A Risk Worth Taking

by Jessica Joyce

“But it’s not as natural for us to think about the risks associated with not changing. What are you missing out on if you don’t take the job or move across the country?

To not take a risk that could change my life? It could cost me everything. Not only with major decisions, but in small moments I let pass me by. It’s not that deciding to indulge in a one-night stand is a life-changing thing, but it could certainly change my night. The cost of not seeing if Connor would be down for it is that I’d never know what his mouth feels like, what he tastes like. I wouldn’t know the fun we could have, if our earlier interaction was any indication.

The cost of inaction would be not getting to see that look up close. It’s a cost I could afford, but dammit, I don’t want to.

“Whatever you do want, maybe you should start it.” I like the way he says that, with a weight of familiarity, like he knows me already. I like how he puts me in the driver’s seat, how he stills as I close the meager distance between us, my fingers wrapping around his wrist. I like the way the breath escapes from between his parted lips, soft and unsteady, as I draw his hand around to the small of my back. His palm fits against the valley of my spine, fingers digging into the dip at my waist.

“You gonna kiss me?” he whispers, his tone equal parts challenge and request.

I’m so used to thinking of the word careful in how it relates to the way I view the world, historically—with caution,

aware of every angle of risk. I never thought of it the way Connor means right now: to literally be full of care. To be thoughtful and attentive. Diligent. When he says it, his eyes on fire, it’s a good thing, not something I have to fix.

I imagine what careful could look like when my hands are on Connor’s body. When his body is inside mine. It’s so hot, so intensely what I want right now, that my skin flushes from my hairline down to my breasts, where he’s tracing the curve of one with the back of his knuckle.