Page 67 of The Trouble with Wanting

“It’s not bad, Boyd,” I say. “The problem isn’t that you want to make me feel good. It’s that by focusing on how you can make me feel good—or the fact that you couldn’t make me orgasm—you did the exact opposite of make me feel good.”

His face falls, the hopeful expression he was wearing withering away as fast as my looming orgasm.

“Do you know what it feels like to have every sexual experience in my life result in an argument like that?” I say, pointing at the bathroom behind him. “To have every man I’ve slept with look at me like you did, like you still are?”

Instantly, he wipes his face clean.

“It wrecks something inside of me. I’m not a broken toy for you to fix. I’m fine just the way I am. And when all you can focus on is the fact that you haven’t made me orgasm, it makes me unable to think about anything else. It takes away the things I can enjoy about sex because all I can think about is the idea that I’m letting you and your precious ego down.”

Boyd doesn’t say anything after that, his nostrils flaring as he tries not to show me how upset he is.

I sigh again then unwrap my hair from the towel, wishing I’d followed Boyd’s lead about taking things slow instead of pushing for us to move faster.

Maybe then something like this wouldn’t have happened.

Or maybe it would have been just the same.

“I’m gonna go on a hike, and I’ll be gone for a while.” I tuck my hair into a messy bun. “There’s a dryer in the closet next to the kitchen if you want to throw your clothes in there. Take your time.”

Giving him a sad smile, I grab my keys and watch off the dresser, pull my walking shoes from my suitcase, and then walk out the door.

chapter fifteen

Ruby

Washburn Trail isn’t particularly steep, stretching in switchbacks from the road near Ken’s house through the tall pines that surround the lake. It still takes me over an hour to get to the spot I’m searching for, and when the clearing finally breaks free, the view does not disappoint.

I found this outlook last night, my online search for hiking trails one of the things I did to keep my mind off of wishing Boyd had stayed. Ironic that the search for the trail was what I did to distract me from a man, and now the actual hike itself is doing the same.

California mountains are different than what I’ve seen in the movies and on TV. Maybe it’s just this specific area, but I always assumed there would be higher peaks. Most of the terrain surrounding Cedar Point is kind of flat, the tree-filled expanse around the small town providing elevations that are more like hills than mountains.

It isn’t until I look from my slightly elevated viewpoint at the end of Washburn that I can see real mountains off in the distance, the summits high enough that they’re covered by a ring of clouds.

I hike a lot back home. I’m sure a city girl like me might not look like I spend that much time in nature, but the beauty of the Massachusetts outdoors can’t be beat.

Though, now that I’ve hiked along this trail and I have enough elevation to see a good portion of the woodlands surrounding Cedar Point, I might be able to agree that California forests can rival the beauty of my favorite Bay State spots.

I take a seat on an old tree stump that was cut away at some point, just enjoying the view.

Something inside of me enjoys this quiet town much more than I ever expected to. I’m not sure what it is exactly that makes me feel like my rambling soul has found a place to rest. Maybe it’s the crisp mountain air. Maybe it’s the quiet, something I’m not as familiar with being a Chelsea girl, born and raised.

Or maybe it’s none of those things.

Maybe it isn’t the place. Maybe it’s the people.

Or the person, rather.

One person.

Boyd.

As much as I’d like to say I walked this trail and really enjoyed nature and my surroundings, I was so much more distracted than I want to admit.

I spent the—I glance at my watch—eighty-minute hike up here going over my conversation with him back at the house, where I had a complete meltdown because he didn’t know how to handle things.

It was so unfair to him.

Boyd didn’t do anything wrong today. The things I said to him were valid, sure, but did he deserve my irritation and frustration simply because he was unfamiliar with the hurdles I face on the sexual highway?

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