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Was it a fluke?
When the rush settles down and I have a few minutes to breathe, I dig my phone out of my apron and shoot off a text.
Me: I need to know if it was a one time thing.
I’m not expecting an immediate response, but when I pop into the back room to set some of the dishes in the sink, one comes in.
B: Elaborate.
Me: The boner. The intrusive sex thoughts. I haven’t felt it again.
B: Do you want to?
Me: I want to know if I can.
Since it’s quiet, I spend a few minutes cleaning some of the mugs out to save the evening shift some of the hassle. Is it fucked that I want to want to have sex? That even if my body isn’t entirely on board, it’s an experience I’d like to have? Does that break some kind of ace rule? If I’m ace.
Fuck, this shit is confusing.
Drying my hands on the apron and legs of my pants because Aaron never remembers to restock the paper towels, I pull my phone out just as it goes off.
B: The guy from before. Were you close to him?
Me: Sort of. I’ve known him a long time.
B: If you’re comfortable, I can give you some ideas of testing that theory. It’s nothing sexual. Nothing that will freak anyone out. Just something you can try with someone you’re comfortable around.
Me: I’m open to suggestions.
B: Touch him. Consciously. Think about what your hands are doing. Look for his reactions. See if that sparks anything.
Me: Touch how?
B: Simple things. Touching their arm, their knee, putting your arm around them, whatever is natural for you. Try to focus on how it makes your body feel.
I scrub a hand through my hair and take a glance towards the front of the store through the little oval windows. Blair is still sitting on the sofa, a book in his hands and his laptop on the table in front of him.
I’m sure it wasn’t anything personal. Bodies are weird. Getting a hard on when you’ve been largely sex-deprived probably isn’t that strange of an occurrence. There’s nothing wrong with getting turned on by a naked person.
I should chalk it up to a one-and-done experience and focus back on the things that matter.
But I meant it when I said I wanted to know if I could feel it again. Strangers obviously don’t do it for me. The person I’d trust most in the world to work through this with me isn’t in any condition to be doing so. On top of that, I’d have to admit all these things I’ve been keeping from him…
Blair, on the other hand, is… safe. For all of the times that I took care of Shiloh, I let him crawl in my bed and hide when his head was bad but his dad would never let him stay home, for each of those Blair was there to look out for us. All of the negative attention their dad wanted to direct at Shiloh, Blair took on himself.
Hell, when I got pneumonia one winter, it was Blair who drove me down to the hospital because neither of my parents were willing to admit something was wrong.
“Kids get sick,” Mom had said, busy nursing the twins after one of their colic episodes. Blair didn’t even argue with her, just snatched me out of bed and drove me out to the emergency room.
He’s always gone out of his way to do whatever he can for Shiloh and me.
Maybe thinking about it isn’t bad. Maybe he’s the safest person for me to work this shit out with in my head. He never has to know. Neither does Shiloh.
If he’s the only person I’ve ever responded to… I just need to know if it can happen again.
I could definitely use the distraction, especially from Shiloh’s ridiculous dare.
It’s another thirty minutes before I get to take my break, but when I do, I heat up two bowls of goulash from last night’s dinner shift and take them out to where Blair is staring at his phone with a frown.
