I found Scottie confusing because he was such a mixture of things. He could be standoffish and strangely open at the same time. I found myself wanting something more with him, while still not even knowing what that could be. I had no illusions that having sex with me had cured him of his mistrust of people, and it wasn’t like I’d been looking for any kind of real relationship either. But there was no denying that we had some sort of emotional and physical connection. We seemed embroiled in something, whether either of us had gone searching for it or not.
When Scottie drifted off to sleep it surprised me. But I liked that he felt safe enough with me to let go and rest. Even though my arm was trapped beneath him, and had gone numb about fifteen minutes ago, I didn’t want to move and disturb him. When he finally stirred, he stretched, and then his eyes snapped open and he sat up as if confused about where he was.
“Morning.” I rubbed my arm, wincing against the stinging pins-and-needles sensation of the blood coming back into the capillaries.
He slid his wary gaze to me. “What time is it?”
“Just after four in the morning.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
He started to throw back the covers, and I grabbed his wrist. “What are you doing?” I frowned.
“I’m going home.” He sounded matter-of-fact. “I’m sorry. I was just going to rest my eyes.”
“Scottie, you aren’t going home at four in the morning. You’ve stayed this long, wait until it’s light out.”
“I can’t do that.” His mouth was a straight line, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Why?”
“Because.”
I sighed. “There’s no reason to run off. Who the hell rides the subway this time of the morning if they don’t have to?” I shook my head. “You’re not putting me out by staying.”
He finally met my eyes. “You don’t think it’s weird to spend the night when we hardly know each other?”
I leaned toward him. “We had sex. It doesn’t get much more intimate than that.”
“I know… but spending the night.” He grimaced. “That’s a whole other thing.”
I held up my hands. “Look, I want you to stay. But if you’re sick of my company already, then feel free to take off.” It bugged me a little he was making such a big deal about staying until the sun came up. It wasn’t like I’d asked him to marry me.
He hesitated, and then he peeked under the covers. “I… I guess I’ll stay a while longer. But can I at least get a pair of boxers or something?”
I grinned. “If you insist. I prefer you the way you are.”
His face flushed and he pulled the sheet up to his chin.
I laughed outright at his shy act. “Now you’re bashful?” I took pity on him because I could see he truly did seem uncomfortable. I got out of the warm bed and found him a clean pair of boxers. I tossed them at him, and he slipped the underwear on. “Better?”
“Much.” He lay on his side and rested his head on his palm.
Since he was being so prudish, I decided to put on a pair of briefs too, and then I got under the covers again. I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling, but I could feel his gaze on me. I turned by head toward him. “What?”
“I’m trying to figure out how I ended up in your bed.”
“Hey, I was more surprised than you.” I chuffed.
“I think it was because you were so cool about… everything.”
I frowned. “You mean your scar?”
His mouth tightened. “Scars. Plural.”
I’d counted four total, including the one on his jaw. I was dying to know what had happened. But I was afraid to ask him because he’d already said he didn’t want to talk about it.
He sighed. “I know you’re curious.”
I shrugged. “Of course I am.” I turned toward him, and his entire body stiffened. “I’m not going to push you to tell me. Obviously I wish you would because every little bit you share with me lets me see more of who you are.” His expression remained guarded. “But I understand if you’re not ready.”
“It was hard enough having to tell the police and my lawyer.” He looked like he felt sick. “In the long run, I shouldn’t have bothered.”
“What do you mean?”
He surprised me when he reached out suddenly and grabbed my wrist. “I don’t want you to see me as some wimpy victim.”
“Why would I?”
“Because I was attacked.”
“That’s not your fault.”
He wrinkled his brow. “Plus I lost my case.”
“How is that possible?” There was no way those scars had been accidental cuts. When his face tightened, I sighed. “Never mind.”
He squeezed my wrist. “I’m not trying to be a jerk.”
“I know.”
He let go of my arm. “Is this just a one-night stand?” His eyes glittered in the dim light.
I’d been waiting for him to tell me what he wanted, and that wasn’t really like me. I hoped it wasn’t a one-off, but as skittish as he seemed sometimes, I’d half expected him to bolt as soon as we’d finished. “This can be whatever you want it to be.”
