Page 39 of The Romantic Agenda
Joy continues, “Eventually you get tired of hearing ‘stop leading me on’ and getting violently threatened after accusations of ‘being a tease.’ I had to learn how to recognize situations like that. I know what their expectations are. I know how to flirt, work a room, and dazzle people. I also know my limits and how to keep myself safe.”
“Oh, I guess I didn’t think about it like that.” Summer glances at Malcolm for help, but he shrugs. “There’s good stuff too. Like in ayou get turned on and you want to have sexkind of way. Oh god, you just said you didn’t, I’m sorry.”
“I never said that.” Joy holds back a reluctant sigh. “For the record, I do get ‘turned on’ in a manner of speaking. Attraction has nothing to do withmylibido. She wants what she wants when she wants it, no outside influence required, if you catch my drift. A few days before my period, it gets rough.”
“What do you do? Just wait it out?”
“Pfft, no.” Masturbation is a biological wonder. Sometimes, it could be so good it would clear up a migraine. “Why suffer when masturbation exists?”
Fox suddenly says, “I’m going to the kitchen, anybody want anything?” and doesn’t stop to wait for an answer. He doesn’t even stop in the kitchen, walking straight past it.
“Oops,” Summer says, with a tiny laugh. “Fox is a little, um, conservative. Very modest.”
“We madehimuncomfortable?” Malcolm asks, voice thick with disbelief.
“Probably.” Summer takes the remote from him and presses play.
Meanwhile, Joy isdevastated, feeling completely horrified. Fox lied. She’d (rightfully) made such a big deal about boundaries andflowers and within thirty seconds of him giving her carte blanche, she makeshimuncomfortable. She turns back to the TV, trying to pay attention to the movie and not her racing thoughts. Her breathing is too fast, her chest aches, and regret won’t stop pummeling her. Fox had been sitting right next to her—how come she didn’t notice his uneasiness?
Joy endures five more unbearable minutes before leaving to go find him.
Eleven
The front door is mysteriously cracked open. Joy spots Fox through the window next to it, sitting on the porch swing.
“Hey, hey.” She aims for casual while lingering in the doorway. “In the mood for company?”
“Sure.”
One-word answer, and it’s like a stab in the heart.
Joy sits down, leaving a good amount of space between them. The temperature has dropped some, but the warm summer air is still winning. “So. About earlier.”
“What about it?” He glances at her before turning back to the stars.
How conservative is conservative? The nudity was probably too much. Should she use euphemisms? She didn’t want to risk upsetting him again by accident.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Joy focuses on the sky too. Country dark is truly a sight to behold. The moon, stars,and constellations—everything so clear and close. “I, um, had to learn how to be, um, detached and, um, blunt, in conversations like that as a defense mechanism, you know? A sort ofget them before they get you. Make fun of yourself before they can do itkind of situation.”
“Okay.”
Joy swallows, steeling herself so she can keep going. “The things that I said, I’ve been practicing saying them for years. They don’t really bother me at all anymore. It’s a script—those things about me are true, but they’re also safe. I can say them because I have a general idea of how people will react and how I can steer the conversation as needed.
“I didn’t want to be mad at Summer, but it was happening. And I didn’t want Malcolm to be mad at me for being mad at Summer. She made a mistake, and so I ran with it to diffuse the situation for all of us. I know not everyone had to learn how to cope like that and are more, um, modest. I’m sorry.”
Fox inhales, chest rising and then falling. When he turns to her, he’s frowning. “Yeah, I thought I could fake my way through that. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Huh?“What? What do you mean?” she asks. “Earlier. We were talking about sexual tension and chemistry. I made the conversation take a turn, you got upset, and it’s all my fault?”
Fox’s laugh gets stuck in his nose—not quite a snort, but close. He even has to turn away for a second. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Oh,” she says, leaving her lips in a thoughtful pucker. “Then what’s wrong?”
He turns his entire body to face her, resting his arm on the top of the swing. The movement rocks them backward, making them sway gently. “Joy,” he says, leaning closer. “Thank you for notgetting mad at Summer. And it’s very sweet that you’re worried about me, but I’m fine.”
Joy wishes she could believe the soft expression in his eyes, but there’s something else there, drawing her in and trying to show her the truth. “Are you lying? I feel like you’re lying.”
“Do you always do that? Just say whatever you’re thinking? You think a thought and it has to be said.”
