Page 39 of What It Means To Be Found

Did I just…? Oh god, I did.

Without thinking about it, I quickly grabbed my phone and ended the FaceTime call. I was feeling embarrassed, and slightly scared from what I had just done. As seconds passed in silence, I knew I rationally shouldn’t feel embarrassed at all. What I had done was totally normal, and we were two consenting adults. Also, and probably more importantly…I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Logan was clearly just as into it as I was, and we both rode the wave until the end goal was met.

But what do we do now?

When we see each other again, do we go about our day as if we hadn’t jerked it to each other over FaceTime?

I lay in the darkness, my muscles slowly relaxing as my body came down from its incredible orgasm, when my phone buzzed with a message from Logan.

Before I could feel even more embarrassed, I opened the message from him.

Logan: Next time, I want to be there to hear those sweet little noises you make.

Logan: I want to feel that pretty blush on your skin.

My mouth dropped open, holy mother of hell.

He wasn’t done.

Was he not embarrassed like I was? Of course not, he clearly wasn’t spiraling about what we had just done. Fuck me. Be brave, Eloise. He’s offering hands-on orgasms, are you really going to say no to that?

Me: Deal.

11

LOGAN

How do you start a conversation with another person after you both masturbated together over a FaceTime call?

What was the proper procedure?

Socially, what was the expected next move?

I was completely out of my element, feeling like I was driving blind when it came to Eloise. The number of times I stared at the pictures she had sent me the following nights were alarming. I ended up deleting the images after a week, thinking that she probably wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing that I kept them for my own personal spank bank. I hated to do it because I was starting to become obsessed with her bedtime look, but it had to be done. I needed to keep a small shred of self-respect.

Two weeks had passed, and I had been too much of a wuss to text her again.

Two weeks had passed, and she hadn’t texted me either.

Was that just because I hadn’t texted her first? I texted her first last time, though I wasn’t expecting to escalate the conversation to where it went. I figured it was her turn to text me first, right?

Was I overthinking this?

Courtney dropped her weights on the ground, making a loud crash echo throughout the gym, and successfully snapped me out of my thoughts.

I was startled, stepping forward too late to help her with her deadlift and realizing she was already bending down to grab her water bottle.

“You’re in another world today,” Courtney commented, looking me up and down like she was suspicious.

Sorry, I apologized, scrubbing a hand down my face.

The advice I received from Josh and the others was helpful in one sense. Through the powers of texting, as if we were teenagers, I had managed to communicate to Eloise that I wanted her. She was clearly receptive. This was good to know, even though I still had dozens of questions floating around in my mind.

Did she want me to take her on a date?

Did she want to keep it casual?

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