“You finally going to let me convince you to move in with me?” he called, his thick British accent echoing down the narrow hallway.
I grabbed a pillow and shoved it over my face, muffling the groan I didn’t want him to hear. He couldn’t see me from where he was, but I still hid like it might save me from the conversation.
No. The answer was no. I wasn’t going to move in with Will because, truthfully, I was far more content living in Ollie and Nova’s garden apartment than in Will’s perfectly nice, perfectly adult flat.
Somewhere along the way, my best friend managed to fall in love with the most decent human being on earth. Ollie, who not only loved Nova fiercely but remodeled his downstairs apartment so I could have a place of my own. The two of them were upstairs, raising Scarlette, who technically wasn’t even biologically Ollie’s.
Will coached the Hands, the city’s pro-rugby team. Ollie was his assistant coach. That’s how we’d met. Somewhere between games, group dinners, and too many late nights, I ended up in Will’s bed.
A quiet part of me kept whispering that maybe Ishouldsettle down. Not because I was dying to play house, but because I saw what Ollie and Nova had. The soft kind of love that didn’t ask anything. It looked... easy and safe.
Will gave me that. Peaceful. Content. Predictable.
Yahoo.Clearly, I was over the moon.
Which wasn’t exactly fair to Will. Weird toothbrush-after-sex habit aside, he was a genuinely good guy. He doted on me. Showed up when he said he would. Made me tea when I had cramps. He was safe.
“Want to sit and talk about it?” He stepped out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and face glowing.
Ugh.I groaned internally this time.
Will loved a good debrief. It didn’t matter how the sex went; every time, he wanted to unpack it. Like we were in a meeting instead of my bedroom.
A whole performance review of my vagina.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said, flopping back on the bed. “You’re fine.”
He shook his head and reached for my hands. “No, you said I was too vanilla for you. I want to make sure I’m meeting your standards.”
“That was three years ago,” I deadpanned.
What I didn’t add was that, yeah, I’d been right. He was still vanilla. Sweet. Gentle. Formulaic. And maybe that worked for some people.
It didn’t work for me.
He hesitated. “Ollie’s never going to let me live down the day he walked in on you and two guys with ball gags in their mouths.”
“Of course he told you about that.”
Will held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not judging. I... I know you were in a relationship with two men back in the States, and I know I’m notthat. So sometimes I wonder if I’m even close to what you need.”
He wasn’t being cruel. If anything, he sounded nervous.
I wanted to tell him it was fine. That he was enough. That sweet, slightly boring sex and emotional stability were what I wanted.
But they weren’t. Not really.
“I, uh?—”
He gave me a tentative smile. “Tell me what I could’ve done better.”
I closed my eyes and seriously debated face-planting into a pillow and screaming. Instead, I let out a long sigh, squeezed his hands, and said as gently as I could, “I do think... a little more focus on the clit would be great.”
Because, really, whodidn’tlove more clit stim?
His eyes lit up. “I can do that.”
I smiled, despite myself.
