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First, that moment with Dean when he told me to kneel—and I did.
Then, later that night, in bed with Caleb.
I needed that. No,weneeded that. Sex without purpose other than intimacy and pleasure. When was the last time we did that? Months? Years? I nearly forgot how good it can be. Our sex life used to be fun, back when I felt like someone he couldn’t resist. Back when my body felt like my own.
I still don’t understand what happened with Dean, though. It wasn’t about attraction or sex, but something acute and powerful happened to me when I looked up at him from the floor. I felt so cherished. Like all of his attention was hyperfocused on me.
I haven’t felt that way since college. Since Caleb and I first met, I knew that he wanted me. It was his attention I fell in love with first. The way his eyes would always find me. The way he made it seem like even when my boyfriend was there, Caleb and I were the only two people in the room.
From there, I fell in love with Caleb. His kindness, his humor, and his confidence. I felt so safe with him, and I knew from our very first kiss that I could spend the rest of my life comfortable and happy in his arms. Like he carved out a space just for me.
Being with Dean reminds me of those days. Like Dean sees me, too.
After my hair is curled and my makeup is applied, I slip on a pair of comfortable sneakers and throw my purse over my shoulder. Abby is with Caleb’s mother, so I have the whole day to myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to just go where I want when I want, and I have the perfect day planned.
“Where are you off to?” a deep voice calls when I walk out of the house with my keys in hand. I spin around to find Dean coming down the stairs. He’s dressed like he’s going somewhere too. In tight black pants and a dark-green polo that hugs his muscled arms, it’s incredibly distracting.
“Headed to the art museum in the city,” I reply cheerfully. “There’s a traveling exhibit from Lyon there this month, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Art museum?” he replies with interest.
“Yeah, I know that seems weird…”
“Doesn’t seem weird at all,” he says, cutting me off. “Sounds lovely.”
Holding my hand on my forehead to block the sun, I squint up at him as the words just slip through my lips. “Do you wanna come?”
For a moment, he appears surprised by the invite. “I don’t want to crash your relaxing day.”
“You wouldn’t be crashing it,” I reply. “If you let me show you everything I love there and talk about art for a couple of hours, I think I’d enjoy it even more.”
This makes him smile, and the way his eyes light up makes my stomach flutter. Then he takes a step toward me, and when he turns his gaze back up to my face, I feel my skin flush with heat.
“I would love to hear you talk about something you love. Anyone who turns that down is insane,” he says coolly. “I’ll drive.”
I have to force myself to swallow. “Okay then.”
Dean climbs into his car, which is a sleek black BMW sedan. It smells like fresh leather and cologne on the inside, making my mouth water immediately as I sit down. The drive into the city is about forty-five minutes, and we spend the entire time avoiding anything awkward, like whatever the hell happened last night.
Instead, he tells me about his father and growing up in the city. I tell him about my family and college.
“I remember you a little bit,” he says with one hand gripping the steering wheel. “But you and Caleb were just friends back then, right?”
“Um…” My voice trails. Most of the time, when people ask how Caleb and I met, I just tell them we met in college. It’s a classic story of cheerleader meets star quarterback. I usually include how whenever he was on the field, I was constantly watching him, and whenever he ran to the bench, his eyes would find me on the sidelines.
Those things are all true. The part about me dating the captain of the team at the same time is purposefully omitted.
Usually.
“I was dating his teammate in college,” I say as I stare out the window.
“His teammate?” Dean asks, sounding surprised.
“Yeah,” I confess. There’s no excuse or sweet way to frame the story in our favor.
“You broke up with that guy for Caleb?” Dean asks.
“Eventually,” I say.
