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“And if touching is the whole problem,” I say, “we can figure out a different way to do this. Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll listen. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
I give his hands a little squeeze. “The first lesson isn’t even a kiss. It’s just this. Getting used to someone else in your space. You good?”
Quinn stares at our fingers as if they’re an equation that is finally making sense.
“I’m good,” he whispers.
I smile. “Touch is important with foreplay. I mean I guess you could have mental foreplay if you find the right person. But I imagine someday you’ll find someone that you want to be physical with. Most demi-sexual people do.”
“Demi-sexual?” he repeats, as though he’s never heard the term before.
“Yeah. That’s what you are, right? I mean I’m not assuming…I just thought…” I trail off, feeling like I’ve put my foot in my mouth. Shit, that’s the first rule in the queer community, don’t assume. “Shit. Sorry.”
“What’s that mean?”
I blink. He’s serious. I open my mouth and then close it. “Uh…”
“Is it…is it bad?”
“Bad?” I sputter. It comes out loud, and I dial it back. “No. Not even a little. It just means that to feel sexual attraction to someone you have to know them. And care about them or feel close to them. Which could be why the thought of a one-night stand sounds boring to you.”
Quinn stares at me.
I can see him adding it up in his head.
“Oh,” he says.
That’s it. Oh. His thumb moves against my hands, a tiny movement, like he’s testing that I’m still touching him.
“And that’s…a real thing.”
“Yeah. It’s a real thing. Plenty of people fall into that category. Some don’t label themselves, some do. You just don’t run on the same fuel as some people.”
His mouth twitches into a half smile.
“The point is, if that sounds like you, it makes sense. If it’s not, you can throw it out. You don’t have to label yourself.”
Quinn looks down at our hands again.
“I think it might be me,” he says, very quiet. “I didn’t have a name for it.”
Something in my chest goes tight, and my stomach flips. “Now you do.” I squeeze his fingers once, but don’t let go. “We can still stop.”
He shakes his head. “I still want to learn.”
THIRTEEN
QUINN
I’m warm. I don’t know why I’m so warm. Maybe it’s because my fingers are still in Daniel’s, or maybe it’s because I finally have a name for what I am. And I can research it later to see if it fits.
I’m good at research.
But at the moment, I’m distracted by the green in his eyes. Or the way they sparkle when he’s happy about something. Or the fact I like the feel of him touching me. His hands are a little rough against my softer ones, but it feels good.
Making a split second decision, I lean forward and press my lips to his. He gasps in surprise, and I take that as an opening to put my tongue in his mouth. He tastes like peppermint.
