Page 35 of Touch Me

Things have been kind ofquiet the last few days. Jace told me about his issues, and I’ve done my damnedest to be accommodating. Even going so far as to not push him with talking. We’ve spent the last few days working separately and coming together in the evening for dinner–which I make–and then binging Netflix. We finished the sci-fi show and watched another series neither of us really got into.

Maybe it was the awkwardness from the elephant in the room that made the couch seem smaller than it did before. Knowing if each of us reached our hands toward the other it would be far too easy to test out the touching thing neither of us is talking about. We share long glances, each taking turns catching the other looking first. There’s a small comfort knowing he’s shit at reading people because if he could read my face, he would be down-right appalled at the images my lust-filled brain comes up with.

Footsteps shuffle past my doorway, and soon, there’s a rustling in the kitchen. I close my eyes and will away the kitchen island fantasy I came up with yesterday where Jace had me spread out like a Sunday brunch. I can’t keep doing this. If I masturbate anymore in the shower, Jace is going to plan an intervention. I always seem to see him immediately after I leave the bathroom, as if the evil puppeteer running my life put in a patent on a humiliation kink and is testing it out on me.

I only have two more days until I start my internship, and I’ve spent the last week preparing several articles that are relevant to local art, but I’m still nervous as hell. What if they aren’t good enough? What if I’m not good enough? It’s always the same with me. Always doubting myself. Never seeing myself as worthy. Wonder where that came from?

Thanks, Mom.

I have nothing else left to do to prepare aside from picking out my clothes, so I grab my phone to call Jess.

“Hey!”

“I need help,” I whine.

“Why? What’s wrong? Did Jace make you cry? I swear I told him to—”

“No, it’s not that. Jace is fine.” I wave my hand flippantly toward the door. “Well, Jace is Jace.” I walk to the closet and peruse my options. “Anyway, I start work on Monday, and I don’t know what to wear.”

“On my way.”

“You’re the best,” I exclaim, hanging up.

I tiptoe to the kitchen, hoping Jace isn’t in there, wearing nothing but an apron like he is in my fantasy. And no, the irony ofmenow avoidinghimisn’t lost on me. I don’t hear any music coming from the gym, but the kitchen is empty. I ready a pot of coffee and set out some flavored syrups.

Exactly one day. That’s as long as I’ve ever been able to stay mad at Jess. Even in the eighth grade, when she kissed Justin Mackey, knowing I liked him. All she has to do is flash a pitiful face with her icy blue eyes—just like Jace’s, of course–shimmering with tears, and I cave.Just like a man.Of course, Justin wanted to kiss her. She’s gorgeous. Any boy would be crazy not to try to land Jessalyn Lancaster. I paled in comparison to her. Always have.

But it wasn’t just her teary eyes that made me forgive her. She has the biggest heart. And she was my friend from day one. She never cared that I was poor or didn’t wear designer clothes like all the other kids. She saw me for me. She’s the best friend I could ever ask for and would never intentionally hurt me.

I now understand why she dropped me off here and pushed for me to stay. And I understand even more about Jace than she does. She wasn’t trying to get rid of me. She said as much in the beginning, but I didn’t understand what she meant at the time. Jess was right to be worried, and I wish he would trust her with his secrets. I can’t be the one to tell her what’s going on. It isn’t my news to share. But I can stay and do my best to help him.

The fact that she trusted me to be the one watching out for him means more to me than I can even express. I owe her that. Hell, I owe her whole family more than that. Whether they’re aware of it or not, they were more of a family to me than I’ve ever had. The least I can do is stay and help as long as I’m needed or wanted.

He may decide he wants me gone tomorrow. Lord knows I’d be humiliated if I shared something as personal as Jace had. Maybe that’s why I’m avoiding him. Giving him some time and space to resign himself to the fact that I know all his secrets.

No, it’s definitely the Sunday brunch thing.

And the virgin thing.

I feel terrible for reacting the way I did. The last thing I want is for him to feel shamed by it. I almost slipped up a few times because,Hello? Jace is a virgin?But since the initial conversation, I’ve tried to act normal around him, hoping it would ease his mind. I don’t want him to think I’m walking around thinking about his virgin status, but that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Holy shit, Jace is a virgin!

I think I’ve said it enough times in my head that the bewilderment should start to wear off.

Nope, still there.

At least I can hide it well. Years of being bullied means I’ve perfected the mask I show the world. But the Lancasters have always had my back. So now I owe them this. Well, Jess, at least. I doubt if the others even know or care. Jess cared enough to risk hurting my feelings by dumping me here with little to no explanation. That tells me all I need to know. She would never hurt me, or anyone, intentionally. Jace is important to her.

So here I am, my face showing nothing, while screams erupt in my head. No, I’m not going to say it again.

Oh, it burns a little to hold it in.Jace is a virgin!

Okay, last time.

I don’t know why I’m so fascinated by that. I guess the thought of him never being touched by anyone is a... relief? I don’t know why it would be. He isn’t mine. Never has been. And I’ve been with other people. Maybe it’s the thought of being the one to break through. The one that gets him to drop his guard. The one he allows to teach him—to show him how good physical touch can be. I don’t know if that's even a possibility, but the images in my head are making me all kinds of tingly.

Jace holding himself over me as I guide him deep inside. His abs—which I’m sure he has, even though I haven’t actually seen them—flexing as he pounds into me. My nails raking down his back as his hips thrust harder and faster. My head thrown back as a moan falls off my lips—

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