Page 17 of My First Time Fling

Jesse deserved someone great. He was just getting over a breakup. He should get to be with someone he could trust. Someone who could be there for him. And there was no way I could give him that. How could I, when I could barely hold myself together?

But what was I supposed to do now? The thought of having to talk to Jesse again made my heart feel like it was getting squeezed in a vise. He’d want to talk about what had just happened. Which was totally fair. But I didn’t have any good answers for him.

I had two options, if we talked. Option number one, I told him it had been a mistake, a joke, an accident, and that I wasn’t interested. I knew that would hurt him. Even if he wasn’t crushing on me as hard as I was on him, no one wanted to hear that.

But option number two was no better. Option number two required me telling him that it wasn’t a mistake. That I’d kissed him because I’d wanted to, because he was all I’d been able to think about for weeks. But that risked him saying the same thing back. And wanting to take things further. Not just physically, but emotionally.

Jesse had joked about me being closed-off, and he was right. I was nowhere near ready to tell him, or anyone, what was going on with me. Why I was really here in Savannah. It was too embarrassing. Besides which, even if he knew, it wouldn’t change anything. I couldn’t give him what he deserved. Any course of action where I opened up would only end up with me letting him down.

Either way, I was going to hurt the only friend I had in Savannah. A friend I cared about more than I’d ever expected. A friend I couldn’t stand the idea of losing—not when I’d just met him. Not when he was the first thing in my life in a long time that was just pure, unvarnished good.

Jesse might tease me for my mysterious past, but he couldn’t seewhyI was being mysterious. He didn’t know how much it meant to me to have someone who didn’t know about all the ways in which I was broken. Someone who didn’t expect more from me than I could give. He was the only person who I felt close to who wasn’t walking on eggshells around me, afraid I might snap at any moment.

Jesse made me feel sane.

How could I lose that?

My breath started to speed up again and I forced myself up, lurching through the hall toward the kitchen. My hands shook as I filled a glass of water from the tap and, after taking a wild gulp, set it down on the table. I sank into a chair and put my hands on my knees, starting to do multiplication tables in my head.

2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 510—no, that wasn’t right. It was64, 128, 256, 512, that was it. I kept going, letting the numbers run through my mind until they got so big that I started to lose track of the digits in the ones place. Finally, my breathing slowed back to its normal rhythm.

I took another swallow of water and picked up my cell phone, staring at the screen. I’d been going to appointments with my new therapist for a few weeks now and—surprise surprise—her number one recommendation was to try to talk to people more. Not to isolate myself, or bottle things up.

I wasn’t used to sharing these parts of myself with people—the parts I was ashamed of and wished would go away. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do in this situation. And I didn’t want to have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of Gigi’s kitchen.

I dialed Gabe’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?” As usual, his voice rose up from the general din around him. Was there ever a time when he wasn’t surrounded by a group of twenty guys? “We’re doing kegs and eggs at Riley’s before the game.”

Evidently not.

“Of course you are,” I said, smiling weakly.

“Hey, gotta live while you’re young, right?”

“I should let you get back to it,” I said, already feeling dumb for calling. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting, man,” Gabe protested. “Besides, it’s been weeks since I’ve heard from you. I want to know what’s up.”

Of course he did. That was the problem with Gabe. Despite the general frat guy air about him, he was a genuine friend. And now I’d feel bad if I didn’t tell him.

“It’s stupid.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, it seems stupid now, anyway.”

“How ‘bout you tell me what the thing is, and letmedecide if it’s stupid?”

I sighed. “I was just—I guess I kind of have a problem, and I wanted to talk it out. I thought maybe you could—”

“Say no more,” Gabe cut in. “Just let me get outside. Hey, put bacon in mine!”

I assumed that last bit wasn’t directed at me.

“So what’s up?” Gabe asked as the noise died down behind him.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “This really does feel stupid, but I was kind of starting to freak out, and my therapist said that it could help to talk about things, instead of boxing them up. So I called you.”

---