Page 45 of Show Me How
“I didn’t say that. I’m an anxious person. Don’t think you’re that special,” I bite out.
Yeah, I’ll admit to being a bit defensive. But I didn’t already toss all of my self-respect out the window to ask him to do this with me only to have him turn his back on it already.
He whistles. “Okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you working yourself up about this. It’s supposed to be fun.”
“You left me with the two most complicated lists to make.”
“They’re not supposed to be complicated.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I argue, relaxing bit by bit.
“Just tell me what you’ve got so far.”
Swallowing, I go back to the Notes app. “I have the rules figured out.”
“Tell them to me,” he urges.
“The first one is ‘don’t say anything stupid.’” Suddenly, I regret writing that. With a wince, I add, “I just don’t know how I’ll be acting once we . . . you know.”
“Take that one off,” he demands, a slight bite in the words.
“What? Why?”
“You can’t say anything stupid when you’re learning about what you like sexually. Don’t censor yourself. I don’t want that.”
A few of the knots in my stomach unravel. “Okay, I’m deleting that one.”
“Good girl. What’s next?”
I sink my teeth into my lip and squeeze my eyes shut in response to the praise. If I ignore the pleasure I get from hearing him say it, maybe it will stop having an effect on me.
Jumping past the second rule on my list, I say, “No sexual touching unless I’ve shaved and showered.”
There’s a weighted pause that feels like it won’t ever end. I shift on the couch and lie on my back, my legs kicked out and moving nervously. Worry gnaws at me, growing more painful as the seconds pass.
His voice is tense when he says, “You never told me about your first time.”
“Because you didn’t ask,” I mumble.
“Was it bad?”
“It wasn’t the best.”
“Did he make you come, princess?”
My brain starts to spark and fizzle. I’m incapable of speaking as I short-circuit. My grip on my phone turns pained as I make it tighter and tighter until finally, I release it completely. I touch my cheeks and instantly feel the heat in them. They burn so badly it’s uncomfortable.
“That’s the mildest thing we’re going to be talking about if we do this, Millie. Don’t freeze up on me already,” he coos, his voice like a gentle caress on my oversensitive skin.
“No,” I croak, shaking my head despite being alone. “No, he didn’t.”
“I’m going to take a shot in the dark and say that he wasn’t a fan of pubic hair either.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Scratch the rule.”
“I can’t get rid of them all,” I argue, but it’s weak.
