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“I am just cutting it up,” I say. He’s said this to me before, but I’m not sure why he wouldn’t want it done perfectly since it’s about the only thing I can do when it comes to cooking.
“Here, look,” Rex says, easing the knife from my hand but keeping his arms around me. Hmm, it really shouldn’t be so hot to have Rex around me with a knife….
In a few easy, practiced movements he takes the pear apart. He knows exactly how deep to cut to miss the core, just how much force it takes to rend the flesh. It’s effortless.
Everything seems this effortless for him. He just has this way with objects, like, at his touch, the world becomes manageable, falling into place to be taken apart or put back together at his will.
“Got it,” I say, my throat suddenly thick with something like jealousy at Rex’s ease. Except I know it’s not that simple. Hell, I know just how uncomfortable he often is because of his shyness, his dyslexia. I still can’t help but feel like a major failure for not noticing his dyslexia earlier.
He puts the knife down and picks up a bit of pear, holding it up for me. I eat it from his hand, then kiss him, knowing he can taste it on my tongue.
“I know you think you have to be perfect at work. Out there,” he says, gesturing with his shoulder while keeping both hands on the counter, trapping me against his body. “But you don’t have to try so hard here. Not with me.”
I open my mouth to protest. But… is that what I’m doing? I never thought about it like that. I suppose I have been… on my best behavior around Rex. But that’s just because I don’t want to scare him off. I look down at Rex’s big feet, unsure of what to say.
“I just meant, you don’t have to think so much about everything you do.”
Yeah, I’ve heard that before. I challenge you to find someone who went to grad school who hasn’t.
“You know, it’s not actually that easy to just change the way you think.” It comes out a little more bitter than I meant it to.
“Daniel.” He cups my chin and forces me to look at him. “I get it. The self-consciousness? Believe me.” He huffs out a breath. “But I’ve seen you try so hard to figure out what someone was thinking about you that your eyes about crossed. You’re thinking about things all the time. How people react to you. If they misinterpreted what you said, understood your joke. You’re so used to feeling like you don’t fit in that you’re always trying to be one step ahead. Figure out which Daniel’s called for in the situation. But….”
He trails off, stroking my hair like he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.
“But?” I prompt.
“But you can’t read people’s minds, baby. You can’t always figure out what’s gonna happen just by being smart. And even if you could—” He shakes his head. “—you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to try so hard to fit in because you’re scared.”
I tense, but Rex’s hand is still gentle in my hair.
“I know, I know, you’re never scared, right?” He gives me an unreadable smirk. Amused? Doubtful? Indulgent? “Just, people are gonna like you or they aren’t. There’s no sense in trying to change how you act to suit them. It’ll just drive you crazy.”
I open my mouth to say something, to insist that I don’t do that. But then Rex is kissing me, holding me in place with his soft hands and his hard body, until all I can think about is how damn good he smells and how amazing he feels.
“I like you, Daniel. Just you. I like you so much.” Rex’s voice is low and sincere and I can feel in his kiss how much he means it. It makes me feel… treasured. Appreciated in a way I don’t recognize. “And I want to keep getting to know you. The real you. Okay?”
“I… like you too. A lot.” Jeez, and the award for Understatement of the Century goes to…. But he’s right. I love getting to learn all the strange little things that make Rex Rex. I may have been on my best behavior with him, but I’ve also been more relaxed when I’m around him than I can ever remember being with anyone but Ginger.
“Like, you know that feeling,” I try to explain, “where it’s Sunday night and you have school or work the next morning but then it’s a snow day and you don’t have to go in? You feel like that.”
“I feel like a natural disaster?” he teases, but his gaze is intent.
“No,” I say, forcing myself to say what I mean. “A relief. You feel like a huge relief.”
