That last thought clears my hormone-clouded brain for a moment, and I study the man before me, whose hand has not moved from my knee. His eyes are hooded and staring at my lips. We’re close enough that we could kiss, and as much as my body is craving for that to happen, he needs to know the truth of what brought me here.
“E,” I mutter.
His gaze shifts from my lips to my eyes. “Yes?”
“You don’t want me.”
The corner of his lip lifts lazily. It’s more attractive than it has any right to be.
“I don’t?”
“No.”
His hand trails upward to my thigh, and my cock twitches to life, blood flowing south.
“And why is that, Theo?”
His mouth is closer to mine now. His warm breath skittering over my lips.
“Because I just broke up with my boyfriend.”
To my surprise he doesn’t pull back, doesn’t balk. He looks into my eyes, and I swear it’s as if he’s staring into my soul, reading it and assessing it like it’s an open book laid flat on the table between us.
“Are you saying you’re a heartbroken soul?”
He’s recalling my question to him before. If he came here looking to set up lonely souls or heartbroken ones.
E’s other hand finds my chest, and he rests it over the top of my heart. It thuds so loudly I hear it in my ears. I’m positive he can feel it pounding beneath his touch.
“I—” I search for the answer. I know I should say yes, but I’m not heartbroken. Angry, yes. Annoyed at myself for moving in with Ricky so soon after dating, yes. But heartbroken? “No,” I say aloud.
“Your heart doesn’t feel broken.”
Said heart pounds louder under his palm as if to agree. “It probably should be.”
“You loved him?” He asks.
Did I love Ricky?
I close my eyes and take a quiet breath. I think about how we met—at a bar while I was out with some friends. We danced. We hooked up. We hooked up again. Eventually, I started spending nights at his place, and it felt easy to move in with him.
His condo is nice, bigger than my old apartment, and I liked having someone to come home to after work. Someone to cookfor and hang out with, even if we didn’t have much in common. Eventually I blurted out that I loved him, and he said the words back. If I’m being honest with myself, the declarations always felt hollow, but I convinced myself it was because we were still new. That our love would only blossom with time.
I was wrong.
Now, sitting here with a stranger after being dumped, it’s all becoming clear. I never loved Ricky. I loved the idea of Ricky; the hole he filled in my heart and my life. But we were never going to last, and deep down I always knew that.
I open my eyes to meet E’s, even more aware of his touch and nearness. He smells of rich florals and spice, with a hint of vanilla. It’s incredible, unlike anything I’ve ever smelled. His hand still presses over my heart, and I find the weight of it soothing. Grounding me to this present moment.
“I don’t think I did, no,” I finally answer.
“But you’re upset over the breakup?”
“I think I’m more upset that I wasn’t the one to do it first. That I didn’t listen to my friends when they told me I shouldn’t move in with him yet.”
“That’s understandable.”
I search E’s eyes for any sign that what I’m saying has turned him off, but there is none. In fact, the weight of his hand has become stronger, fingers pulsing against my chest. Even in the low light, his pupils have dilated and his hand on my thigh has moved higher yet.
