Ejiro wanted to drop her hand and take a step back, but this was already excruciating enough without it looking like he was dumping her on reality TV, so he stayed put where he was.
He was breathing too fast. He felt a little lightheaded. Where the fuck was New Ejiro and his seemingly endless bouts of confidence and bravery when Old Ejiro needed him?
He looked away, at the reflection of gold on the surface of the water below them.
Do it, he told himself, his inner voice sounding suspiciously like Obiora. Just tell her.
He swallowed again. “Remember when you kissed me? On our last date?”
“Yeah.” She giggled, her voice still low, seductive.
“Well”—oh fuck, oh God—“Well, I didn’t actually want to be kissed.” There. It was done. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Sophia stared at him. Slowly, she detangled their hands. She looked horrified.
Instantly, Ejiro felt sick to his stomach. He felt like he was going to throw up. “It’s not you,” he began desperately, “you’re lovely; you’re great, actually. I just—I’m—I think I’m—” Demisexual. The word hooked in his throat. Refused to come out. Why had it been the easiest thing to admit it to Obiora, but not to her? “I just like to take things slow,” he amended, knowing it probably sounded weak, a ridiculous defence, but it was all he had. “I wasn’t ready, and—”
“But you kissed me back,” she said, almost desperately.
Ejiro winced. He couldn’t look at her. “I-I felt pressured. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Jesus, Ejiro, I’m so sorry.”
“Oh,” Ejiro said, surprised that she’d apologised.
“Ejiro,” she said, anguished, once more taking his hands in hers, encouraging him to face her. “I’m sorry. I would never want to do anything someone doesn’t want—or, or to make anyone feel pressured. And that I did—it’s inexcusable. I really like you, Ejiro. And I assumed you were just shy, that you might want me to take the lead—but I was wrong, obviously. And arrogant. I shouldn’t have assumed something like that. I’m really sorry, Ejiro. Do you—shall we head back?”
“Right. Yeah. Okay.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “Okay?” She looked so distressed, but she was trying to hide it, probably so he wouldn’t feel coerced.
This time he genuinely relaxed. “Yes. Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
The walk back was silent and a bit strained. The cameras felt oppressive around them, and Ejiro tried to ignore their presence with difficulty. He wished this conversation didn’t have to happen on camera. Even if Ameri had talked about wanting it to be all “real” and “natural”, there was still something voyeuristic about it all.
Ejiro walked Sophia up to her door. She immediately took a step away, giving him space.
“God, Ejiro, I’m so sorry. How are you feeling? Are you upset with me?” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
To be honest, Ejiro had been expecting her to get defensive, to even blame him for saying anything—it’s what Sam would have done—so her apologising and accepting that she’d fucked up? It was everything.
“No,” he said, smiling a little. “I’m not mad.”
“All right.” She looked nervous, off kilter. “Um. Can I have a hug? Only if you’re comfortable.”
“A hug sounds nice.” Ejiro held out his arms.
She walked into his embrace, hugging him tightly. They stood there for a few moments, just holding each other. It felt … nice. Good. Lovely. But just … nice. Like hugging Ajiri.
Sophia pulled away eventually. “I’m so sorry. Are we going to be okay? Is there anything I can do to fix this?”
“Everything’s fine.” Ejiro was quick to reassure her. “I promise. I honestly just wanted you to listen.”
“Of course.” She nodded, smiling tentatively. “Thank you for telling me. And I’m sorry again.”
They said their goodnights. Some of the cameras split, some following after Sophia, the others trailing after Ejiro as he headed back to the house.
