“Probably there should be no touching,” I say. “Just to make things simple. Unless it’s like…necessary for survival or something.”
“For survival? So…CPR?” Carter says, eyes sparkling. I know he’s teasing me, but somehow it doesn’t feel hurtful. There’s no bite to it, no real criticism.
It makes it easy for me to add, “Obviously. Also the Heimlich maneuver. And if you ever see a spider anywhere on my person, you have my permission in advance to touch whatever part of me is necessary to remove it.”
He presses his lips together, and I can tell he wants to laugh, but he keeps writing without breaking. “No touching,” he says slowly, his words in time with his pen. “Exceptions: Spiders, choking, stopped hearts.” He looks up. “Is that it for house rules?”
“I think so. Can you think of anything else?”
“Yes. You aren’t allowed to wear my clothes.”
I sit up a little taller. “Why not?”
“You tell me why you don’t want me to go shirtless, and I’ll tell you why I don’t want you to wear my clothes,” he says, a playful challenge in his eyes.
I huff out a sigh. “Fine. Just write it down.”
He nods as he writes. “Probably the dress you wore tonight should also be off the table.”
“Stop it,” I say, laughing, because once again, Carter is doing what he seems to do best. This conversation could be so uncomfortable, but he’s making the whole thing feel so much easier than it would with anyone else.
“What about when we’re out?” he asks. “Like we were tonight?”
“I’m comfortable with everything that happened tonight,” I say. “As long as we’re communicating, checking in to make sure we’re both okay.”
He nods. “So, touching, holding hands, kissing if it feels like it’s something a married couple would do. That’s all good?”
My mind tosses me back to the moment Carter’s lips touched mine. I half wonder if I’ll start dreaming up reasons to take him out in public just so we can do it again.
“Sounds great,” I say. “All good.”
“Good,” he says. “So basically the opposite ofno PDA. We’reonlyinto PDA.”
“ReasonablePDA,” I say.
“Naturally,” Carter says. “What about friend touching?”
I lift my eyebrows. “I need clarification because that statement sounds kind of questionable.”
He grins. “I just mean…like if I haven’t seen you in a week and it feels like I should hug you hello. Is that allowed? I have a lot of friends I might hug if I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“So…hello hugs?”
“Sure,” he says. “Or, I don’t know. A pat on the back if you’ve had a hard day or a helping hand if you trip. Just friendly stuff.”
“Right. No, that makes sense. I think we can handle friendtouching. But can we call it something else so it doesn’t sound like we’re randomly accosting our friends?”
“Friend…ly touching?” Carter says.
“That’s better.”
He nods as he writes. “Adding the -ly now.” He puts down his pen. “Okay. Is that it?”
“Almost,” I say. This is the part of the conversation I’ve been dreading the most. I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “We still need to talk about expectations regarding other people.”
His brow furrows. “Other people?”
I shrug. Why does this feel so incredibly awkward?
