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I shake my head. “No. I just like . . . I like the way it feels. I like touching it and washing it and . . .”

“Then that’s okay,” she says, a light smile over her face. “If anything, that’s kind of beautiful, Bennett.”

I fidget again.

“How are things between you progressing intimately?”

I’ve spoken about this sort of thing with Dr. Anya before. Several times. Opened up to her years earlier when I thought something was wrong with me for not being interested in physical intimacy. And then again about the things I did want with physical intimacy.

This weekend is important to Paloma, to me, and I want to make sure I’m doing this the right way the first time.

“They’re . . . fine,” I say carefully, reaching up to scratch at the back of my neck, wishing I’d let my dad cut my hair. It’s getting too long—

“Can you elaborate on that?”

“We’ve . . . done things. It can be overwhelming, but I like that. It’s a good feeling.”

She nods again. “That’s okay. Have you shared with her what you enjoy? With intimacy?”

That’s a hard no—it’s one thing dealing with my first experiences with sex and pleasure. It’s another to bring up my proclivities, the need for control that bleeds into intimacy. Especially with Paloma . . .

I shrug, blood rushing hot in my cheeks. “I just want to make sure I’m doing things the right way.”

There’s a long pause, though I’m sure it feels longer to me than it truly is.

“Sex is complicated, for everyone—that part has nothing to do with your diagnoses, Bennett. Sex is probably just as scary and exciting a prospect for Paloma as it is for you. I think you need to remember that. Because there might be some awkward or stressful parts to being in this type of relationship with her. But that’s okay.”

Her smile is reassuring as she leans back and watches me for a moment.

“It’s just like everything else. It gets better with practice.”

“Yeah?”

Dr. Anya nods before straightening up, my cue that our time is over since I’m not allowed to have a watch or stress over time while in my sessions. “Yeah. I think you should just focus on communication. Ask her lots of questions. Don’t be afraid to communicate, especially when it feels overwhelming. Trust her and yourself.”

• • •

“The cleaners were just there last week, so everything should be good. And I called them to stock the fridge with the list you gave me,” my dad’s voice comes over my speaker as I pull into Paloma’s dorm parking lot. “And if you—”

“I got it,” I cut him off. “I promise, I’m good.”

My dad sighs heavily over the phone. “All right, all right. I’m hovering. I get it. Just please check in and let me know you made it and when you’re heading home, okay?”

“All right,” I agree. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

We hang up just before someone taps on my window: Paloma, in her overalls with a colorful sweater slung over one shoulder and her hair in a loose bun at the back of her head. She’s smiling brightly at me, face bare and eyes glinting almost caramel in the sunlight.

I unlock the truck door before she can pull on the handle impatiently, laughing as she stumbles her way into the cabin of the truck.

“Hey, Bennett,” she says, half-climbing over the console and kissing my mouth before I can prepare for it. My heart pulses like it’s reaching from my chest for her.

I rub at my chest before shaking my head and looking away from her. “Hey, Paloma.”

“Where’s Seven?”

“With my dad for the weekend.”