On the half an hour drive over to his house, I discover that Finn and I have a lot in common. We both love the 90’s boy band N’Sync, the Cuban dish of mango and rice, and dark chocolate. His favorite grade in school was third grade, and he hated eleventh grade so much, he almost dropped out. I told him that high school wasn’t the best for me either, but I loved college. I had debated going to a large university like the University of Southern California, where my sister went, but I now think that Oberlin College was the perfect fit for me.

“What is it in particular that you liked about Oberlin?” Finn asks me as we pull into his driveway.

“It was just the right size. I’m not as outgoing as Lila, and I know that I would’ve gotten lost in a larger school. Oberlin also focused on the liberal arts, and it really taught me how to think critically and reason. I think that’s really important in today’s day and age. Especially since our world is so technological.”

“You know, I agree with you. I mean, math and science education is very valuable, especially if kids are taught computers and how to write code and stuff like that. But there’s nothing more liberating than reading fiction or philosophy or drama. It really enriches the experience of being a human being,” Finn says.

I turn to him. I hate to admit it, but a big part of me is surprised that those words are coming out of his mouth. Perhaps I thought that he was too pretty to be actually smart, as well.

I follow Finn up the steps through the double doors of his house. He says hello to the chef, introduces me and leads me to the dining room. The sun is just setting over the horizon, and all of LA is illuminated in bright colors of orange and yellow below us. I take a moment to catch my breath.

“Do you ever regret not going to college?” I finally ask.

“Sometimes. Well, no, that’s a lie. I regret it a lot, actually. But when I finished high school with my private tutor, my career was just taking off. I was getting a lot of interesting offers, and I wanted to pursue it whole-heartedly. But I’ve regretted it so much that I’m actually taking courses now.”

“You are? What kind?”

“Online courses. I’m doing my bachelor’s degree in liberal arts at Western New Mexico University. It’s an individualized program that allows me to study pretty much whatever I want. I think I’m going to do a double major in English and Philosophy.”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing.”

“Thanks. It has been really challenging and educational. And the best part of doing it online is that the people in my class and most of my professors don’t know who I am. I don’t want to be one of those self-centered actors that say how difficult fame is, blah, blah, blah. But it has its challenges, and one of those challenges is that it’s difficult to know how people actually feel about you. My online courses allow me to have this private life, which I never thought would be possible.”

“That’s really great, Finn. I’m really proud of you,” I say, putting my hand on his.

“Chloe, I’ve never told anyone about this program before. Well, outside of my really close friends and family. Ariel didn’t even know about it.”

“Your ex-girlfriend?” I ask. He nods.

“Why not?”

“It didn’t feel like the right thing to share with her. I didn’t feel comfortable. But with you…I don’t know, it’s different.”

I nod. “Well, your secret is safe with me,” I say.

“Yes, I know. That’s what scares me.”

I look around the table. The table is covered in a crisp white, linen tablecloth. The dining room has seating for eight, but instead of sitting on either end of it, our place settings are put next to each other. Finn sits at the head, and I sit next to him. A beautiful centerpiece of wildflowers separates us, creating a romantic ambience. A waiter comes around and lights the two thick candles next to the centerpiece and asks what we would like to drink.

“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “I don’t even know what we’re having.”

“Do you mind if I order for you?”

I shake my head no.

“We’ll have two glasses of Pinot Noir,” he says quickly. After the waiter leaves, Finn turns to me and explains, “We’re having vegetarian dishes for dinner and dry roses made from traditional red wine grapes go well with a variety of vegetarian dishes without overpowering the fresh flavors.”

“Vegetarian, huh? Are you a vegetarian?” I ask.

“No, not entirely. But I’m really trying to eat healthier, so I thought this might be a good choice. Do you like vegetarian food?”

How can I put this tactfully? No, not really. My idea of vegetarian food is Caesar salad, and I can’t have Caesar salad for the rest of my life. Of course, I’ve heard that there is a lot of variety in vegetarian food, but I’m rather uneducated about the whole thing. Besides, there’s no way that it can taste as good as chicken or a burger, right?

“I haven’t had that much to tell you the truth. Besides salad,” I say. “Is there any reason why you’re trying to eat healthier?”

He shrugs, looks away. “Well, I might as well tell you, I guess. But please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

I nod.

“My mom was recently diagnosed with lung cancer. She never really smoked, except for a few years in the 70s. I started reading about it, and apparently a lot of red meat causes cancer and so do sugars and carbohydrates. Besides getting chemo, my mom is starting this intense natural food program…it’s basically a raw vegan diet. And she needs support, so I agreed to do it along with her.”

“Wow, that’s intense,” I say. I’m taken aback by his frankness and openness. I look at his face. It has graced the covers of numerous magazines. It feels as familiar as a photo of any of my family members, but there always seemed to be a distance between the person in the photo and the guy I knew from work. Except now. The distance between us is quickly disappearing.

“Thank you for telling me that. I had read about that too. But you know how it is, I always think that nothing like this will ever affect me. Or least, not for a while. I can always start to eat healthier later.”

“I used to think that too. But with my mom’s diagnosis, it really came front and center. It just put everything in perspective for me.”

The waiter comes back with a platter and one plate of food on it.

“For the first course, toast with fava beans, an avocado spread and pea shoots,” he says and walks away.

“Wow, this is delicious,” I say. I don’t really know what fava beans are, but they are a perfect complement to the avocado spread and pea shoots.

As we continue to chat about his mom, the rest of our food arrives. For the main course, we are served a lentil and pineapple salad with olive oil and fruit vinegar, vegetable barley soup and kale risotto with spicy tofu pieces. The food is fresh and light, and it fills me up to the point that I feel like I’m going to explode.

