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Troy:Then what’s the problem?
What is the problem? This isn’t eventhatpersonal of a question. I mean, in terms of sex maybe, but it’s not like he hasn’t seen me completely naked and had his mouth somewhere no one else has. Why does using my words seem so much more difficult than letting him use my body? Mack and Maci are the only ones who have trusted me with their personal thoughts, and one of them is in the room with me.
“Mack.”
He snaps his head up from where he’s sitting on the floor leaned against the couch by my feet. “What’s up?”
“Why do you tell me all your secrets?”
He laughs. “Umm, is this a trick question?”
“No.” I’m dead serious. “How do you choose who to trust?”
He shrugs. “You get me. You’re always honest even if I don’t want to hear it, but it’s only because you care.”
“It’s the same with Maci?”
“Kind of. I trust you both, but I guess I tell her stuff because I want her to know who I am better than anyone and love me for that.”
“Aren’t you worried she’ll learn something she doesn’t like.”
“You mean like how I used to do drugs and thought she’d be better off not knowing?” He looks dead in my eyes like that statement alone should prove his point. “What’s going on? You aren’t shy when it comes to your thoughts.”
“Oh, yeah. It’s just weird, I guess. Usually I don’t care what the other person thinks.”
“If they are someone you should keep around then nothing you tell them will scare them away.”
When he realizes I don’t have a response, he goes back to working on his song, and I pull up my text thread again.
Me:No one has ever asked me that before.
Troy:I mean, you are easy to read.He adds a wink emoji, thinking he’s joking but not realizing the reality of that statement.
Me:I think that’s just you.
Troy:What do you mean?
Me:Kind of feels like you’re in my head when we’re in bed. Like you know what I want.
Troy:I feel the same, but about you.
Me:Is that normal?
Troy:Not to this extent. At least not from my experience. Must be the chemistry.
Is that really the explanation? But also, Troy is the only guy I’ve been with more than once, and he has the perception skills of a bartender, so he probably just picked up on cues or something. That elevator kiss, orgasm, whatever the fuck you want to call it though, it’s like he’s been reading my mind since that moment. I ignore his incessant use ofthatword and give him credit where it’s due.
Me:Your tongue is magic.
Troy:Better than your vibrator?
Me:It’s currently mad at me for being shoved into my nightstand, temporarily out of commission for underperformance.
Troy:It better get used to being there.
Me:Why do you like me?I know it sounds a little self deprecating, but I’m genuinely curious. No one has ever taken the time to get to know me before in a dating sort of way, even if it’s only in the bedroom. I notice the typing bubbles pop up and go away a couple times again.
Troy:In bed or…
