Page 39 of My First Time Fling

I just had to find a way to deal with this. To get control of myself. That shouldn’t be so hard. I was good at fixing things, after all, at making them new and improved. I could do the same thing with myself—and if I did it fast enough and well enough, maybe Jesse would never have to find out.

As if thinking his name invoked his presence, a knock on the door broke through my endless anxiety spiral.

“Mark, are you okay?” Jesse’s voice came through the door, sleepy but concerned. “You’ve been in there for kind of a while. Is everything alright?”

So much for him not remembering this tomorrow.

None of my options were good. If I told him to go back to bed, that I’d be out in a bit, I’d ensure that he’d definitely worry about me. But if I told him what was actually wrong, I’d have to see his disgust when he found out I was crazy, and watch him distance himself from me. Or it could be even worse. So many people assumed that PTSD made a person violent and dangerous. I might see fear in Jesse’s eyes, instead of disgust.

I knew that would break me.

So that only left me with one other option: Tell him everything was fine. And hope that somehow, I got through the rest of the night.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to smile, forcing warmth into my voice and hoping it covered up the panic. “Just feeling a little sick from all the beer tonight, I guess. But I’m fine now.”

I unlocked the bathroom door and opened it. Jesse stood there, still unclothed and bathed in moonlight, completely perfect. All I wanted to do was pull him close.

“Okay,” he said. He paused for a moment, looking concerned. “You know it’s alright, if you’re a little freaked out about what we did tonight. It was a big step. It’s normal for you to need some time to process it.”

My eyes widened.Thatwas what he thought I was worried about? I smiled, and this time it wasn’t forced.

“I’m not confused about that at all,” I told him. “I promise. I’m glad we did it. I’d, uh, like to do it again. Sooner rather than later.”

A grin blossomed across his face, and relief was evident in his voice. “Oh thank God. I was afraid you were having second thoughts or something.”

“No second thoughts,” I said, giving in to my urge to wrap my arms around him, loving the feeling of his skin on mine. “Come on, let’s go back to sleep.”

I let Jesse lead me back to bed, and curved my body around his. I let him draw my arm over his chest, holding him close. It felt good. It felt right. And now that I’d found this happiness with Jesse, it felt like something I couldn’t lose.

I just had to figure out how to keep him.

13

Jesse

The first few days after we got back from Summersea passed in a blur. I had to work a bunch of shifts to make up for the ones I’d missed over the weekend, and Mark said he’d been busy too. I wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been busywith, but then again, what did I know about hanging drywall?

Still, we managed to see each other. We grabbed a quick lunch with Gigi on Monday between my morning shift at Cardigan Cafe and my afternoon one at the Flamingo. And just last night, Mark had come to hang out with me at the bar while I worked. I’d tried to get him to bring Gigi with him to that, too. Not that I didn’t want to hang out with him alone, but I sort of thought she might like it.

Mark had stayed until I closed the bar, and even insisted on walking me home. I’d teased him for it, but secretly—okay, not so secretly—I thought it was really sweet. Maybe it came from years of dating girls, but he could be so weirdly traditional about things, and it cracked me up.

But then, when we’d reached my door, and I asked if he wanted to come inside, everything got weird. Mark stammered something about being too tired to be fun, and it hit me that he was probably having second thoughts or felt like we were moving too fast. So, like an idiot, I tried to convince him we didn’t have to do anything, that we could just cuddle and go to sleep, which only made it more awkward when he insisted he needed to go home.

Maybe he really had been tired? Nothing else made sense, and I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying to figure it out. Even this afternoon, walking home after an exhausting shift at the cafe, I still wasn’t sure what to do.

Which made me even more confused when I saw Mark sitting on my front porch, waiting for me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I walked up the front walk. I cocked my head to the side when I got close. “And why do you look so sweaty?”

He smiled and shrugged. “I wanted to see you. And I knew you were getting off your shift soon, so I ran over.”

“You’re crazy.” I looked at him, bewildered. “You’re already running four times a week to train for a marathon. Why would you add more runs on top of that?”

“Well, it’s faster than walking.”

“So’s driving.”

He grimaced. “I don’t really like driving. Besides, it’s a beautiful day. Maybe I just want to have a picnic with my boyfriend without being given the third degree.”

---