“Promise,” he says. “I’ll go to the corner of the tent over there while you change. I also pinky-promise not to look.” He releases my pinky and crawls to the corner, covering his eyes and proudly stating, “Ready.”
I chuckle and shake my head at his light, childish behavior. It’s endearing, really. He says the things and does the things I’d be too afraid to do out of fear of looking ridiculous. And maybe I would look ridiculous if I did, but he surely doesn’t.
I dig in my bag until I find the… old sweatpants and holey t-shirt that I brought. Because I was supposed to be in my own tent. Alone.
I don’t like people seeing me not put together, but then again, he just held me as I rocked and sobbed over the intense thundering in my brain. He’s also seen me wear this back at the house whenhe picked up Lucy for their first real date. It’s just Finley. I’m not trying to impress him. In fact, I am trying to turn him off from me.
Perfect.
With renewed hope that maybe my lack of proper dress will be the nail in the coffin for his feelings, I peel my clothes off, blushing when I’m stripped of my undergarments. I know I wouldn’t be able to even attempt to sleep if my thoughts were ruminating on dirty undergarments. I use a wet wipe to brush off the grime, and then I slip into fresh panties and a white sports bra before shrugging on the gray sweatpants and holy white t-shirt. “Ready.”
Finley drops his hands and scooches around. He lets out a low whistle as he looks me up and down. “You dress down nicely, Leilei.”
“Oh, shut up,” I snark, and then quickly begin to apologize for using harsh words.
He stands and takes a few strides towards me. “You do not have to apologize. You had a touch of joking in your voice and I’m aware it was not from malice.”
I sigh. “How can you tell those cues so easily?”
“Just the way my brain works. Trust me, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Now, I’m going to change, so you can go sit in the corner like I did or you can watch.” He winks, and I sprint to the corner of the tent, mildly stumbling over my backpack. Behind me, he laughs. After a moment, he asks, “Do you want to tell me what happened now?”
I bite my lip as my shoulders droop. At the very least, if he wasn’t offended by my clothes, this should be the glaring red light thattells him to stop pursuing me. If this doesn’t turn him away, then I really don’t know what will.
After a dramatic exhale, I begin. “You already know I’m autistic, Finley. It’s not something I necessarily go around thinking about, much less talking about. To me, that term is just a term to describe how I think and process and feel. You know touch obviously gets to me but so do random loud noises. It’s more than just getting a scare. It throws my brain into a panic that I can’t escape from, and even after the sound disappears in reality, it is still loud and present in my head. Sounding over and over again.”
There’s rustling somewhere behind me and then the zip of a bag. “How does it make you feel when you encounter the triggering of something?”
“With noises, it makes me want to tune out to everything. It’s loud, echoes around in my brain like a ping-pong ball. I can’t escape it until I calm down. With touch, it’s like my skin crawls. Well, depending on the type. I can't wear certain fabrics, like wool. My brain would explode if I had to experience that scratchy sensation for any length of time. When people touch me, I flinch away because all I can think about is their skin on mine. I’m accustomed to certain people, like my sister, parents, and Hadley. Your touch makes me uncomfortable in the sense that itdoesn’tmake me uncomfortable…”
“Why do you think that is?” he prompts.
“I—I don’t really know. It doesn’t make sense to me. It’s almost as if your touch is familiar. Safe. It calms me. Even if the sensation is like touching the sun.”
After a beat, he places his hands slowly on my shoulders and begins to rub the knots developed from today’s hike. “Is this okay?”
Tension melts away as he hits all the right spots, and I groan. “See. I shouldn’t like this. I usually don’t. But with you… it feels okay. Hot, but okay.”
His hands tighten on my shoulders before he pulls back, clearing his throat. “Are you ready for bed?”
I slowly stand and move around his stiffened frame towards my sleeping bag. His back is still towards me, in his black joggers and black t-shirt, even after I’ve prepared my sleeping space, three body lengths away from his.
This is it. He’s recognized that I’m not good for him.
Why does it feel like my heart is crying?
The silence is unnerving.
I slide into my sleeping bag and stare at the dimly lit red tint of the tent. After a minute, Finley clicks the light off, and then I hear him slipping into his sleeping bag.
“You no longer wish to date me, right?” I finally ask, my brain demanding clarity to the silence.
Finley doesn’t answer for a moment, but then he exhales. “I completely want you, Lorelei. That’s the problem. I want you more and more with every new thing I discover about you. But I worry you may always try to push me away because of your fears that you are not capable of being loved.”
“It’s not that I don’t feel capable of being loved, Finley.”I think?“It’s more like I fear leaving my safety. And I fear the intense feelings that Lucy always describes and feels. I fear that what I feel for you is only the beginning.”
“You—you feel something for me?” His voice is laced with a bit of awe and wonder. “Truly?”
I swallow, wishing for once truth didn’t roll off my tongue. “Yes. My heart rate picks up when I’m around you. Your touch brings me comfort. You make me laugh and smile. You’re intelligent, kind, and thoughtful. I’m concerned about your dating history, and I am concerned about leaving Juniper Grove and my family and my friends. I’m concerned about moving to a new country. I’m fearful of leading said country. But ultimately, Finley…Yes. I like you. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”
