a bird sanctuary.This is it. I’m going to do this. Finn will be the fourth man I’ve ever slept with, and I don’t want to mess this up. I want it to be right, to be good, better than good.
I walk to him, closing the space between us. He reaches up and moves my hair over my shoulder, resting it against my back. He looks at the neckline of my blouse, his eyes trailing the curve of my neck up to my mouth. He never meets my gaze, but circles around me, so he’s at my back. “It’ll be simple,” he says. “Just undo the top button of your blouse.”
He leaves me where I am. I look over my shoulder. He turns the camera equipment around. My thoughts jumble. I don’t understand what he means. Or what he’s doing. Or why I don’t go stand in front of the camera instead of him moving everything to face me.
I look forward again and my eyes land on the couch. Thecouch? He’s aiming the camera there? If he thinks he’s going to record us having sex, he’s delusional. He saw how hesitant I was about taking photos while fully dressed, does he think I’d let him video us while he strips me, lays me down, kisses me?
It occurs to me—I don’t know. I have no idea what he expects, because I don’t actually know him at all.
I asked to come up here. I read to him from my journal. Maybe I’ve made him think I’m looking for danger, thrills, sex. Aren’t I, though? Isn’t that what it would be to record something so intimate? Dangerously thrilling, taboo, wrong?
I inhale sharply as I imagine performing for the camera—and then him watching me after I’ve left.
“Doing okay?” he asks.
I look back at him. “Are you . . . are you going to record it?”
“Record what?”
“Us?”
He stops fiddling with the camera to stare at a spot on the floor. He seems to think hard about his next move, then comes over and looks me straight in the eye. “Halston?”
I try not to fidget. “Y-yes?”
“We’re never going to do anything—anything—that makes you uncomfortable. I wouldn’t record something like that without talking to you first. To be honest, it never crossed my mind.”
I exhale a long breath, relieved. Or am I? A small part of me likes the idea of Finn savoring this later. “Good,” I say.
“And another thing.” He looks me over. “We’re not going to sleep together.”
This time, I know exactly what I feel. Disappointment. “We’re not?”
“No.”
I try to pinpoint what might’ve happened the last few minutes to extinguish his desire, but my mind is reeling too fast. It wasn’t easy for me to decide to do this. Did I imagine his interest, from the earlier fire in his eyes to the bulge in his pants? “Why not?” I ask.
Even though I’m already looking at him, he lifts my chin slightly with his knuckle. “Don’t lie to me. Ever. I’ve had enough secrets and sneaking around for one lifetime.”
“When did I lie?” I ask. “Everything I told you was true.”
“You didn’t break up with him.”
“We . . . we’re as good as—”
“That’s not enough. That affair I had was a nightmare. I won’t do it again.”
