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Allie's face remains impassive.
I try again. "What you did with the others, wasn't it powerful? You could feel the energy of it, right?"
Her hand trails over my chest, her expression becoming thoughtful. "I feel the energy," she says. "But I'm conflicted. These things I want...they're not straightforward. It's all just a present tense experience, but when we're done, the same future stretches out in front of me."
I nod. "I understand that. And the future that’s stretching out isn't the one you want...the one that will leave you feeling fulfilled?"
"I'm always too afraid to take the leap."
"What if you weren't afraid anymore? What would you do?"
"I’d change my career. I'd stop talking to my parents about my life. I'd write what makes my heart feel full."
"What about your personal life? What are you looking for there?"
"To be happy with someone," she says quickly. "To be with someone who will grow as I grow."
"Someone?"
The question hangs between us, and Allie rolls onto her back, eyes fixed to the ceiling as she contemplates an answer. "My friend found ninesomeones. Natalie, from next door, found three."
"What would make you happy? If there were no outside expectations or self-imposed barriers. What would you choose?"
She turns her head, staring at me across the pillow. "I'd stay here with you guys. I'd make a life here. I'd be content in this place."
Her admission is heartfelt. I'm not a great reader of women, but I can tell that much. It's in the slight shrug of her shoulder, and the downward curl of her lips. She’s embarrassed by the truth and she’s trying to brush off the strength of her feelings. The little sigh she expels after reveals something too. Confessing has lifted a weight from her shoulders. She feels relief but I feel panic because all I want to do is make this sweet girl happy, but how can I when I have no control over what happens next?
She's not saying she wants me. She’s saying she'd stay in this place with the ten of us. We're a package deal and without the agreement of the others, I don't believe she'd just want me. How could I ever be enough as one tenth of her perfect outcome?
My fingers curl against my palm, and my calves scream to move. If I was alone, I'd pace the hallway, physically working out my frustration and anxiety, but Allie's next to me and I'm not going to leave her to act like a crazy person who's not in control of their own emotions.
So I lay still, focusing on my breathing as Allie touches my cheek.
"You guys have shown me what it's like to be desired. What it's like to be craved. You've all shown me how men should treat a woman. You've helped me get in touch with my inner wants and needs. I don't think I'm ever going to stop being grateful for these past few days. And I still have my time with you to come..."
Allie leaves that part hanging between us like I'm not an addict for her already. Like I wouldn't be prepared to do everything in my power to give her everything she needs.
"But what about you, Russell? What about your life? I see you on the edges of this group like you're wearing a concrete overcoat and dragging a ball and chain. What do you want?"
I focus on the window, the only place in the room that doesn't make me feel like the walls are closing in. What do I want? To feel like the man I used to be before I saw too much and did too much. To wipe out years of my history with a whiteboard eraser so I can imagine being happy again and feel like I deserve even a tiny scrap of joy. To have someone as sweet and pure and genuine in my life as Allie and not worry that I'd drag her down into the black hole I'm in without ever meaning to.
I could be good for her, in this group, with nine other men to fill all the gaps. I wouldn't need to be funny because Jonas and Jimmy have that part covered. I wouldn't need to be dominant like Theron and Carson, or sophisticated like Oliver and Stefan. I wouldn't need to wear my heart on my sleeve like Tom and Gabe or be a peacemaker like Clay. I could just be me, and in time, maybe I could find my way back to the me I was before.
"I could want what you want," I say. "I could make a life here."
The truth hangs between us, a naked admission that both of us would be unprepared to reveal to the others.
It's a heavy truth because I can't see how either of us will get what we want.
Allie's hand smooths over my shoulder and down the side of my arm, and it feels like reassurance, but it hurts like pity.
"I can't fuck you," I blurt, desperate to shove the emotional conversation far, far away. "But I can make you come, if that's what you need. I can make you feel good and push all of this stuff out of your mind so you can sleep."
It's not a polished romantic offer. Stefan could have come up with something much more articulate. It's not fun or flirty like Jonas, or sweet and understanding like Tom. It's a fumbling and raw offer, but she takes it anyway.
It's her hand that guides mine between her legs where she's warm, soft and just a little slick. Not turned on yet, but ready to get that way. I could stroke her clit and turn that slickness into something more, but something takes over me. Something primal.
Getting inside her is suddenly my only focus and if I can't do it with my cock, my fingers will have to be enough. I push one finger deep into her tight little hole until I'm in up to the knuckle and her legs drop open for more. "That feel good?"I ask, pressing against the little bundle of nerves I know will make her eyes roll. When they do, I’m swamped by a rush of addictive power that sends heat raging between my thighs. I add another finger and pump deep, and Allie arches her back until her face is to the headboard and her throat is a long, elegant arch.
