Page 84 of Drilled (Dad Bod Contracting 2)
Finally, as we start to get back to the area of beach that’s familiar to me, with the condo building approaching in the distance, we seem to run out of things to talk about. Except for a few topics, which somehow seem fragile and delicate, and we whisper to one another about things past, present, and future.
Franco stops, toes dragging through the wet sand, his eyes going to mine, to the sand, and then back to mine. “I know I may not have any right to ask you this, and I may regret it, but…has there been anyone else?”
“If there’s a now-what with us,” I tell him, “then I think you do have a right to ask.”
He nods. “I guess that makes sense. I think I’m just nervous to hear the answer.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. Chews on his lip, and then meets my eyes. “Because I don’t want there to have been anyone else. Honestly, the thought of you with anyone else makes me queasy. That’s part of what got me to admit that I want this with you, and that I needed to do whatever I had to, to get to you.”
“No.” And in that moment, I’m pathetically relieved I can say that with honesty. “There’s been no one since you. Not since that first time we were together.”
“Really?”
I nod. “I couldn’t.” I laugh awkwardly, nervously. “I tried, actually. Quite a few times. Went out and tried all the usual tricks to pick up a guy, and succeeded at that part. But when it came time to start doing anything, I just…couldn’t.”
“Why not?” he asks.
I shake my head and shrug. “None of them were you.” I meet his eyes. “That’s all I can really say. They weren’t you, and I knew they’d never be…enough. They’d never be you, and there never would be another you. And I just couldn’t.”
“I couldn’t either,” he murmurs; he looks away for a moment, and then back down at me. “I know it might sound shitty, but…I didn’t want this.”
I laugh, a quiet huff. “I thought I didn’t either.”
“That night at my house…” He licks his lips. “I ran to the garage because what happened—the sex, I mean…being bare inside you. It was…too much. It was…” he trails off, swallowing hard. “It was the most perfect thing I’ve ever felt in my entire fucking life, and it felt so right it scared the absolute bejesus out of me.”
I’m having trouble breathing, catching my breath, swallowing, seeing anything but his eyes, his lips. “Me too,” I whisper.
Franco stares down at me, and I can’t pierce his expression, can’t fathom what he’s thinking.
And I desperately need to know.
“Franco…” I step closer; the sea is behind him, the condo behind me; stars and moon bathe us in silver, the surf crashes quietly, and my heartbeat is the loudest sound around. “Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling. Sometimes I look at you and I just know what you’re thinking and feeling, and other times I can’t read you at all.”
“I’ve got a hell of a poker face,” he says. “I’m thinking…I’m super conflicted right now.”
“About what?”
“I want you. I need you.” He rests a hand on my waist, and his touch is gentle and warm and soothing and arousing. “I need to kiss you, I need to feel you…I need to be inside you. I need to connect with you like we did that night in my bedroom.” He swallows hard again. “But I’m also just so fucking exhausted and overwhelmed and emotionally just…” He shakes his head, words failing him. “And I also just want to lay down with you and…and hold you. And just sleep.”
“Franco,” I interrupt.
He stops short. “Yeah?”
“That honestly sounds like the most amazing plan I’ve ever heard.”
“It does?”
I trail my fingers through his hair, let my hands caress his shoulders in a possessive sort of affectionate way that I’ve never allowed myself to show anyone before. “You, holding me. Just sleeping together.” He starts to talk, and I touch his lips to quiet him. “There will be all the time in the world for other stuff, Franco. You know as well as I do that you and I have the most ridiculously combustible chemistry on the planet, and I know you want me, and you know I want you, and I think it’s fine for us to explore other areas of a physical relationship.”
“I actually think it’s important, you know? Neither of us are familiar or comfortable with this whole emotional component thing, and…we need to explore that together, not just get caught up in sex all the time.”
“We agree, then,” I say.
I take his hand in mine and we walk up to the condo together. It’s dark in the condo, lit only by the stars and moon, and the green glow of the digital clock on the microwave. I close and lock the door behind us, set my purse down on the counter, and we just stand there in the silence for a moment.
