Abbie laughs. “He’s definitely not asking me that. He means Noah,” she says. “Are you going to make us pry details out of you, or are you going to volunteer like a good friend?”
“Yeah, Gabe, how’s it living with your crush?” Ciarán’s eyes glitter.
I take a sip of wine and gather my thoughts. They’re both watching me expectantly. I hide so much from them. It’s strange, but instead of wanting to retreat, I want to talk.
“I kissed Noah.” The words fly out. I thought about texting them after it happened, telling Ciarán when I saw him during the week, but I didn’t. It’s been this secret I kept for myself. I think because I wasn’t sure it would keep happening. I was worried Noah would lose interest. He feels too good to be real at times.
Abbie starts clapping, but Ciarán… his smile is tight. He looks hurt, probably because I didn’t tell him. He notices me watching and smooths his expression. “When?”
I clear my throat. “Last week.”
There’s that look in his eyes again. My heart sinks.
“That’s exciting,” he muses.
Abbie is all wide eyes and hopeful energy. “How’d it happen? Did he just grab you and kiss you?”
“Um, no. I actually kissed him.”
The high-pitched sound she makes causes me to jump. When my eyes lock with Ciarán’s, they’re full of pride, and it makes a lump form in my throat.
His eyes are trained on me. “And he’s treating you right?”
God, he’s such a good friend to me. Cares about me beyond anything else. I wish I had told him sooner.
“Of course, he’s… great,” I say, then realize that isn’t even close to enough. “He’s perfect. Sweet and patient. Funny in a dorky way.” I blow out a deep breath. “It’s all… good.”
The word feels too small for what’s happening between us. Before we even kissed, it felt like more, but I don’t know how to explain everything I’m feeling.
“How salacious,” Ciarán says around a bite of pasta.
“It’s not salacious,” I say, face warming. “It’s more than that, it’s… careful. And also not? It’s slow and somehow not slow. He’s gentle with me. But the last few days it’s been—” I search for a word and don’t find one I trust. “More.”
I drop my head into my hand and groan. “Why is this so hard to speak about? I’m talking circles around myself.”
When I look up, Abbie’s eyes have a look that makes me feel seen down to my bones. “Slow is good, careful is good.”
“It is,” I say. “It’s… so good.” I laugh at myself because apparently that’s the only adjective I know. “Ugh, this is ridiculous, I have a degree in English lit for crying out loud. What I’m trying to say is he’s letting me set the pace,” I rush out.
Ciarán leans back in his chair. “I’m glad to hear that. And how are you?” he asks, tilting his head to catch every facet of my reaction. “Your head, I mean.”
I think of the thigh-squeeze. The way my body reacted before my mind could tell me I was safe. The way Noah removed his hand immediately, stayed with me, and listened. How every night since, his mouth meets mine, heat threaded throughtenderness. My mind hasn’t stopped being dark. But it’s not cutting as deep.
“I feel…” I lift my fork and set it down. “I feel okay.” It sounds small and lands heavy. “With him. Still some hard moments but… Better than usual.”
Their faces ease like they’ve both been holding a breath on my behalf.
We slip into lighter topics. Abbie tells a story about a student who tried to turn in a monologue that was clearly a veiled love letter to another student. “It was brilliant,” she says, delighted. “I gave him a B because while he didn’t follow the guidelines, I wanted to throw confetti. It was so damn cute!”
Ciarán throws himself back in his chair. “They're cute at that age, then most grow up to be buffoons. Why do half the men on Hinge pose with fish? Am I supposed to be impressed? Am I meant to think, ah yes, he can provide me with a trout in times of famine?”
Abbie nearly spills her wine. She drops into a deep, gruff voice. “Me man, me feed you. Bring fish.”
That voice coming out of her pretty face cracks us both up.
“Please. I want a man who can provide orgasms, not salmon,” Ciarán says, twirling his fork like a wand.
“Maybe it’s a small-town thing,” I say, grinning despite myself. “Everyone shows off what they’re proud of.”
