He turned and met my eyes. I was standing just inside the arched doorway, waiting for him. Waiting to walk him out and kiss him on the cheek as he left, just like I’d done every other night that we’d beenhere.
“I feel…alive,” he said softly, his gray-green eyes searching my face. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like I did when I was younger. Before I was using so much. When music meant more to me than the drugs. When I had all kinds of dreams and hopes and aspirations for myself and for themusic.”
“That’s good,” I said. It was beautiful, actually. And not exactly unexpected. I could tell that’s how he was feeling, more or less, when we played together. But hearing him put those feelings into words made me feel warm allover.
“Yeah.” He looked around the studio. “Before, all I wanted was to get Dirty back.” His eyes met mine again. “But now… I just want to keep playing. This… getting to play with you like this… it’s a fucking dream come true forme.”
I just nodded, because I believed him. Iunderstood.
We’d just been working on a new song, one that he’d started writing earlier this year, and now I’d embellished the bass line on it, and we’d both been singing it together. It was definitely something we could record. I was planning to get Summer over to hear it and add a little of her magic to it, too, see what we could do withit.
I wanted to tell him how excited I was about it. That playing with him was pretty fucking dreamy for me, too. For severalreasons.
I’d never written much with Dirty; that was a big reason why I’d felt the need to cut a solo album, and probably would again. But even though Jesse and Zane wrote most of Dirty’s music, Dylan and I had always been included in the songwriting credits on each song, so that we’d all get an equal split in the royalties. And of course I appreciated that, but in the end it wasn’t just about the money or the credit. When Jesse and Zane wrote music, they weren’t so… collaborative. At least, they weren’t with me. With Jessa, it was different; they welcomed her input on any song. I’d never begrudged them the fact that the music they came up with—the three of them—was undeniably better-suited to Dirty than anything I could write… butthiswasspecial.
Seth wasspecial.
He listened to my ideas and got excited about them, played off of them, the way Summer did. We created well together. And I wanted to tell him all ofthat.
But somehow the words got choked up in my throat. I lost mynerve.
I just didn’t know how to do this. How to tell him how I was feeling without seeming like a hypocrite. Atease.
How to have sex with him again, when I couldn’t go the distance withhim.
Having sex with him, then telling him we can’t have sex… then having sex with him again? Then getting scared, and doing the whole thing over again? Hot.Cold.
Unfair.
I didn’t want to do that tohim.
To either ofus.
He was closing the distance between us, and I just stood here against the wall. I looked up at him as he leaned in; he kissed me on the cheek. It was soft and warm, but quick. “Thank you,” hesaid.
“Thankyou,” I managed towhisper.
His eyes held mine, and I was aware, distantly, of his hand moving. He was pulling something out of his jeanspocket.
My eyes dropped to the papers in his hand as my heart beat, heavy and quick, in mychest.
“I got tested.” He was unfolding the papers, carefully, and held them out to me. “I’m clean. I brought the results for you to see.” He was waiting for me to take them, so Idid.
I scanned the papers; results from a medical lab, dated earlier this week. There were several pages’ worth, a whole battery of blood tests that proved Seth free of every nasty STD I’d ever heardof.
“I’m not pressuring—” He faltered, like he wanted to make sure he chose the right words, as I handed the papers back to him. “I’m not expecting anything.” His gaze collided with mine again. “This isn’t about that, Elle. I’m not trying to pressure you to have sex with me again. I just… I want you to know I’m clean, so you don’t have to worry about what happened the otherday.”
I took that all in and nodded. “I know.” I appreciated it. In my experience, it was more than most men woulddo.
I’d had men completely balk at the idea of getting tested before sleeping with me. I’d had men debate with me over the necessity of wearing acondom.
Needless to say, in the end, I hadn’t had sex with thosemen.
But this man… he’d been inside me for mere seconds without a condom, and he was worried about me being worried aboutit.
“No matter what happens, Elle,” he said, “I just want you to feel safe withme.”
“I do,” I told him, and I realized it was true. “But… we would still have to use a condom. If we had sex.” The idea of that, the possibility… us, just standing here discussing it… it was getting mehot.
