Wasn’t it more than fun for her?
Perhaps I’m expecting too much. After all, there were a lot of firsts. I don’t want to assume but I guess the only first part of it for her was on the set of a television show.
My heart suddenly staccatos in my chest and I try to push out any thought of the situation we’re in. I don’t want the real world to rush in. The only thing that exists right now is Dolly and me in this too-small twin bed.
‘Though,’ Dolly continues, stretching out her legs. I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest as I wait for her to say something profound about us. Instead, what she says is, ‘I’m not sure Rihanna’s entire makeup empire could hide the bags under my eyes.’
Oh. Well, never mind. I’m getting too caught up in the narrative in my head as usual, and I need to just experience the moment as it happens.
‘You look beautiful,’ I insist, kissing her on the tip of her nose.
She smiles, wrinkling the tip from side to side like a cartoon rabbit. ‘In the lowlight, sure,’ she agrees with a wickedsmile that I want to kiss off her face. But she stretches again, distance growing between the two of us. ‘In high definition? Perhaps not.’
‘I don’t want to think about the show,’ I say a little sharply. ‘Let’s just enjoy this.’
She yawns, and I shiver with delight as her fingers find my thigh, stepping up to my hips. Every touch is a joyful pinprick.
But the bubble has been broken. I can’t stop thinking about what’s outside the door. How we’re going to navigate today. What we’re going to tell production. What I’m going to tell…
No, shut up brain.
‘What?’ Dolly says. My eyes, which were probably off-focus looking at the wall while I drifted inside my own stream of thoughts, snap back to her concerned face.
‘Sorry. Nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I just…’ I begin, unsure where to start with all the things we are going to have to talk about. ‘I think I just want to talk about last night.’
‘Okay.’ She rubs the sleep out of her eyes. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
This question feels too open and is the kind that makes my brain itch. It’s still all too big – the fact we kissed, fucked, fell asleep naked, told each other we liked each other (not in that order) and now, as a result of that, probably need to talk about the ramifications. Plus the whole I need your advice as a… Hell, I don’t even know how she identifies. That seems rude, given the circumstances.
My train of thought grinds to a halt under the weight of all the things we need to talk about.
The gap of silence must have been too long, because suddenly Dolly is out of my arms and sitting up against the headboard, the covers pooling in her lap. All I can feel is coldair where she once was, like my body is highlighting all the places she once touched me in neon. It’s jarring.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper, frustrated that I can’t get the words out or in the right order, especially now she’s moved.
I’m still trying to find the words when I hear a door across the hallway open and close. That means someone else is awake, probably another of the early rising team like Whit or Lina.
I can’t help but notice the way Dolly nervously looks at the door.
‘Come on, we should probably start getting up.’
This might be the first time she’s ever stopped waiting for me to speak and thathurts. I’m so used to other people doing it to me, but Dolly? She’s always let me take my time.
‘I think—’ I begin before I’m ready, but I want to stop her from getting up and out of this bed. In the gap, I notice her glancing at the door again.
‘Tell me?’ I can tell she’s trying to sound patient but failing.
Fuck. I’m fucking this up.
‘I just wanted to know if I should start packing now?’ I blurt. It’s not really what I wanted to say at all; the logistics of moving on through this experiment were literally at the bottom of the list.
Dolly’s eyes soften and she takes my hand in both of hers, cradling it like a bird that’s flown into a window. ‘Do you want to? I mean, if you think that’s the right decision then obviously I support you. You need to know that production might kick up a fuss about breach of contract, even at this stage. It’s probably not as bad as if you’re engaged but…’
This is not quite the answer I was expecting, but then talking with neurotypical people always feels like it takes a few goes for us both to translate each other. ‘I… I don’t know? I’m just trying to wrap my head around what we should do.’
