Page 83 of Naive in Love

Memories of my first time flood my mind, and I begin to wonder what I could have done wrong. I spiral into self-doubt, and I scramble to get off his lap.

“Woah!” He grabs my hips, keeping me in place. “Where do you think you are going?”

“I…uh…I was…giving you space.” My gaze drops to my hands as I knead them together, wanting to be anywhere else but here.

“No you don’t, baby girl.” He places a finger under my chin, lifting my head. “I don’t want space. I want you. Too much. But I’m in no hurry. I’m not going to screw things up.”

I try to drop my gaze again, but he holds it steady. “Talk to me. What are you thinking?”

Self-conscious, I choose silence.

“We’ll sit here until you talk to me. How the hell do you think we are going to make it if we can’t talk to each other? Openly and honestly.”

He’s right. But how do you go about asking,Do I suck at making out?

"Why did you pull away?" I ask instead, not ready to reveal my insecurities.

"What do you mean? We just got together last night. After all the craziness and misunderstandings, I don't want us to rush into something before we’ve had time to talk. To make sure we’re on solid ground." I try and get off him again, but he holds me to him. "Baby girl, look at me.” He waits for me to look up at him again. “I'm not exactly innocent—”

“Exactly,” I interrupt him. “And you pulled away. With others, you can, but with me, you can’t. I get it.”

The memories of him with other girls who are so different from me, flood my mind. My confidence plummets to a record low. My throat is closing in. I try again, with more force this time, to get off his lap, but he continues to hold my hips firmly, making my attempt futile.

“Exactly is right. But not what you’re thinking. I've had my fair share of hookups, but that's not what I want for us. With us, it's more. I’m not just going to ‘hit it and quit it’ with you. I’m in this for the long haul…with you."

My heart is pounding against my chest, and the white noise in my ears is too much.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.” His voice is soothing.

I drop my gaze to his chest. Looking him in the eyes is too difficult. “I don’t know how to start.” I stop. I can’t admit this to him. To anyone.

“You can tell me anything.” He holds my face in his hands and swipes the tears that have fallen with the pads of his thumb. He kisses my lips softly and says, “Trust me to take care if you.”

He pulls back, watching me as I struggle to find the courage. I just need to say it and be done with it.

“It’s…embarrassing. I don’t want to ask or…admit…” I drift off, trying to formulate thoughts in the least humiliating way possible.

Unable to look at him while sharing, I scoot over to sit next to him with my back against the wall, hugging my legs to my chest. He patiently waits for me to begin.

“Well…I guess I’ll start by saying I was a virgin until right before Christmas. I…well…” I glance at him from the corner of my eye before looking back down at my hands again. “…now I’m not. But, uh…it only happened that one time.”

I take a long, slow breath, calming myself, knowing that is only the tip of the iceberg.

My silence prompts Ethan to say, “While I like that you are being honest with me about this, I still don’t understand.”

“I didn’t like it. And I don’t think he did either because it was over as fast as it started. And I saw with my own gawd-damn eyes that he can enjoy it. So I’m thinking…it’s me. There must be something wrong with me because it wasn’t like anything I’ve read or seen, or the way people talk about it. I must suck at it. And you just stopped us, which…” I blurt it all out before I can think too hard. I never once look up from my hands, which I have been wringing incessantly.

“Baby, uh,” he pauses for a second, then continues, “that was a lot you just threw out at me. Give me a sec.”

When I refuse to look up, he moves in front of me kneeling on the floor next to the bed. He grabs my legs, pulling me toward him. When my eyes make contact with his, he says, “Now I need you to listen to me. Really listen.”

He waits for me to give him the okay before continuing. “First and foremost, you do not suck at making out. That was not the reason I stopped us. I already admitted to wanting you. Really fucking bad if I’m honest. But I’m not going to screw us up by jumping the gun. Next, while the honesty thing is good, and I asked for it, I don’t want to know about you and the douche. Mental pics of y’all together suck.”

He comes up, meeting our foreheads together. “You and I…we’re different.” He rubs my nose with his. “While I wish I was your first, to show you how amazing it can be, it wasn’t in our cards. You and I will write our own story.” He brings his lips to mine mumbling, “I’ve never felt this way with anyone before. I fell in love with you before you were even mine.”

Did he? Did I just hear? Am I delirious? “Did you…”

“Yes, I did. I love you. I have for some time now. I know I’m breaking all the dating rules telling you this now, but I can’t let any more confusion about feelings keep us apart or break us up. You have no idea what it has been like for me these past couple of months.”

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