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“Ooh, someone used Google.” It’s a childish retort but… Hello, it's me. I take my plate and sit at the kitchen table, putting some distance between us.
“I’m serious.” Noah follows me. “I think I’m only attracted to people I feel connected to.”
“And you think you’re connected to me? Me, not my cock? I’d understand if you were confused, especially since you’ve been working through some stuff. We should probably make sure though.” I stand to unbutton my pants.
“Do not show me your dick right now. A hard-on doesn’t solve everything.”
“That didn’t even cross my mind.” It totally crossed my mind.
“So, what’s that then?” He points to my crotch. “Checking to make sure your zipper works?”
“I had to readjust.” I drop back into my chair and pretend I wasn’t trying to avoid this conversation with sex. “Okay, I can see how you’d feel connected to me after I took care of you, but I could get you going even before that. That’s not demi.”
“Not true. I’ve always found it easy to talk to you. To be myself. I think because you’re so unapologetically…you.” Noah waves his hand over me from head to toe. “You made me comfortable enough to be me.”
Okay, that’s actually sweet, but still scary since I don’t do sweet.
“What are you saying?”
“I like you. A lot.”
“Cool.” I spear a piece of chicken and shove it in my mouth. “I like you too.”
“No, I mean I like you. As in I want to be with you. Preferably as more than just two friends who fuck each other.”
“Like boyfriends?” I feel my eyes grow wide with panic.
“I mean, yeah.” Noah shrugs bashfully, which is adorable, but not cool.
“Okay. Um…” I scratch my neck.
Then my arm.
Then my side.
Obviously, this is a deal-breaker, but I don’t want to hurt the guy, so I have to let him down easy. But that means no more mind-blowing sex. No more sleepovers, either, which I will only admit to myself this one time that I sort of like. Still, cold turkey is the way to go. Clean slate. Full stop.
Is it hot in here?
“What’s wrong?” Noah’s brows draw together in gentle concern as he reaches for my arm.
I pull it away to scratch my neck again. “I feel itchy.”
“Are you having an allergic reaction?”
“Maybe?”
“Did you eat something weird? Or touch something weird?”
I scratch at my forearm when he reaches for it again. “No. I… Can you stand over there?” I point to the far side of the room.
“Where?” He twists to look behind him.
“Just…there. Back. And stop looking at me like you like me.”
“I do like you.”
“Yes, but don’t look at me like you do. Look at me like I’m just a piece of ass.”
