Page 17 of My Orc Pen Pal

No email Tuesday morning either. The day was more hectic, and Benjamin surprised me by acting out a few times in ways I didn’t expect. I made some notes in his folder, wondering if I should contact his mother.

It was Tuesday night when my phone finally lit up with a notification that had me catching my breath. With my heart slamming against my chest, I opened my email.

Dear Rosemary,

I tried my hardest to give you time apart and not bother you. I hope it was sufficient, but I’ve missed you. Horribly. I would like to cash in on the first of the dates you owe me. Would tomorrow evening work? I promise not to keep you up too late, or to make you feel uncomfortable. May I come over after you’re done with work?

Yours,

Akhmim

The ending made me pause.

When we first began to correspond, he would sign his emails with ‘sincerely’. About two months ago, he switched to ‘yours’. At the time, I hadn’t thought much of it, because it was a normal way to end a letter.

Yours.

But now that I knew what I knew about him, I had to wonder. Was he “mine”?

Was I his?

Shaking my head, I replied.

Akhmim,

That would be great. How about 5:30? I trust you not to push me.

What did you do today?

I hesitated over the closing phrase. Usually I’d write,Love, Rosemary. But…love? I thought about what Benjamin asked me on Friday, and I winced. Ididn’tbelieve in true love, did I?

You just told Akhmim that you trusted him.

I did. Ido. Swallowing my sudden confusion, I just signed my name and hit send.

The rest of the evening felt more normal. Sure, I ate leftovers, but my heart calmed, knowing I could email Akhmim whenever I wanted to.

On Wednesday, even Benjamin’s shenanigans couldn’t quell my excitement, and after I wrote a note to his mom requesting a meeting next week, I hurried home.

The nervous,OMG I’m going on a datepart of me thought I should probably change and blow-dry my hair, but the rest of me reminded me that he’d seen all of me already—hell, he’d washed my hair!—and if he wasn’t interested in me in teacher leggings and a messy bun, then he reallydidn’tknow the real me.

I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I was ready when my phone dinged at five thirty, and the doorbell rang immediately after. I pulled open the door to see Akhmim standing there, a big box by his feet and two bags of takeout in his arms.

And you know what? When I breathed in, I had the sudden sense of surety thateverything would be okay.

“Hi,” he said with a soft smile, and I had to resist the urge to throw myself into his arms for a hug, because of what happened last time.

“What’s all this?” I bent to take the box, but he handed me the bags and lifted it himself, then followed me into the kitchen. “I thought we were going on a date,” I asked over my shoulder.

“I decided if I only get three tries at this, I want to make sure I get your focused, undivided attention. Would you rather eat first, or play?”

Straightening from where I’d been investigating the to-go containers, I turned to eye the box he was rummaging in. “Well, Pastabilities makes the best cheesy garlic bread on the island, and it looks like you got a triple order, so I’m down for dinner. But I’ll admit I’m curious as hell what you’ve got there.”

Grinning like a magician, Akhmim pulled out two brand-new pottery wheels and a giant lump of clay. “Arts and crafts time. Remember how you told me about that pottery class you took a few years back? I’d like to learn.”

I burst out laughing, suddenly glad Ihadn’tchanged or showered. We were about to get dirty! With that in mind, I suggested we eat first, although it’s possible we both rushed through the delicious food.

Not once during the conversation did Akhmim reference what we’d shared Saturday night, or what happened Sunday morning. I had to admit that surprised me. There were no lewd winks, no veiled references to what he’d done for me. I’d never met a guy who would so selflessly pleasure a woman and then not expect praise—or reciprocity.

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