“You’re giving me all the power?”
“I guess I am.”
“Do you usually let the other guy call the shots?”
I laughed. “Nope.”
“Interesting.” He had a funny little smile. “This was awfully good to just do once.”
“I agree.”
“What would we be… friends with benefits?” He hid his expression with his thick lashes.
“Sure.” I kept my tone casual, although I was excited at the idea he wanted to see me again.
“You probably get hit on all the time at your work.” His gaze was emotionless, and if not for the nervous flick of his finger back and forth over the sheet, I’d have thought he was cool as a cucumber. But that little nervous tick gave him away.
I shrugged. “I get my fair share of attention.”
“Does your mom approve of your job?” He looked more relaxed than when we’d been talking about him earlier.
“Not really. She doesn’t nag me as much as she used to, but she wants me to go back to school and finish my business degree.” I laughed. “I will one day. But I have to get in the right head space. I wasn’t a very good student. I started college late, and I didn’t really focus well. But I only have like eight units left.”
He widened his eyes. “Why wouldn’t you just have finished already?”
I grimaced. “My dad got sick three years ago, and I quit to help my mom take care of him.” The memories of that gut-wrenching time assaulted me momentarily. I never liked to think about my dad the way he’d looked in the hospital. I preferred to remember him as the robust, powerful dynamo of a man he’d always been before the lung cancer took him down.
“Oh.” He frowned. “Did he get well?”
“No. He died.”
“Shit.” He touched my arm again. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“Here I am asking you all this personal stuff, and I won’t share much from my past with you.”
“I don’t mind telling you.” It was true. For some reason sharing this personal information with Scottie wasn’t bothering me.
“Why don’t you mind?” He looked puzzled.
I gave a stiff laugh. “I have no idea.” I hesitated. “Almost nothing about you bothers me.”
He snapped his gaze to mine. “Almost?”
I shrugged. “It’s no secret that I wish you’d be more open with me.”
Scrunching his face in distaste he said, “I told you earlier, I don’t want you to see me as weak.”
“I think you’re underestimating me. But, hey, that’s your call.” I felt a little annoyed with him. Even though I’d said he could open up to me in his own time, it did bother me he obviously didn’t trust me.
“It’s not a time of my life I like to revisit.” His expression was guarded.
“I get it.”
“Do you?”
“Yep.” I rolled onto my back.
“You can’t force me to talk.” Now he sounded irritable.
“I’m well aware of that. But I’m not quite sure what you’re so afraid I’ll do with the info. You think I’m going to post it on Twitter or something?”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious. If you tell me something private, I wouldn’t share it with anyone.”
“You seem to think I don’t want to talk about my past because I don’t trust you, but that isn’t it. I don’t enjoy talking about it because I hate thinking about it. It depresses me.”
I exhaled roughly. “Okay. I understand.”
“So you keep saying, but then you seem annoyed when I don’t share.”
I bristled. “Excuse me for caring. You know, you should be flattered. I don’t usually give a shit about the guys I fuck.”
“That’s not exactly something you should be proud of.”
“Who said I was proud of it?”
“You seem to like to brag about how many guys you fuck. I get it. I’m one of many. You should install a revolving door in your bedroom, that way you could get guys in and out faster.”
I gave him an angry glance. “Excuse me?”
His eyes were hard. “Am I wrong?”
“You came on to me tonight.” I huffed. “I suggested a movie and you put your hands down my pants.”
“And true to form you didn’t turn down an easy screw.”
I sat up and threw back the covers. “You know what? Fuck you, Scottie.” I stood. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you. You want to judge me, then go for it.” I left the bedroom feeling hurt and angry. I’d tried so hard to be kind to him, but maybe he was just too fucked-up to recognize that.
I went into the kitchen and started making coffee. My hands shook because I was frustrated and disappointed. I’d really wanted to see him again so we could see if there was anything more between us than just sex. However, even though I was no expert at relationships, I knew enough to know that if every time he felt cornered he was going to call me a slut, things weren’t going to go any further. Because, whether I liked the guy or not, I had enough self-respect to not put up with that.
