“And Rachelle?” I find myself asking, my cheeks burning.
A sigh rattles my chest. “We dated. In college,” he adds, “so it was a long time ago and we weren’t a good fit. We’ve remained friends, but…”
“But?” I probe, wanting more information, desperate to soak in what he has to say.
“I get the impression she might still harbor feelings for me, and I don’t want to lead her on when I feel nothing but friendship.”
“That’s … commendable.”
He chuckles, swiping one of my fries. I give him a look letting him know I didn’t miss his slick move. “Commendable? What do you mean by that?”
“I mean … I assume most men would be okay with leading someone on if it meant they might get sex out of it.” Fire burns my cheeks because I can’t believe I said that out loud. As if I know anything about sex and the habits of it. I practically have virgin stamped across my forehead.
I know Molly is a virgin too, but some of the other girls we were friends with in high school had no problem with sex. I never said it out loud, but I found myself envious of their cavalier attitude. I wished I could be so open and unafraid to share my body with a guy. But I also know everyone’s different, and I haven’t been ready. The way my body reacts in Hayden’s presence though I think it’s getting there. My brain on the other hand still needs some convincing on the idea of sex.
He licks icing off his fingers, cocking his head to the side. “Sex isn’t everything. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you and say I haven’t indulged now and then, but it’s not worth giving someone the wrong idea. Some might disagree with me, but if you’re going to have a one-night stand or a sex only relationship it’s better to do it with someone who doesn’t actually know or care about you.”
“Sounds clinical,” I mutter.
“Sex is pleasurable but complicated.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I blurt it out there. If I wasn’t blushing before I sure am now. But I felt like putting it out there and being honest. I hate the shame I feel for my lack of experience, but I don’t think Hayden is the type to judge.
He shrugs, those piercing light green eyes seeming to see straight through me. “Casual sex is overrated anyway but with the right person it’s…”
“It’s?” I prompt when he doesn’t continue.
“It’s pretty fucking great.” He turns away from me, clearing his throat, and focuses his sole attention on the last bit of his cinnamon bun.
“It scares me,” I admit, finding the words tumbling easily from my mouth. “Intimacy. Sex,” I add like he doesn’t already know what I’m talking about. “It’s not only the being naked in front of someone else part. You’re laid bare in a bigger way than the flesh and that … that’s what terrifies me.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just studies me and weighs his words. “When you’re with the right person you won’t think of any of that. Sure, there will be shyness, but everything else will outweigh your fears. I guess my advice is to wait for when you’re with someone you trust. That sounds like such a basic bullshit answer but it’s the truth.”
“I hate this,” I admit, stuffing three fries in my mouth.
“What? The fries?” His brows furrow in skepticism.
“My naivety.”
He snorts. “We all start out naïve, Emilia. It’s not unique.” My cheeks flame at being called out and his eyes widen. “Fuck, I didn’t mean that to sound like a dig—it’s just, we’re all in the same place at some point and all through life you’re going to be in situations that make you feel vulnerable. That’s how it goes.”
“Do you feel like you know a lot about life?” I whisper. Surely he has some profound knowledge I’ve yet to learn.
“No, not a lot.” He drops the empty cinnamon bun box into the bag. “But I’ve learned bits and pieces as I go along. All our paths are different. My wrongs might be your rights and vice versa. I think we need to stop telling ourselves there’s a right and wrong way to do life. Life isn’t linear. It’s a series of wrong turns, and little moments, laughter, tears. It’s beautiful because of that. No moment lasts forever, even if at the time it feels never ending. You just have to get to the other side.”
“The other side of tomorrow,” I mumble softly, a tiny smile touching my lips at a memory.
“What was that?” he asks me to repeat.
“The other side of tomorrow,” I speak up, adjusting my position on the couch and tucking my legs under me. “A girl named Willa came to our school one year and was talking about her experience with kidney failure and transplant. She told us she kept focusing on getting to the other side of tomorrow, because somewhere in that figurative tomorrow was a better future, she just had to persevere.”
“Sounds like good advice.” He swipes another fry and I playfully swat at his hand.
“Stop stealing my fries.” I cradle them closer to me. “And yeah, it was, but I forgot about it until now.”
“Clearly it stayed with you for you to remember it all this time.”
“Yeah,” I draw out the word.
“Emilia?”
“Hayden?” I arch a brow at his tone.
“Share your fries, please.”
I stick my tongue out at the grown man on my couch. “Get your own.”
His eyes drop to my lips subconsciously. “I’d rather have yours.”
“Are we still talking about fries?” I ask boldly.
He moistens his lips. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
“You tell me.”
Who the hell am I?
He clears his throat, his hands flexing on his jean clad thighs. He’s stiff, almost frozen.
“What are you thinking about?” I prompt, hoping to get him out of his head and wherever his thoughts strayed.
He angles his head in my direction. “I’m thinking about how fucking wrong it is how much I want to kiss you again.”
“Why is that wrong?” I whisper, my eyes drawn to his lips at the mention of a kiss. If I think hard enough I can remember how soft they were on mine compared to the sandpaper texture of his stubble.
“Because you’re eighteen and I’m thirty-three.”
I nearly voice how it’s legal, but I doubt that would sound reassuring for him.
“What else?” Time ticks by and he doesn’t answer. I move the food from my lap to the coffee table and scoot closer to him, rising on my knees. “What else, Hayden?”
His eyes pierce me and my stomach dips in response. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. “I can’t think of anything else.”
Time slows as he reaches for me, hands on my cheeks. My face feels so small clasped in his large palms. They’re surprisingly soft and warm. Gentle. He guides me to him, his eyes flicking from my lips to my eyes and back again, like he’s waiting for any sign of hesitation for me to give him permission to stop. I do no such thing.
I spent the entirety of high school mostly afraid of guys. They felt like a terrifying species and if I’m honest with myself I was always afraid none of them really liked me and were only messing with me for laughs.