Page 28 of The Virgin Playboy

“Can't relate. Boy, I'm a Leo. Things I'm good at, you're always gonna see me bragging about. Now things I'm bad at, you won't ever hear me talk about.” He smiled, pushing his slutty glasses up his nose as a reflex.

“Oh, now I have to know what you're bad at.” Resting my chin on my palm, I glanced towards the window to see we'd already reached Connecticut.

“Okay, so I'm not bad at it, but I'm also not the best cook. My folks raised me to be driven. Domestic, not so much. Also, as you can tell, I can drive, but I didn't learn how to drive until I was twenty-eight. And even now if it's not an automatic, I don't know what you want me to do with that.”

“I guess that’s why you made me drive,” he teased.

“The student must never question the methods of his teacher,” I rebutted. I knew I’d wanted to go a lot of places, and since it was a rental, figured it couldn’t hurt to take turns driving. “But living in Atlanta, I became accustom to driving, so when I don’t have to, I don’t.”

“Understandable being from New York. It’s the complete opposite for me, but I love the transit public transport system in the states. Where I lived, it’s a bit more rural, and if you missed that train or bus, good luck knowing when the next one was coming,” he joked, as the exit he took off the highway had my heart racing like I had made a mistake of getting in the passenger side with a serial killer.

“Um, what's wrong? Are we low on gas or something?” I asked, trying not to freak the fuck out, his smile cryptic until I got my answer.

“Okay, Jaq. Don't be mad, but I've been seeing the signs for the aquarium for miles now, and you have to understand, I love sea animals. Back home we have like, two in total across the whole island. Is it cool if we stop and check it out?” he pleaded with his big dark eyes, and suddenly I felt bad that I could ever accuse a being this precious, as someone who wanted to chop me up and put me in a trunk.

“Okay, fine. But if you're making a stop, I'm making a stop. There's no way we're driving past New Haven without stepping foot on my alma mater. The Yale campus is surrounded by everything in the city. I think that's what I loved about going there.”

“Deal,” he said, as for the next few hours we spent it in Mystic learning about beluga whales and sea lions. Before we knew it, we were back on the road again, and this time with a clear pit stop to New Haven.

“You know, just when I think you can’t get any cuter, watching you geek out over animals is going down as prized precious moment of the year.”

“Obviously I think all sea creatures should be free in their own habitat, but if they're going to exist, it's still relaxing to watch them swim. Interact with their schools. Living whatever normal life they can, have being raised in a tank. I think that's how it felt to be LDS sometimes, like I was limited to just one experience of the world. I can relate to that,” he confessed, which made it easier for me to lean into what I asked next.

“Okay, so you can decline to answer this if you want, because this one is pretty personal. But how did you navigate struggling with a porn addiction, and how long has it been since you… you know, indulged?” He took a deep sigh, raking his fingers through his hair.

“I don't mind answering. Part of taking away the stigma is talking about it, right?” he asked, my nod being his sign to continue.

“It was worse when I was practicing. I wouldn't say that I quit cold turkey per se, but a lot of the workings that fueled the addiction come from the suppressive nature of the church. The more I was shamed into thinking of premarital sex as wrong, the more I wanted to do it.

The more I wanted to experience it without breaking my vows to my faith. It's hard to admit that leaving the church absolved me of some of that guilt, and the furthest I was away from it, there was less to repress. As a result, porn began losing its appeal and hold on me. Therapy has helped with that too. Honestly, it was the distance and the ability to express myself without the confinement of what will people think that helped most. I told myself, if I could make it five years without it, I’d trust myself with a modern phone.”

“Wow, how long has it been?” His expression shriveled into a wince.

“I think I'm on my seventh year.” At that, my eyes widened.

“You are overdue. What are you waiting for?” He shrugged.

“I guess I've just gotten by without it. I don't need a flashy phone to ring back home,” he smirked, giving me an idea.

“Hey, while we make my stop, let me treat you to an upgrade. They've got an Apple store not far from the bagel shop I wanted to eat at. I think it's time for you to got a new phone.” I didn't know Graham’s financial situation, but chances are as a student he didn't exactly have the extra cash just to splurge on a new phone. Plus, he was my friend, and I just spent a weekend where my friend pretty much paid for everything. I could pay it forward for achieving such a huge accomplishment.

“No, I couldn't ask you to do that.”

“But I want to. You have to reward yourself when you hit a milestone that big. Plus, it's better when you buy it outright instead of paying through your phone company,” I suggested, but either he was proud or more fortunate than he let on, because he wasn't having it.

“How about a compromise? You can help me pick it out. I’m not versed on what features these newer phones have. So, if it were up to me, I’d just pick any of them just not to have to think about it. You pick it out, I pay for it. Is that a deal?” he asked, holding out his hand closest to me for me to shake.

“As long as you let me treat you to bagel sandwiches and Puerto Rican ice cream.” He laughed, putting some serious speed on the gas for the promise of Puerto Rican ice cream.

“Mind your business if you see me going over ninety on the highway.”

***

After a brief stop at the Apple Store, Graham was now the proud owner of an iPhone 18. He even let me pick out a case for him, as we later helped ourselves to bagel sandwiches and made our way up the street to finish off with plant-based ice cream. Graham did the honors of ordering in his fluent Spanish, opting for the goat and guava, as I went for the old-fashioned old faithful coquito. Making our way to the downtown green, we enjoyed our ice cream on benches overlooking a memorial flagpole with an active water fountain. It wasn't a bad way to waste a day.

“This is really good. Here, try mine,” he beamed, sharing a spoonful of his creamy flavor with me. Damn, I should have gotten that one.

“You know, I know we're supposed to be getting back on the road soon, but I was wondering if you wanted to get a hotel or something and pick off where we left off in the morning. I think I’m just beat from doing all this driving. I could use a recharge.” Bringing a playful spoonful to my mouth, I cut my eyes at him, pointing to him with my now empty spoon.