“We have a choice of deserts,” the waiter says after clearing our plates. When he looks at me, the expression on his face changes drastically.

“I’m sorry,” I say before he has the chance to ask me what’s wrong. “But I ate a little too much, and I’m going to have to pass on the desert.”

Finn smiles and tells him that we’ll have dessert a little later.

“That happens to me a lot,” he says. “Vegetables can be quite deceptive. They have the tendency to fill you up way more than you’d think.”

“That’s quite an understatement,” I say.

* * *

After dinner, we walk out onto the patio for a breath of fresh air. Darkness has settled over the City of Angels. Instead of standing there on the edge of his patio, something suddenly comes over me. I put my foot on the first rung of the railing and climb up.

“What are you doing?” Finn asks, mildly amused.

“This view is unbelievable,” I say. “It makes me want to see even more of it.”

Two more steps up and I’m walking along the top of the railing.

“You’re crazy,” he whispers.

“I feel crazy.”

Not just crazy. Insane. What am I doing? I don’t know what’s come over me. On top of this being somewhat unsafe (I did have two glasses of wine and I am wearing heels), it’s also somewhat disrespectful to his property. But neither of these things occur to me in the moment. No, in this moment, I feel like a bird. Free. Unencumbered. Completely without responsibilities. Then…oh no, this isn’t happening. I stumbling. I step on my heel the wrong way, and it breaks, causing me to fall backwards.

“Chloe! Watch out!” Finn says, a little bit too late. He manages to break my fall a little bit, by grabbing my arm, but it’s a little too late. It all happens very fast – one second I’m falling and the next I’m in his arms. We’re both on the ground. I’m on top of him. He’s grasping me, holding on to me. I can feel his heart thumping through me. He smells of lavender and wine.

“You’re okay,” Finn says, over and over. As if he’s willing me to be okay.

“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Finn helps me up. He has one arm around my waist, and he pulls me tighter to him as we stand up. I look up at him. Slowly, he traces his fingers around the outline of my face. He starts at my jawline and runs his fingers liberally around my mouth. I stare into his eyes, holding my breath. When his fingers tug at my lower lip, my mouth falls open and I exhale.

Finn closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He leans closer to me and parts my mouth again with his finger. Only this time, he presses his lips to mine. A small explosion goes off within my body. I kiss him back, and our tongues intertwine. I bury my hands in his hair and pull on it until he gives off a moan.

We kiss for a long time. Make out, is more like it. We can’t get enough of each other. Our hands run liberally over each other’s bodies, but the clothes remain in place. Every time his hands skirt past my breasts and round their way to the small of my back, the place in between my legs gets hotter and hotter.

Then suddenly, Finn pulls away.

“Will you come with me?” he asks looking deep into my eyes.

I nod. He takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom. We walk what seems like thousands of acres of land to get there. The house is much bigger than I remember. I have trouble hiding my anticipation of seeing his bedroom. Of being in his bedroom with Finn. Only this time, it’s not Finn Dalton’s bedroom that I crave. But Finn. My Finn. The guy who shared all of those things with me. The guy who makes my legs feel limp. The man who sends shivers up my back with the touch of his hand.

As soon as we enter his bedroom, he locks the door and lunges at me, pushing me against the wall. Both of his hands are pressing my head against the wall and pinning me in place. He presses his lips onto mine, and pushes his tongue into my mouth. The passion is sweeping me away. I moan, giving his tongue more freedom to roam. His body presses against mine and I feel his erection against my stomach. It seems to be growing in size with each movement.

“You, taste too good,” he mumbles through the kisses. My heart rate is through the roof.

But suddenly, I pull away. I have to tell him something. It’s only fair. Something I’ve never told anyone before.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

I straighten out my clothes. Wipe my mouth. I push him away from me and walk toward the center of the vast room. The floor-to-ceiling windows lining one side of the wall put me at ease.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” I say quietly. He waits. “There’s a reason why I hadn’t dated anyone for a while. It’s difficult to talk about. But I think you should know.”

Finn looks at me, doesn’t say another word. I turn away from him. Even though I’m telling him this, I can’t say it to his face.

“Something happened to me with my ex-boyfriend. The last time we were together, the last time I had sex, was more than 2 years ago. Because…”

Come on, Chloe. Get it together. You can say it. It’s just a word. Nothing to be afraid of. You’ve used it at the therapist’s a million times before.

“I was raped. He raped me. And that’s why I hadn’t dated anyone since then. And why I haven’t slept with anyone for such a long time.”

I mention a few details. But not all. It was after college. We had been having sex for a while. And yet, that night I didn’t want to. He insisted. At first, I thought he was just joking. I kept protesting. Then I realized that he wasn’t. He had too much drink, but that wasn’t an excuse. At first, I didn’t want to report the incident. He was my boyfriend, after all. But after not being able to sleep for days, I went to a therapist and she helped me make a report. There was a trial. I testified. He was convicted. The prosecutor called me ‘brave,’ said that it was important to do this for women everywhere. But I didn’t feel like a hero.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he puts his arm around me. I nod and accept his sympathy. Even though it’s incredibly hard. He’s the first person I’ve ever shared this with.

We sit down on the bed. I turn to him. “But I just want to tell you that I’m fine. Really. I’ve had a lot of therapy. And I’m ready to put all that behind me. If that’s okay with you.” A small smile forms on Finn’s face.

“You really don’t have to. We can take things slowly.”

“I know. But…I want to,” I say. I don’t know if it has something to do with being a woman or going through what I’d gone through, but I have a hard time owning my feelings. Telling people exactly what I want. Especially, men. And yet, in this case, it feels totally natural.