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The best part about going to a nightclub is when you finally get to leave.
The problem with being a chronic people-pleaser who hates conflict is that life is nothing but constant conflict.
Intimate relationships are, as my therapist Zeina loves to say, a constant negotiation of boundaries. But when you’re scared to set those boundaries, you can’t have intimate relationships. Not without bending over so far it’s practically a yoga pose.
I walk past her and pull open the door to her car. The idea of her with other guys, other dates, makes the smile die on my lips. But I just gesture for her to enter the car. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, and slides into the darkness of the car. Because it should be a yes, even if I feel like it’s a hell no.
Her teeth dig into her full lower lip, and heat shoots through me at the sight. There’s something unexpected in her beauty, something unique. It hits you right beneath the breastbone. She’s not someone you look at and forget.
“If you’re pretending to be my girlfriend, you’re only dating me.” I press my hands flat against the table. “So if you want to practice? You’ll practice with me.”
He’s pushing the limits. He’s pushing my limits. Irritation slithers down my spine. Irritation at him for correctly reading the situation so quickly. He identified one of my core fears within one lesson. I’m terrified of making people upset. I’m a people-pleaser to my core, with everyone but him. And he’s challenging that.
“Good,” I tell her. “That was really good.” A smile flashes over her lips. She likes these kinds of compliments, I’ve noticed. Maybe not the ones that make her feel ogled or like an object. She’s had enough of those. But she loves being praised. Good thing I fucking love praising her.
“That was magnificent,” I tell her honestly. “And now? What would you do?” “Run. You know I’m fast.” She’s still grinning. “Yes, you are. You’ll run and you’ll call for help. You’ll call me.” “And you’ll come?” I push up the sleeve of my shirt. “Always.”
“You should have let me pay for all of this.” “What? No. This is my collection.” “And you’re my girlfriend.” “Fake girlfriend.” “Fake or real, you’re mine,” I say. The words feel better than they should. “Take my card next time.”
And from what you told me, I’m guessing you’ve been kissed. You haven’t kissed someone. Is that true?” She sways closer, just an inch. Nods once. “Then this is all you.” I tilt her head up. “You decide, Nora. You decide when, how long, in what way. You don’t think about me. Okay?” Because I’m going to enjoy this regardless of what she does. Because I’m going to hell, but I need to make sure that this is about her.
“I can… kiss you?” she asks. Her voice vibrates, half excitement and half nerves. But her deep green eyes don’t stray from mine. “Yes.” It’s all I can do not to add please.
“Thanks. That’s generous.” He chuckles. The sound is warm. “Don’t thank me too much. It’s not a hardship.” “It’s not?” “No.” His face transforms when he’s smiling. Comes alive, becomes almost hard to look at. “It’s not hard to kiss you.” Oh.
“How come you’ve always been able to see through it?” “You’re not the only one who’s perceptive,” I say. And because I’ve looked far, far too much at her over the years. And once I saw the real her, it was the only version I wanted.
I’m jealous of men she hasn’t met yet. Irrationally, desperately jealous. And furious at all the ways they’ll fail to deserve her.
“Is that how you do it, then? Sex?” Her cheeks flush. “It’s all trust-based?” “Yes.” It would be with you, I think. Earning your trust and getting to touch you would be a fucking privilege.
She smiles beneath my thumb, and I’m lost. Maybe I always was. But this is the moment I know it, wholly and completely. There’s no recovering from her.
She said she’d never liked kissing a man before me. I’ll wear that compliment as a badge of honor until I die.
slide my arm under her and hold her as she comes. “Look at you,” I say, because I can’t stop, because I’ll never forget this. Because it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.
“You’re warm.” “It’s not every day I’m complimented on my homeostasis.” She laughs. Her leg finds its way over mine, and she burrows against me. Like I’m a pillow. The luckiest damn pillow in the world.
For all of our talk, I rarely share a bed with anyone either. It’s easier to be alone. It always has been. I’ve been afraid of ruining her, but here she is, ruining me. Lesson by lesson and day by day.
He was wrong, before. But he was also right. Because in the end, I did do it with someone I love.
