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But I just can’t bring myself to say the words.
I want to be with someone who knows what he’s doing. Someone who can make me feel good. Someone I’m attracted to, at least physically. And I know Hunter is all those things. I know he’ll make me enjoy it.
I know he’ll give me the orgasm that’s alluded me.
But he’s still him. The guy who’s been a jerk to me all my life, and to whom I’ve always been a jerk right back.
If eighteen-year-old me knew that I was even considering having sex with Hunter Landry, she’d be so disappointed she wouldn’t know what to say.
Then again, if eighteen-year-old me knew a lot about the current state of my life, she’d be disappointed …
Darn it, no. I’m not going to let myself be pulled into the quicksand of negative self-talk and regrets today.
I ended up posting the video of me skating last week onto TikTok. I just edited it to include my introduction, some clips of my skating set to music, and then the little spiel I gave at the end.
It hasn’t gotten a lot of views. I didn’t expect it to. But it got some likes and a couple supportive comments.
One user said that she’s been experiencing something similar as a college soccer player who recent got an injury that might end her career, and my words gave her strength and inspiration.
That made me feel really good to read.
I want to make another video like it soon. Maybe I’ll make posting videos like that a regular thing. A little bit of venting how I’m feeling, followed by doing what I still love, and inviting anyone who wants to share that little moment with me.
Though I’m pretty sure I won’t share with TikTok how mentally discombobulated I am over trying to resist letting my lifelong enemy be the first man to make me come.
I’m teaching an evening class today, and when I get to the rink, I’m surprised to see Shane.
“Hey, Shane, didn’t think you’d be here today,” I greet him.
“I switched with another one of the guys who had a class this afternoon,” he answers.
Shane’s a cute guy. More than just cute, honestly. He’s got short brown hair that looks really good on him, bright green eyes, and a sharp, angular face. He’s tall, muscular, and always seems to smell like cinnamon.
He’s nice, too. And flirty. Really flirty.
Hm.
I bet Shane’s just about as skilled in the bedroom as Hunter is. And with him, there wouldn’t be a lifetime of complications to muddy the waters.
Sleeping with Shane wouldn’t be crossing a line. It would just be a normal college hookup.
I know Casey said that she “can tell” Shane isn’t good for hookups. But there’s no way she was being serious. I mean, come on, look at him. Most girls would probably come just from watching him undress.
“So, Shane,” I say. “I was thinking …” I pause for a minute, wondering if I should go through with this—but screw it, it’s now or never. “Maybe we could, like … go out some time?”
A spark of interest flashes in Shane’s emerald green eyes. But it only lasts a minute, and it’s replaced by a strangely reluctant expression.
“Well, the thing is,” he says, “I’m, uh … not a relationship guy.”
“Oh. Well … what if it doesn’t have to be a relationship?”
Shane takes a deep breath before letting it out through grit teeth. “Look, I’ve got no poker face around a pretty girl. Normally, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. But …”
I arch an eyebrow. “But what?”
“Well … I’m not allowed to.”
My arched eyebrow only arches higher. “What do you meannot allowed to?”
