It barrels out of me before I can catch it. “Are you…a virgin?”
He grins in this sweet, amused kinda way.
I feel like I’m being so awkward and messing this up somehow. I don’t know what’s happening or what the right things are to say.
“No,” he says. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with being one,” he lets out a little laugh. “But no. I—I used to use sex to cope a lot. And I didn’t want to do that anymore. When I got sober, I promised myself—and then God—that I’d wait. Until it’s…not a mask. Until it’s within a promise I can keep. When it can be saved for someone special.”
Pieces click in my head that I didn’t know were loose. His faith has never been something he beat me with or thrown in my face. It’s actually always been something that makes his edges that much kinder. Something we’ve talked about here and there, but never in an obvious ‘I’m better than other people because I believe in God’ kinda way. I’ve already respected him, and respected him as a person even more for that faith. Something I’ve always wished I could have. Something I know nothing about, really.
This strange relief washes over me. Like, my brain is just now catching up that I wasn’t even ready for that. That I would have regretted crossing that line. That I was just trying to prove something to myself, prove that I was wanted. That was the only way I’ve known to feel validated. I automatically wanted to give him something Iassumedwas what he wanted.
I think he sees my thoughts spiraling, because he places his hands back on my arms to pull my attention to him. His face goes soft in that way that makes me want to cry because I feel seen. “You don’t have to give me anything to be wanted,” he says. “You already are. I like you. More than the idea of you. More than what you can give me. I want this to be—” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “safe, and honest, and not something we wake up from and hate ourselves for.”
My eyes sting, and I juststare at the brick wall so I don’t drown in what he’s saying. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit.
“Me either,” he replies with a smile. “We can figure it out together.”
I’m quiet for a while, too emotional to speak.
He sees the anxious wheels still turning in my head and gently cups my face, with his thumbs resting on my cheeks.
“You don’t have to overthink this,” he says. “We can talk about it any time. We can go as slow as you need. I like you, Lydia. A lot.” He emphasizes it like he’s putting a stake in the ground with me. “Nothing you do or don’t do, or say or don’t say tonight changes that. You don’t have to pretend to be fine for me. You do whatever feels right for you, and I’ll match your pace while keeping my own boundaries.”
Something undoes so deeply inside of me that I didn’t know was wound up and afraid. “Okay,” I breathe.
“Okay,” he quietly echoes.
He places his forehead to mine for a moment, then he lightly kisses my forehead. It’s a gentle kiss that feels more intimate than some grand, passionate kiss on screen in a movie. He pulls away, slides his hands down my arms to my fingers, gives them a little squeeze, and then lets go.
“Text me when you’re inside,” he says.
“I will.”
Before I enter the building, I turn back and look at him again.
“Goodnight, Bash.”
“Goodnight, Lyd.”
Simone’s text comes in before I even make it to our floor:
Simone: You home? Do I need to read you a bedtime story on FaceTime?
I type back, smiling.
Lydia: No story needed. I have a forehead kiss
Simone: JENNIFER LAWRENCE VOICE: WHAT. DO. YOU. MEAN?
I laugh and don’t answer, because some things I want to keep on the inside and be selfish with holding for a moment.
I sit on my bed in the dark, still wrapped up in his jacket, and let the feelings sort themselves without auditioning for a doomsday play. Then I text him like I said I would.
Lydia: In. Thank you for walking me…and everything after
Three dots appear.
Bash: Any time. Sleep well, Lyd
