Page 66 of Love Harder

I said of course. I don’t want anyone doing something they don’t want to do.

He kissed me on the forehead and left.

Two nights had passed, and Brooklyn wasn’t in my bed.

Did I think it was a little sus?

Yes, I sure did.

Mötley, once again my saving grace, counseled me from the other side of the world, but we both knew something wasn’t right.

The next day, Brooklyn assured me he was staying over.

His bags were packed.

My friends told me they liked him. They thought he was polite and keen on me. He didn’t shy away from answering their questions and was more than open and honest.

He was who he said he was.

I was happy, but there was this niggling little feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wished it would go away, but it didn’t.

Brooklyn came over after work, and he looked gorgeous. He kissed me hello, and it amazed me that it felt so normal.

So what was the issue, then?

We spent the night with my friends who approved more so than ever. He was making an impression on them. And on me too.

So when we went upstairs, the inevitable was looming.

This was it.

Clothes were thrown off in haste, and when the moment came, the sex was…okay.

Was it earth-shattering?

No.

Was I disappointed?

Yes.

Sex is important in any relationship and I just wasn’t feeling it.

This was bad.

This was so bad that I couldn’t remember the last time I had sex that was this lukewarm.

How could this happen? Things were so hot between us on the phone. But in person, I may as well have been freezing my ass off in the North Pole because that’s how fucking cold things were between us.

But that didn’t sway my feelings because I couldn’t deny that I liked Brooklyn.

And he told me he felt the same.

But was that enough?

It was the first night he slept over.

In some ways, I wish he hadn’t because sharing a bed with a new partner should be exciting. But in the middle of the night, I awoke to rustling.

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