I heard a sound behind me, and when I turned, he was there in my boxers and his wrinkled shirt. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He looked pale and nervous.
“If you’re leaving you’ll need to put on some pants.” I shook my head and turned on the burr grinder. When it stopped, I dumped the coffee into the filter.
“I said I was sorry.”
I faced him. “For calling me a slut?”
“Obviously.”
I swallowed hard. “I don’t understand why you think it’s cool to talk to me that way.”
He dropped his gaze, and he looked embarrassed. “I just…” He licked his lips. “I don’t know how to be normal.”
“I get that you’re socially awkward. But how do you go from that to calling me names?”
“I know. That’s why I’m apologizing.”
“Okay. Well, I accept your apology.”
“Are you sure about that? You still sound pissed.”
I exhaled roughly. “That’s because you frustrate the shit out of me, Scottie. I’m trying really hard to be kind to you. But I have my own issues to work through, and if you think so little of me, then it’s not healthy to be around you.”
His eyes glistened. “I don’t know why I said that to you. It was just… I’m shocked by how much I like you.” He grimaced. “I started thinking how cool you are, and then it occurred to me that you could have anyone you wanted. Why would you have any interest in me?” He rubbed his eyes with both hands roughly. “Fuck. I don’t want to act like this.”
His shaky words got to me. He looked miserable, and once again that annoying protectiveness toward him came over me. “You’re overthinking this. You should just relax and go with it.”
He gave a hard laugh. “Easier said than done when you’re me.”
I sighed. “I want to see more of you. The only question is do you want that too, or is this all too much for you?”
He leaned against the counter as if he needed its strength to stand. “I don’t want to be trapped in the past. What happened to me is the past.” He looked up and his mouth was scrunched in distaste. “Talking about it makes it real. Do you understand?” His voice shook. “I don’t want it to be real.”
I couldn’t take the sight of him looking wilted and lost, so I crossed the space between us and I hugged him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and he pressed his face into my chest. I kissed his soft hair. “It’s okay.” I squeezed him tighter. “You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“A part of me wants to blurt it all out, because then maybe you’ll understand and forgive me for being so fucked-up.” His breath was warm against my skin. “But mostly I just don’t want to think about it.”
“Then don’t. It’s fine.” It was obvious just the idea of revisiting his painful memories was almost too much for him. I didn’t want to torture the poor guy.
“My lawyer said put it behind me. Pretend it never happened,” he whispered. “But then this shrink I saw once told me that not talking about it gave it power over me.” He pulled back and his bloodshot gaze searched my face. “Do you think that’s true?”
My stomach hurt looking at the fear and guilt on his face. “I don’t know.”
He exhaled. “Maybe I should tell you. Maybe nothing could be worse than holding this shit inside.”
“Tell me or don’t. Either way I want to keep seeing you.” I held his gaze, picking my words carefully. “I really like you. I wanted you to open up to me because I thought it would make you feel closer to me. Because I want that. But not if it upsets you.”
A tentative smile spread over his weary features. “You’re an awfully nice guy.”
“I’m not that nice.”
He took a step back from me. “So what do we do now?”
“Let’s just take it one day at a time. No labels for now.”
He looked relieved. “Okay, I can do that.”
I turned back to the coffee maker so he couldn’t see how grateful I was he wanted to keep seeing me. “You want some coffee?”
“Okay.” He stood beside me, and his features seemed more relaxed.
“Thanks for apologizing.”
He winced. “Well, what kind of guest calls their host a slut and expects to be asked back?”
“You sure you want to be asked back?” I held my breath.
He looked up with a shy smile. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” I felt lighthearted all at once. “Then let’s sit out on the patio with our coffee and watch the sunrise.”
“Sounds good.” He sighed and followed me to the french doors that led outside. “Hey, Lance?”
I glanced at him as I unlocked the patio door. “Yeah?”
“This has been the best night I’ve had in five years.” His gaze was sincere.
I smiled and winked at him. “Then I’m really glad you put your hands down my pants.”
He grinned and we went outside to greet the pink-and-yellow sunrise.