Page 31 of Dreamers Often Lie

“Sam said it looked like you were in love. I mean, you kissed him right away.” Jules gasped. “People lost their fucking minds.”

“I have to shower. I reek.”

“You did get very sweaty as you were fucking him. It was a total workout.”

“Can we talk about this later?” I headed upstairs. “Have you been waiting by the door?”

Jules followed me up: “You know it. It was seriously insane. He was putty, and you could see how much he was enjoying it—you, I mean. How much he was enjoying you.”

“It was fun,” I managed.

I walked into my room and started to shut the door, but Jules pushed it open and strode in. “What? I'm not stopping you from showering. We can chat while you clean the stink of love off your body.”

“Fucking isn’t love.”

“The way you look, and banter with him is. Jesus, Ty!” he said, exasperated, and I knew that I was in for it. When Jules got something in his fucking craw, it wouldn’t go away.

“Fine.” I pulled off my shirt and threw it onto the floor. “You won’t take no for an answer.”

He reached out and pulled me into a hug. “God, you are sweaty. It’s ok, Ty. Because you won’t listen to what your own heart is trying to tell you. I know you too well, hon. You’re probably a mess.”

“A stinky mess.”

He let go and looked at me sternly. “That’s’ not what I mean, and you know it.”

I slid my pants off and kicked them away. “He’s… I don’t know, ok. Yes, he’s fun, and I like him. Is that what you want to hear?” I sat down naked on my bed and felt all of my muscles tense as I thought about him. The way his body felt against my fingers was different than it ever had been. I liked intimately touching him, and that just… I groaned loudly.

“Is it whatIwant to hear? Yes, and no… I want you to be truthful toyourselfand stop hiding behind all the walls you’ve built to protect your heart. You feel it. I know you do. It was there on your face as you stared into his eyes. The way you kissed him made my knees weak.”

“What does any of it mean, Jules?” I hung my head and took a deep breath. It was silly, but I could still smell him on my body. I liked it too much. What kind of anything could we ever have? We were sex workers who were trapped in the lives we lived. “How can we ever have something real? We aren’t the masters of our own destinies. Look what you're going through, babe. How can we ever give ourselves to anyone when this is our fucking life. We have Cappie’s property tattooed on our asses.”

“Metaphorically speaking, of course.” He looked at me affronted. “I would never have that tattoo.”

He walked over and slid his arm around my waist. I slumped against his thin frame.

“I’m just fucked up. As soon as I kissed him… I… I knew it. I wanted something more.” I sniffled and could feel the emotions I had denied threatening to burst like a fucking dam.

“Tell me.”

“He makes me laugh.”

“And…”

“He’s fun to talk to, and he’s fucking beautiful, so that doesn’t hurt.”

“And…”

“Fucking him was something different than anything I have ever felt before. It was meaningful or some kind of shit like that. I don’t know. He… he felt like he was made just for me, you know. That our pieces fit together in some way.” It was true. We were two peas in a pod, and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since we first spoke without fighting. He was different and kind. Funny and stupid. Beautiful and hard, yet soft on the inside.

“This wasn’t the first time that you felt that way with him, was it?”

“No. It’s been coming. Every time I see the fucker, he gets deeper into my skin,” I admitted.

“Is that a bad thing?” He stroked my hair, and I swallowed back the fear that had been overwhelming me. I knew it wouldn’t stay away. It was always there like a shroud.

“Yes. He scares me, ok? What I feel scares me.”

“Good. It should. It’s a major life event for you to even allow this.”

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