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Louisa was not shy at all, and when you can tell an attractive woman wants to hop on your dick, it is incredibly difficult not to think about it all the time.

I was weak, so I thought about it all the time.

The thought of seeing her in person was anxiety-producing and exciting at the same time. What would happen when I could touch her and smell her and watch her body move in the same space as mine? Could I keep my promise to my friend, my dad, myself?

I wish Hasan told me not to talk to her at all. That might have been easier.

7

Snaggleteeth & Shirtstays

The Bronx, NY

Louisa

“I told you my shit last week! It’s your turn,” Will said. He was lying back on his pillow with one arm behind his head and Hasan’s laptop on his chest.

“I have zero shit, Will.”

“You’re full of shit, Louisa,” he laughed.

Hasan confirmed he wasn’t my boyfriend. But apparently, he’d also broken the cardinal rule of our best friendship and told Will I’d never had one. Like that was throwaway information. I’ve always been a vault about his relationships, but he blabbed first chance he got, and now Will was on a mission to find out what was broken about me. As punishment for his betrayal, I was giving Has the silent treatment. He needed to see me talking to Will, though. He needed to feel the silence.

“What’s the weirdest thing you find attractive?” I asked Will. He gave me a look—he knew I was changing the subject.

“The sexiest chick I ever dated had a snaggletooth, and I still get a hard-on when I see one in the wild.”

“Oh my god, I have a snaggletooth!” I cried.

He bit his bottom lip, and his eyebrows danced suggestively. “Stop trying to distract me with your sexy teeth, Louisa.”

I curled my upper lip with my front teeth over my bottom one like a rabbit and crossed my eyes. He closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn’t going to let me out of it.

“Quit stalling. I’m an unbelievably patient man when I want something,” he said, eyes still shut.

I rolled mine since he couldn’t see me. I’d explained this to guys dozens of times, and their reactions almost always made me hate them a little. I was not eager to hear Will mansplain my feelings. I liked him and wanted to keep liking him. But I also wanted him to know me. To know this thing about me and see if he still liked me after.

I didn’t know why. He didn’t have to like me to fuck me.

“I’m not sure how to explain it.” I paused to think. I started shaking up a bottle of nail polish and blew the hair out of my face. “I guess I’m just not the type, Will.”

“Whose type?”

“No one’s for long. I don’t care about dating or romance at all. It gives me the ick. I’m not interested in getting married or falling in love.”

I tried to explain it with concrete examples.

I never plotted to get someone to notice me like my girlfriends did. Never felt wistful during romantic movie scenes. Never craved someone specifically or wanted to hold their hand. I’d never felt jealous or possessive over a man or woman.

Will was listening without looking at me as if he knew it’d make me uncomfortable.

I brushed sparkly purple polish on a fingernail. “I’m all for casual sex and platonic intimacy. I’m just not romantic.”

He paused before he spoke. “You know, I never really had to decide whether romance was something I wanted or not. Sort of like knowing I’m straight, it was just true before I can remember,” he said thoughtfully. “I never considered what it’d be like to not feel that way. Is it hard?”

His eyes were still closed, but I’d never felt so seen.

“Not yet, no. I talked to Vivian about it a lot when I was younger.” I blew on my nails to dry them. “I adore men and women. I like being friends with some and fucking others, occasionally both at the same time, but I guess I don’t have whatever connector or switch that makes a person want more than that.”