REBECCA
I want to reach out and pull the words back into my mouth. But they are out there now, and Graden looks like I just slapped him across the face.
“You’re a virgin?”
Like, is this the worst thing in the world or something? I mean, it’s a little annoying to me, but why is this some big issue for him? “Never mind. It’s not a big deal.”
“Were you going to give it to him?”
Now I feel like the one who got slapped. It? Crass much? “Maybe I was. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Trent didn’t want it. Nobody wants it.” And I am making this hole so much deeper than it needs to be. But hey…I can crawl into it and hide now.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
He leans back against the cushion. “Why are you still a virgin? Why were you going to give it to him? Why nobody else? I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”
I want to tell him it’s none of his business. But I guess I made it his business when I told him. “In high school, I wasn’t ready when the rest of my friends were. In college, I don’t know…I was still sad about my brother, and then I was just too busy to worry much about guys. And now it sort of feels like this anchor. Like something I want to get rid of. But then again, I’ve waited this long, so it feels like I should at least be serious about someone. At the very least, third date material. Except, I can’t seem to get a second date. Which means no third date.” I cover my face again. This is too much. Graden does not need to know this.
He pulls my hands back down. He’s shifted so he’s hovering a little so he can keep my wrists at my side. “Why?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. At first I thought it was my body.” I look down at my obvious curves. My many obvious curves.
“There is nothing wrong with your body.”
I shrug. “I know I’m not skinny. And I get asked out on first dates, so I don’t know, some guys like their women plump, I guess. But everything just fizzles out on the dates. Sometimes I know it’s not going anywhere, so I don’t expect a call, or I ask them not to call. But lately, I’ve been willing to at least try date number two…but it never surfaces. Maybe they can smell my desperation.” I look into his dark eyes. They are so intense. So focused on me. I have to swallow hard. My throat feels tight. “Do I smell desperate to you?”
I tilt my head to look at him. His face is close. I can feel the heat of his skin. His breath on me. The world pauses for a second until he blinks like he’s waking up. “You smell like cookies to me.”
I inhale sharply. His words kiss something inside me, and my belly tightens.
“Cookies?”
“Yeah. You smell good, babe.”
I have to laugh a little. He doesn’t pay compliments like most people. But you never have to wonder if he means what he says. There’s nothing artificial in his words. Ever. If he says I smell like cookies, that means he likes how I smell because I’ve seen how much he likes cookies.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Graden.” Sometimes I wonder what I’d do with him, if given the chance. Graden is like every dream, every fantasy, I’ve ever had rolled into one extra-large, extra-handsome package. Nothing about him is soft or sweet at first glance. He’s big, beastly really. Every muscle comes from hard work. But the sweetness is there, under the rough exterior.
He thinks of me like a little sister, though. And I just worship him from afar. If I can’t get a guy like Trent, there’s no way I could get a guy like Graden. I don’t know the kind of women he dates, but I can guess. Not chubby girls who teach kindergarten who’ve never seen a penis up close that wasn’t on a porn site.
So, yeah, getting distracted now.
“Well, there are worse things to smell like than cookies,” I say. “But then I still don’t know what’s wrong with me. All I've ever really wanted was a family of my own, and maybe that's the problem. Even though I don't wear a sign that says, "I want to get married and have your babies," that's what they sense. But I don't want to just jump into a committed relationship any more than they do. I just want to see where things could go.” I pat his knee. “I really am going to go lay down for a while. I think I need comfy clothes and Mr. Darcy.”
“Who is Mr. Darcy?”
I roll my eyes. “Pride and Prejudice." He looks at me blankly. "Jane Austen. None of that rings a bell?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.” He stops me from getting up. Just thrusts one well-muscled arm out. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
“I just need to be alone. I’ll be fine.” Is it wrong that something about his forceful hold on me makes me press my legs together? It’s…hot. Maybe my alone time will include some…me time.
“Bring the movie out here. We’ll watch it together.” I start laughing. “What?” he asks. He looks so serious. And seriously confused.
“I don’t think it’s your kind of flick.”
“Bring it out.”
“You’ll hate it.”
“If you like it, I’ll like it.”
“No, you won’t. But okay. I’m feeling just mean enough to make you sit through it.