“Can you slice the chicken?” he asks, gesturing to the cutting board where the cooked meat is resting while he starts on the cucumber.
I nod and get to work cutting it into thin strips. When I’m finished, he arranges the warm meat over a big bowl of lettuce with lots of tomatoes and thinly sliced red onion. Then he explains that the Greek yogurt in the dressing we’re making will add extra protein as well.
“I have no doubt it will be one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”
“Sounds like you have high expectations over there.”
“I do. Someone taught me I needed to raise my standards. And yet you continue to meet the new bar.”
He smiles before going back to watching what he’s doing. My phone buzzes a few times in the back pocket of my jeans, but I ignore it while I set a bent elbow on the counter and rest my chin on my fist so I can watch Jordan work. He adds lemon juice, dill, salt, and pepper to the small bowl along with the garlic, cucumber, and yogurt.
Dipping a spoon in the sauce, he holds it out for me. “Want to taste?”
I lean forward to take it into my mouth. As my tongue curls around the metal, warmth spreads through me. It’s nice to let someone take care of me. Jordan’s eyes find mine as he uses his thumb to gently stroke my cheek.
“It’s really good,” I tell him. He smiles again, and his chest puffs up just a little bit. I move to plate some salad for each of us, and we sit together at his kitchen island to eat.
It’s honestly starting to scare me how much I like this man. I’ve never been this into another person. But we both knowthis can’t last. I’m only in North Bay temporarily. All the reasons we held off being together for so long are still lurking in the future, waiting for us to come down from this lover’s high and make our crash landing back in reality.
“Hey, um, thanks again for helping with my move. And for taking the time to go through all those boxes with me. I know I’ve been creating a lot of extra work for you recently. I really appreciate it.” I keep my eyes on my plate and shovel a tomato into my mouth.
Jordan sets down his fork and looks at me. “You’re welcome for the move. But I’ve been thoroughly enjoying every second with you. Purely selfish on my end. No need to thank me,” he insists, placing a hand on my thigh.
I purse my lips and tilt my head at him, because how could it not be extra work for him? It’s not just the move. He spent hours learning my body when we were on that bunk bed. He’s always so careful to consider my needs and make sure to give me options that feel safe.
“I know I’m a lot,” I admit.
He shakes his head again, serious this time. “It makes me a little sad to know other people have made you feel that way. There’s nothing wrong with having needs. You’ve been really patient with respecting my boundaries, too.”
I scoff. “That’s different.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Because all I had to do was wait to see if you would catch feelings. But being with me puts an actual physical burden on you. I’m sure you’ve never been with anyone who takes as much work as I do to be with.”
“And? So what if your needs are different than mine, or anyone else’s for that matter?”
I blink at him and he sighs, reaching out to stroke my hair.
“Let me try to explain it another way. Let’s say we were sitting together on the sofa. If I said my elbow hurt and I asked you to move so I could shift to another position, would you think twice about trying to make me more comfortable?”
“Of course not.” It would be ridiculous to make him sit there in pain when I could do something as easy as scoot over a few inches. “But what does that have to do with anything?”
“Why is it any different if you’re uncomfortable in bed and we need to make some adjustments?”
I blink at him. I don’t have an answer. I don’t know why. I only know it’s been my experience that it usually bothers people when I ask them to change their routine around me. I never questioned it because, to be honest, a big part of me understood how it might be annoying when I’m the only one in a group who can’t handle things. Loud music or bright lights might not be bothering someone else the way they bother me. It’s not fair for me to ask a whole group of friends to leave a party early just because I’ve hit my limit and can’t handle any more peopling. So, how could it be fair to ask even more of a romantic partner? Isn’t it selfish to need people to change their plans just for me?
But I guess he has a point. I wouldn’t think Jordan was being selfish or unreasonable in the example he just gave.
“Maybe it’s not,” I admit. “But I’m not used to it, and sometimes it’s hard to accept you’re being genuine because I’ve gotten a lot of pushback on this kind of stuff before.”
“I’m sorry you went through that. But I’m not other people, Shelley.” His promise glides over me like sunscreen, smooth and protective, a barrier between me and the things that could hurt.
“No. You’re not.”
He gives me a soft, warm smile. “If you want to stick around and watch a movie or something, that’s cool. But I’mgoing to shower and turn in early. I’m supposed to be at the field first thing tomorrow.”
Armed with the newfound confidence he’s helped me gain, I decide to be direct and ask for what I want.
