problem is, I am comfortable with it. I want to pull her back
and taste her sweet lips. I want to keep going, to inhale the
fragrance of her skin, to memorize the curves of her body, to
discover and map out what makes us feel good together. As
partners.
Part of me wants to explode off the couch and run for
the door. The part that’s scared. The part that was shattered
before. The part that I glued badly back together, where all the
cracks are still showing. I know that I have to have more
courage than this. I can’t let what happened ruin my entire life
or dictate all my decisions. What kind of person would I be
then?
The parts of me that want Steph, that feel the
connection, that feel the chemistry, tell me that my fears are
irrational. They make me want to be strong. They make me
want to have courage. They make me want to stay.
“Slow,” I say, probably more for me than Steph, but
she responds instantly.
“Yes. Slow. I’m sorry if I kissed you and that upset
you, I—”
“It didn’t upset me. I liked it. Really. It was amazing.
You’re incredible. I’ve never…” Saying the words seems too
personal. Too intimate. Too scary, because once I’ve said
them, that I’ve never had a connection like this with anyone, it
makes it very real. I want it to be real, but I also know that I
shouldn’t just fall blindly into it. I’m no longer one of those
people who can just dive straight into icy waters. I need to
ease myself in, one toe and appendage at a time.
Steph takes my hand. Her smooth fingertips run over
the back and down my fingers before she threads them