I don’t want to do that.
“Then tell me what the hell is wrong with you.”
“Nothing is wrong. I was thinking about a book I read yesterday.”
The tense vibes from him shift. “What book?”
“Just a book. It was different. I don’t think they would have let me read it if I hadn’t found it myself.”
“What was wrong with it?”
I edge closer, whispering even though no one else is around. “There’s sex in it. A lot of sex. And it’s…”
“It’s what?”
“It’s wild.”
“How wild?” He’s intrigued but not disapproving.
“They use different positions. Not just what we do. And the woman… she gets there even in the second part when he’s penetrating her. I didn’t even think that was possible.”
“I think it is possible—at least from what I’ve understood.”
This piece of information distracts me from the topic at hand. I stiffen. “So I’ve been doing it wrong all this time?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He must not like my hair falling into my face because he often strokes it back behind my ear. The touch is gentle. Nice. So I always like it rather than thinking it’s presumptuous. He does so now, leaving his fingers combed through some of my loose hair as he adds, “I think it’s one of those things that’s different for different people. I thought at first it was my fault because I didn’t have any experience and wasn’t good at it, but I don’t think that anymore. We’re not doing it wrong. We just do it likeus.”
“Okay.” I relax, relieved because it’s clear he means what he’s saying. “Anyway, I’ve never read anything like it. And it makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
I hesitate because saying the next thing feels like a risk. “It makes me wonder if they’re cutting us off from… parts of life on purpose. I mean, if we don’t know what we’re missing, we wouldn’t know to fight for it. Dad used to talk about that sometimes. Maybe he was right. They’re doing it on purpose.”
Mason is silent. Thinking.
“Do you think I shouldn’t ask the question?”
“You should ask,” he says gruffly. “We should ask. I think about myself a couple years ago, laboring in the Capitol, cut off from everything that mattered to me, surrounded by strangers but all alone. I think I was only half a person.”
“That’s how I felt before too.”
I’m filled with a deep wave of empathy. Understanding. Connection.
Like I’m not alone anymore.
After a couple of minutes, Mason asks more lightly, “So why did it make you squirmy.”
“I wasn’t squirmy.”
“Teresa.”
“Fine. I was getting… you know…”
“Turned on?”
“Yes. I don’t know why, but thinking about it got me excited.”
His voice is different when he asks, “Did it really?”
