My body flushes remembering that night.That was so incredibly hot.
I could easily lose myself in that memory, but Jason needs me here now. I can fantasize later.
“Yeah, but that’s all completely under your control,” I say. “You choose how you edit it, you choose what you wear or don’t wear. You choose if you even air it.”Truth is, him climbing undressed really doesn’t happen allthatoften. He has the goofy, out-there YouTube persona and he knows there’s no small amount of attention his show gets for his hotness. But he’s also a serious climber, not some climbing pin-up model, and he likes his show to reflect that, too.
Here, though, they can make him look however they want. It’s invasive enough for them to do that with our relationship—them doing that with his body is just plain awful.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, not sounding entirely convinced. “But I knew when I signed the contracts there would be things that would be out of my control.” He rolls his eyes up to the sky. “I sure as hell didn’t knowallthe things that would be out of my control, but—”
“This is still different.”
He lets out a frustrated huff. “Well, I agreed to the boxers and the photo shoot, and I didn’t have to. So I can’t exactly blame Rich for that, can I?”
I suck in my lips, guilt twinging at me again. He said he didn’t want to do it when I first brought it up, and while I didn’t encourage him to, I didn’t exactly go out of my way to let him know it was totally okay for him to turn this whole thing down. I was, once again, too caught up in my own issues.
“You might have agreed,” I say slowly, “but you didn’t know it would feel like this—and even if you didn’t love the idea from the beginning, it’s easy to convince yourself that you should feel okay about it and so itisokay. You’re still allowed to feel uncomfortable and upset, and it’s not wrong or your fault.”
“You really think so.” It’s not a question, more like surprise tinged with relief.
“Yes. And it’s absolutely not your fault that they treated you like that. Hitting on you when you clearly didn’t want them to or Kate touching you at all, let alone your ass.” All of this comes out like a growl, and he looks over at me again. I think he appreciates my anger on his behalf. I wish I had shown it before. “You being in your boxers doesn’t give them the right to do any of that. It’s like when people say a woman asked for it because of the way she was dressed.”
He narrows his eyes. He gets just as pissed about that kind of shit as I do. I think he’s never thought to apply it to himself.
Something else occurs to me, probably way later than it should have. “Did I . . . did I make you uncomfortable when I said you were hot earlier?”
He winces, which confirms it for me and leaves me with a sick pit in my stomach. “Not—” he starts, then shakes his head and puts his hand on mine. “I was uncomfortable, but not, like, because of you. I love it when you look at me like that. But this was—I mean the situation—”
A flying beetle lands on the knee of my jeans, and I flick it off. “I get it. I could see that you were uncomfortable, and I shouldn’t have—”
“Em, hey, it’s not your fault.” He squeezes my hand. “You may be my co-worker sometimes, but you’re always my girlfriend. It was just—the whole damn thing made everything feel . . .” He closes his eyes again, and I can tell he’s still ashamed.
“Super shitty?”
“Yeah.” He lightly scuffs his bare toe in the dirt. He was wearing his climbing shoes when he took off running—which alone shows how freaked out he was—but once he got to the rock he must have taken them off, because they’re on the ground next to us now.
“Because it is. It’s violating. And,” I continue, because I can already imagine what his next argument might be, mainly because I’d stupidly thought of it as an excuse for their behavior earlier myself, “it’s different than a girl hitting on you in some club or something. You’re working here. You’re being a professional. And you’re stuck here with them. It’s a lot harder to say no and brush them off.Not,” I add, “that it’s any better for some chick in a club to not take no for an answer or grope you. Becausehell no.”
His smile at me is more relaxed than before, less self-conscious. I think I may be getting through to him. And also, I think he’s always found my defensiveness of him sexy.
“I get what you’re saying. If anyone had done that to you, I would have knocked them the hell out, so clearly it was seriously messed up. But it still . . . it doesn’t feel like it should be the same thing.”
“Because you’re a guy and I’m a girl?”
“Shit, that’s sexist as hell, isn’t it? God.” He tugs at his spiky hair with his free hand.
I shrug. “It’s a cultural thing, I think.That guys aren’t supposed to feel this way. It’s not, like,manlyor some stupid crap like that. But if one of your guy friends had something like this happen to them and felt this way, you wouldn’t be a jerk to them about it.”
He shakes his head, though it’s in agreement. Jason is so rarely a jerk to anybody about anything—not unless they hardcore deserve it. He genuinely cares about people and would do pretty much anything for his friends.
He’s such a good guy.That’s why it scares me that maybe he’s convinced himself he wants this future with me because the thought of hurting me kills him.
“Okay,” he says. “But there isadifference, right? Like, if some guy harasses you, you have to worry that he might be a physical threat. And no way did I think one of the Not-Wives could actually hurt me.”
This is a good point. “That’s true. But it doesn’t make it okay for guys to be harassed. Not at all. And that’s what happened to you, and we’re fucking done with that.”
“They better watch out.The wrath of Emily is no joke.” He smiles again and bumps my shoulder with his.
“Hell no, it isn’t.” I smile back and then, finally, feel like I can wrap my arms around him and hold him tight. Like maybe I did something to make up for my part in his hurt.
