He’s not the problem. I’m the problem. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep my panic locked away inside and not do something stupid like start crying right here in the hotel hallway.
I’ve seen a therapist off and on my entire life, and I know she’d tell me to think through what I’m afraid of, pinpoint it so I can talk myself down.This goes way beyond a simple fear of getting hurt again.
I’m afraid of being in a relationship again where all I do is hurt and be hurt.
I’m afraid of becoming the person I was again. I’m afraid that’s still who I am.
And most of all, I’m afraid of hurting Su-Lin, who is brightness and joy and doesn’t deserve the shit I carry with me on a daily basis.
I’ve spent the last three years telling myself it’s better for everyone if I just never go there, but Su-Lin is everything I could ever want and more, and it’s so hard to be near her and not let myself think about what might be, for better or for worse. And even if I should walk away, I don’t know that I have the strength to.
I also don’t have it in me to be everything she deserves, which leaves us both in an impossible place.
God, maybe I should have told her I wasn’t ready and left it at that. But kissing her felt like heaven, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.
Baby steps.That’s what Su-Lin said. Casual. Warming up. Getting used to the idea. She knows that’s exactly what I need. While it feels like I’ve made a giant leap today, it was really four months’ worth of baby steps, building trust, getting used to the idea of ever dating again, and even more terrified by the idea of taking too long and losing her forever.
I can do this. She’s worth it.
But I also know not to push myself too far, so I’m not facing her father again today.
Three
Su-Lin
It’s the day before YouCon officially starts, but the convention center is bustling, with vendors getting their booths set up and the convention employees running around trying to put out fires (not literally—at least not that I’ve seen). Even with all the chaos today, it’s nothing compared to how this place will be the rest of the week, when we’re flooded with fans and cosplayers and newbie YouTubers looking to get a leg up. I’ve gone to YouCon every year sinceThe Real Sockwives of Los Angelesgot big, back when I was eighteen. Even the years when I wasn’t making any new content, I still got invited on panels and did meet and greets, signings, that sort of thing. So I know what to expect.
Brendan claims he does, too. He’s done video editing for years, and it’s not like he hasn’t been to conventions before. But it’s different when you’re one of the celebs—something he’s about to be, what with all the excitement surrounding the launch of our new project,The Real SockwivesTelevisionTakeover.
I’m concerned it’s going to send him into a panic attack. I’ve been around for a few of those. He says they feel like he’s being chased by a bear.They kind of look like that, too, his breath heavy and his forehead sweaty and not for the kinds of delicious reasons I’ve been fantasizing about non-stop. Still, if the con gets to be too much, he can escape to the hotel room. And I’ll be here the whole time.
Is it bad that I kind of like that having me around seems to help him panic less?
I’m going to go with no. Not bad. I’m his best friend. It’s good that my presence helps. Being around him always makesmefeel better, after all.
Especially since the wedding.
I grin over at him as we haul the last boxes from his car. I’ve got four boxes stacked on the lone dolly I found in my dad’s garage (we probably should have planned better and gotten another one, but too late for that) with my signature Big Gulp perched on top. (Mei-Ling’s wedding rule number seven: no Big Gulps. Or soda of any kind. Which was a tragedy of non-caffeinated proportions. Yesterday I told Brendan I’m thinking of starting a new career as a wedding planner for people who want their weddings full of puppets and Big Gulps and bubbles and other fun things, and Brendan agreed that’s a niche in the market that is chronically underserved.) Brendan is carrying two more boxes in his arms, around which he’s straining to see.
“Just keep walking,” I say. “I’ll tell you if you’re going to run over anyone.”
“If only I trusted your word over your desire to see me walk into a concrete pillar.” But he obviously does, because he stops shifting the boxes perilously to see over.
“You’re probably fine until you see me pull my phone out to film you.”
“Noted.” He smiles at me, and I’m so caught by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his face brightens that I just barely grab his arm in time to keep him from plowing over a vendor setting up a floor display. My Big Gulp nearly topples, but I right it, avoiding the even worse tragedy of losing forty ounces of carefully concocted soda mix.
It’s almost as good as the soda mixes Brendan makes when he picks one up for me on the way to my house.
“Thanks,” Brendan says, as if it wasn’t my distraction that nearly led him to crushing a cardboard stand full of comics. Brendan’s smile is quickly becoming my kryptonite. How has it become even more incredible in the last few days?
Probably because I don’t have to imagine anymore how good those lips might feel against mine. I know how they feel, and it’s amazing. I’ve never had a kiss before that made my whole body burn—but I sure have a lot of experience with that now, after all the making out we’ve done in the two days since that wedding night.
It’s a good thing we already had most of our work for the con done before the wedding. Because while we technically were in the studio most of that time, well . . .
The memory of his mouth on my neck, of his hands stroking along my breasts under my shirt, of the feel of his chest under my fingers—I’m a little breathless, and not from pulling a dolly loaded with boxes of merch. I’m also finding myself scanning the convention hall for out-of-the-way areas I can pull him into for a repeat of that memory.
I need to focus, and not on jumping Brendan in a crowded convention center.
