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“Don't soundthatshocked.”
“Any chance you've continued drinking this morning?”
My arms cross. “Please. We’re both control freaks in different ways.”
It's returned. Our back-and-forth.
“How many minutes do you spend in the shower?” I ask, enjoying the surprise flit across his face. I like keeping him guessing. Keeping myself random around him.
Huan fidgets with his towel, which I don't notice because I am a gentlewoman.
“Have you been timing me?” he wonders.
“Not an answer,” I argue.
“Six and a half,” he says. “But I don’t see how environmental consciousness is a mark against my character.”
“No, you misunderstand.” I shake my head. See, I like us going back to normal... but I also don't. We’re so close to going back to that, but for the very first time, I realize I don't want to retreat back to a safety zone. It's terrifying, but I want to stand in this exact spot without forgetting everything that has happened. And to do that, I've got to make my stand.
“I never said I didn’t like it,” I confess, ignoring how squirrelly this feels. “You being in control… I like it. In certain circumstances.”
I don’t think he will ask for details.
No, he will say chicken, or whatever breaks this between us. In fact, any second now and he'll dump us back into old patterns. He’ll say he’ll wait for me outside and roam the perimeter, or, worse, the gym. And I’ll be ready and yearning, but unable to articulate it, so I’ll default to brat-mode. I might very well tell him I want to hold a penis. Not specify that it’s his. Allude to penis-hunting activity. Make him snap. Use jealousy to get what we both want.
I don’t know. Can it be different? Can’t I say what I feel? It feels likeNow or Never.
“Huan.” It’s like telling secrets again. “My Huan.”
He looks stricken, like he got hit in the face.
“I need to be touched.”
“You need what?” He asks it faintly, as if wheezing the words out.
“I’ve got hungry skin.” My voice is miserable, as if I’m actually pained by my arousal and by our lack of action.
He’s frozen. A statue. Not one muscle moves. I’ve broken Huan.
Then splotches form on his neck. “I’m your bodyguard.”
“And I’ll be an actress,” I say. “But I don’t want to talk about the future.”
“What do you want?”
My fingers clench at my sides. Nervousness bubbles up. “Not to spell it out, but if I have to—you. And we’re both liars. We can’t say you’re only my bodyguard.”
I should grope my own tits. The sight would destroy him.But my arms flop against my sides and my whole face pinches, seconds away from making a more desperate sound. “I… can’t… stand… this… anymore. Us. Pretending we're not—you know—going out of our skin—and?—”
The moment he gets it is obvious. His eyebrows crush together as if now he is suffering. Maybe on my behalf, maybe on his own, too.
“Ms. Chahal, this could be a big mistake.”
“I am... aware, Mr. Li.”
“Then why?”
“Because it's driving me insane! How are you not INSANE?”
