Page 49 of You Can't Hurt Me

Chapter 13—In Your Thoughts

My love for you began with your brain. I thought about what was inside your head a lot, exactly what made your billion or so neurons so different to the rest. I wanted to see your mind unfold in real time. Not just the mechanics of it all but the originality of your expression, your artistic playfulness constantly mining new ideas, new perspectives.

Of course, beyond your imagination, you fascinated me clinically. That may sound cold but scientists like me are eternally searching for that one medical anomaly who can shed light on their particular area of expertise. And that medical anomaly happened to be you.

Nate tilts his head doubtfully.

“Getting into her brain? Sounds a bit mad scientist.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Not in the way you describe here.”

“It’s staying. It gives you an edge, makes you sound intriguing. The sexual attraction bit comes later.”

Chapter 14—Feeling Your Pain

I wonder what would have happened if my research hadn’t drawn media interest from around the world. Overnight you were photographed and interviewed by newspapers and TV channels.

The extraordinary attention your story received meant that there was a reason to keep in touch—the media often wanted to interview both of us. I was the one who offered scientific insight but it was you they found compelling.

When you asked to meet me one evening, I knew it wasn’t strictly professional, given we’d only just finished our research project. I convinced myself I’d only hook up for a short drink...but four hours later we were still talking.

“And you kissed her that evening?” I ask, aware that I’m more interested than I should be.

Nate leans back, exhales.

“I know it’s a delicate subject but I think we really need to include it in this section.” I glance at him, offer a reassuring smile.

“Ah, you mean the oh-so-significant first kiss.”

“Well, readers will want to know. So what really happened?”

We met in a featureless pub at the end of my road. You told me how you’d always come across as different to people, all your life. How you had struggled to feel the same as everyone else, tofeelanything at all.

As I looked at you, the way your eyes glittered, how animated you seemed, I wanted to help. I began to realize the bitter irony of it, that I’d set out to find a cure for pain but now I felt you deserved the very opposite, the chance to feel it. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t met you for that drink. Would we have drifted apart once the media interest ended? A blank moon hung low in the sky as I walked you to the subway and we shared our first kiss.

“Well?” I said, leaning back, pleased with myself.

“It’s good.” He deliberates, head tilted. “But not remotely true?”

“Most of it is. Youdidkiss her.”

“We didn’t kiss at that point. It was the next time we met, at her apartment.”

“But it lends something to the moment. It’s still being true to the spirit of it, the significance of every first kiss.”

He looks at me. “Every?”

“I meant, mean, your and Eva’s kiss,” I stumble, sensing his presence next to me, his energy intensifying. Is he about to say something, name what’s in the room? For a brief moment I am held by that look in his eyes. His hand, next to the keyboard, almost touches mine and, in a second, I could break the silence, call this out for what it is. He could too. All of a sudden it hits me, that this is how it will be between us, our first kiss, not theirs, burning away, unresolved. I move my hand away, primly, glance at him in profile, jaw clenched, inscrutable. Why would I risk being hurt again?

“Nate—” I sigh, shake my head “—don’t let us go there.”

“Go where exactly?”

His semi-playful tone irks me, particularly when we’re writing about the first time he met his wife. Is it all a game to him? He has so much less to lose than me.

Nate catches my pained expression and lets it go. With concerted effort we focus our gaze on Eva.

---