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I’m not falling in love…am I?
No, no, I’m not, but what I am doing is making sure he understands that even though he has control over my body when we are skin-to-skin, it doesn’t mean I have no self-respect.
If he wants unlimited access to me, he has to respect me and treat me like more than just something to fuck. When the truck doesn’t move, I glance over at him, and he’s looking out the window, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel.
“Theo.” I remind him that I want to go with my strict tone, and he slams his hand on the steering wheel.
“Damn it!” he barks, and I jump. “You make me crazy. I just want to get inside you. Get lost in you. And you thinking I don’t respect you is the furthest thing from the truth. I always respect the women I go into these arrangements with, but I don’t show up at every place they’re at so I can take them back home with me. Yet here we are. Don’t say I don’t respect you, Hanna. That’s anything but the truth.”
Shaking my head, I look out the window. “I wish I could believe that, Theo, but I don’t even know you. So how do I know you’re being sincere?” Honestly.
“You do know me.”
“No! All I know is that you like to have control, you are good in bed, and that you are borderline psychotic.”
He cracks up then, laughing. It pisses me off, but I can’t help but smile begrudgingly when he won’t stop.
“What? It’s not funny. It’s true.”
“You think I’m good in bed, huh?”
“You’re so glib. And annoying.” I tighten my arms across my chest. Seriously irritated with him.
“Fine. I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s fair to get to know one another. What do you want to know then?” He puts the car in drive and slowly merges back onto the highway. I’m stunned. Here I am saying I want to get to know him, and yet I’m stumped on what to ask.
“Why do I want to ask you your favorite color? That is so stupid.” I chuckle, and he smiles.
“It’s a good start. Green.”
“Hmm. I would have thought blue.”
“Why is that?” he questions.
“You are always wearing it.”
“You always wear black. Is that your favorite color?” he counters.
“No, but it makes my body look somewhat thinner.”
“I’ll address that comment later,” he grumbles. “This is for you. What else?”
I hope he forgets what I said. I don’t like to talk about my insecurities. I wear them loud enough as it is. “Brenda seems close with you guys’ parents. Are you as close?”
“Not as close but not estranged. I’ve never been one who’s overly affectionate or clings to any type of relationship.”
I snort. “Sorry.” I cover my mouth. How rude can I be? Asking him to open up, then laughing when he does.
“What’s so funny?” he asks me.
“Nothing. It’s obvious you don’t like to have any relationship. I mean, look at us. Is there a reason?” Understanding that this could be too personal and I’m likely to be shut down, I still go for it.
“Nope. I just never felt the need or desire to have close relationships.” He shrugs.
“It must be lonely. I would know,” I whisper.
“Not at all. At least for me it’s not. There is peace in silence and being comfortable alone.”
That comment isn’t meant to be offensive, but for me, it is.
“I grew up alone and found no peace at all. It was the loneliest, darkest part of my life.” I bare my vulnerability almost too freely now. Maybe it’s because I have nothing to hide from anymore. I’m making friends, creating the life I wished for, so baring the wounds seems inevitable. I feel safe for the first time in my life.
What does that say about the life I led up to this? My most confusing time, in a new place I don’t know, making friends, and having an intense sexual relationship with a man I thought would never give me one glance, let alone two. Amidst all that, I feel…safe.
“Your circumstances were different, and for that, Hanna, I am truly sorry.” He reaches over and grabs my hand. “I always knew if I needed someone to lean on, I had it, so being alone wasn’t as scary. You didn’t. I’m sorry. Really. The people who hurt you, they didn’t deserve you.”
The tears start coming, and I want to suck them back up. But for someone to show me care, to show empathy for a past I had no control over, it’s hard to not feel the emotions, and truthfully, I don’t want to.
“Can we not do this…please? Can we focus on you?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Respecting my boundaries, he changes the subject. “What else do you want to know, baby?”
“How about your friends? Do you have a lot back in New York?” He turns down the road I haven’t seen before, and it dawns on me he said he is taking me to his house.
