Because I’m that person, right? Because I’m the one who liked the idea of dinner first?
I hate what this is doing to me. How all my insecurities are bubbling to the surface and forcing me to confront whether they’re warranted or a trauma response. I hate feeling defensive and jealous and unsure about where I stand with Deacon. Butwhat I hate more than that is my fear of talking to him about it. Why am I like this?
If my parents taught me anything it’s that Iamwanted. So why did one man not wanting me four years ago turn into a fear that’s still running my life?
I’ve been trying so hard to push past it. I might have balked at first, but since then, I’ve beenin thiswith both of them. I’ve committed to it. Still, while I know Isaac wants us both, I’m not entirely sure Deacon does. He’s given me a chance, for sure. But my crush on him could be a detour he’s trying to navigate until the road he really wants to be on with Isaac clears again. So yeah—there’s some natural jealousy there. I want them both to want me as much as I want them. And with Deacon, it’s been hit or miss. Isaac does a good job of bridging the gap between us, but there’s still a gap, and right now, I’m feeling it.
I log into my computer and do my best to get my mind on something less complicated—like computer programming. I’m totally absorbed in working out some of the new and impossible interface bugs on my scheduling app when someone knocks on my door.
I sigh. “Yeah?”
It’s Deacon, looking sort of lost. I wonder if Isaac kicked him out of the kitchen, or if he’s here of his own free will.
“I wasn’t finished talking to you,” he says.
“Okay.” I gesture to my bed for him to sit.
He does and picks up where I guess he thinks we left off. “I don’t ask what the two of you do together when you’re alone.”
I turn in my chair to face him. “Well, you’re allowed to.”
“I just assume you’re fucking.”
I shake my head, newly frustrated. “That’snotwhat we always do, though. We work together. We talk. We’re trying to figure things out.”
“I’m trying to figure things out, too.”
I get that, and I also can’t imagine the way he processes a relationship like this. “I’m sorry, Deacon. I don’t know all the rules yet.”
“You get that sex is one of the ways I connect, right?” he asks.
Nausea grips me as I think of him and Isaac. The way all their kisses look starved and desperate. The way Deacon reaches for him. Needs him. I nod.
“Like one of the easiest ways for me.”
That doesn’t track with as much as he demanded we communicate so much up front, but it makes how muchlesstalking we’re doing now make sense. “Have you always been like that?”
“Well, no… Sort of. But just because something only lasted for an hour or a night doesn’t mean it’s worth less. I’m not saying every hook up I’ve ever had was meaningful, but they weren’t all empty and unmemorable.”
“What about the times you and I had sex?” I ask, extremely nervous to hear what he has to say about that.
“What about them?”
Ouch.Fuck. I swallow hard. “What did they mean for you? What was it worth?”
“Um…” He looks down at his hands, his fingertips tapping a rhythm against each other. “Us having sex means you were serious when you said you liked me.”
“Do you feel like you’re connecting with me?”
“Yes, but…”
I really think I might throw up.
“It’s just different than with Isaac. He feels safe.”
Safe?Isaac?The man who thinks he can and should be in a relationship with two men at the same time? The thirty-five year old man whose longest relationship was like—a season? “So he’s safe, and I’m…what?”
“Exciting? Scary?”
