Page 97 of The Cabin

“I know but those were all circumstantial examples. Where we were the only two people around. I understand that those interactions turned you on, I just also know that you wouldn’t have been interested in me if it was a different situation and we just met on the street or something. Or if there were other options up here.”

“You are so freaking beautiful, but you’re acting so fucking silly right now.” I’ve heard that one before.

“I’m just being realistic, Grayson. I know how things work. I’m just trying to tell you I understand the true nature of this and that I won’t push any of your boundaries. And that I will do better about showing you that I like hooking up with you.”

“How many people were trying to flirt with me at the bar? The one we went to up here?”

I roll my eyes, “Please don’t remind me…”

He bumps his knee into me, pushing me. “How many?”

“I don’t know…like a hundred?”

“And who did I go home with that night?”

“Grayson –”

He nudges me again, “Who?”

“Me.” I mumble under my breath.

“And who slept in my bed? In my shirt? Myboxers.”

Long pause, begrudging admission. “Me.”

“Exactly. Sol, I live in New York. I have a million friends who could’ve set me up with someone if I had wanted, or needed, a rebound. But I didn’t text any of them. I sat in my hotel room missing you. The way you moan my name. The way you come apart in my arms, on my tongue, on my fingers.”

“Okay, sure. Yes, fine. I believe you.”

I’m very aware he’s not buying that.

Grayson runs his fingers through the ends of my hair and holds me close. “There’s more. There’s more that you’re holding back. That you’re not telling me.”

I slam my head into my chest. “Could you like, pause knowing me so well?”

He laughs and places a kiss on the top of my hair. “No, sorry.”

There is more. Obviously, there’s more. There are two big ‘mores’. The first is an extremely important ‘more’ that I’ve been too chicken to bring up. And the other one of those ‘mores’ is a lot more terrifying and could ruin everything. I can give him the first one. It’s not everything, but it is way overdue.

Deep breath. Okay.

I sit up, pulling the covers with me. This isn’t really a ‘tits out’ kind of conversation.

“I owe you a very serious apology.”

He sits up too, “Sol, for what? There’s nothing to apologize for. I know you were scared to initiate, it’s okay. I just needed some confirmation that you actually wanted this and I wasn’t forcing you into anything.”

I shake my head, “No, not that. Um. Fuck.” I whisper the last part. Get it together. This isn’t about you. I grab one of his hands. “Grayson, I am so incredibly sorry about what happened at the hotel. It was so beyond uncalled for and inappropriate. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable or feel unsafe. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t considering how my actions could affect you. I, of course, had absolutely zero intention of hitting you. But, I know it could seem like that in the moment and I am so sorry.”

“Sol, hey, you don’t have to –”

I squeeze his hand. “That wasn’t the only time. I have been so selfish and I brushed off certain reactions of yours as just weird idiosyncrasies or something. You told me your story and I value that more than I can possibly express. And I didn’t respect the risk you took, the bravery you showed in sharing things with me. And I am horrified by that. Ever since the night at the hotel I’ve been going through our interactions and I know I fucked up a lot. I keep replaying the night you carried me out of the bar when I was banging on your back. You tensed up and had to ask me to stop. That is not okay. And I’m really sorry, Grayson. It will not, under any circumstances, happen again.” I make sure to meet his eyes when I say the last line even though it makes me feel nauseous. It doesn’t matter how being vulnerable makes me feel. I hurt him and he is so freaking important to me.

It’s then that I notice the tear slip down his cheek. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

I climb into his lap and hold his face. “Hey, no, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you upset.” My fingers catch his tears before I pull him into my chest, setting my chin on top of his head. I feel him start to play with the ends of my hair again. I just hold him like that, rocking a little. He’s not crying, really, just taking a minute.

When he pulls back, he wipes his face and grabs my thighs. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, “Um. It’s just…sheactuallyhit me. Like to hurt me…and she never, um…no one’s ever apologized to me for it.” He pauses, closes his eyes for a second or two. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me, Sol. And it means a lot that you…that you even care enough to say something even when you really didn’t have to. She…I didn’t get that.”

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