MAXIM

When I came out of the bathroom, Derek was already asleep, facing away from me on his side. Poor guy. I’d worn him out. He was going to be pretty sore tomorrow. Hopefully, he’d think it was worth it.

I climbed into bed and curled my body around his, slinging an arm around his waist. His skin was warm and smelled so good¸ I put my face at the side of his neck and inhaled deeply. Ocean and sex. Nothing better.

This weekend had been incredible. There wasn’t one moment I’d trade for anything, and there were some—like the way he’d held my hand tonight, the way his voice had trembled when he said he’d wanted to know what it was like to be mine, the way he’d offered himself to me in the most intimate and deeply personal way he could—those moments would stay with me forever. I’d felt so cherished and trusted and close to him.

Was it enough? Was I enough? He still refused to talk about the future. I’d been about to tell him how I felt when he derailed the conversation with sex. I couldn’t resist him when he got like that—hot and demanding—but where did that leave us? The sex was beyond amazing, but I wanted to hear him tell me what we had was worth more than that. That I was worth more than that.

Tonight when I was cleaning him up, I’d seen the look in his eyes. Surprise and gratitude and affection. With my hands on his chest, I’d felt the way his heart was beating. He’d liked being taken care of—it made him happy. He was always the one who rescued and protected and put others first, whether it was family or friends or even the animals he said Ellen was always foisting on him. What a relief it must have been to let himself be cared for that way, especially after what we’d done. I knew he hadn’t taken it lightly, and some part of him probably wondered if I’d look at him the same way I did before. If I’d see him as something less then perfect now that I’d seen him at his most vulnerable, his most honest, stripped down to nothing but his deepest needs.

The realization made me snuggle closer. Underneath his perfect exterior, Derek was human and wanted to be loved for who he was. He wanted to feel worthy of being loved. I wanted to know what it would be like to be yours. To belong to you, he’d said.

Acceptance.

He wanted to be accepted. The trouble was, it wasn’t my acceptance he needed.

It was his own.

* * *

Derek was quiet the next morning—and sore. I had to smile when he groaned getting out of bed.

“You okay?” I asked.

“No. Muscles I didn’t even know I had are screaming.” He limped toward the bathroom.

“Need help?”

“No. If I don’t come out, I’m dead and you killed me.”

“But was it worth it?”

At the bathroom door, he looked over his shoulder, his expression serious. “Fuck yes, it was.”

My grin widened. “Good.”

He didn’t die, and we went down to breakfast, during which he was mostly silent and distracted. I didn’t push him to talk, because I understood there were things he had to work out in his head, and he wasn’t the kind of guy to trust his gut, like I was. It was going to take some time.

* * *

“Want to watch a movie or something?” he asked later that evening, opening a bottle of wine. He’d gone to the gym when we got back from the beach, and it seemed to have improved his mood. We’d ordered pizza, and he’d even let me pay for it with my new credit card.

“Sure. What’s your favorite?”

He frowned. “I don’t know if you’ll like it. It’s not that well-known.”

“I don’t mind. I like all movies. What is it?”

“It’s this Woody Allen movie called Sweet and Lowdown about this guitar player in the 1930s. He’s kind of a mess. Super cocky because he’s so good, but haunted by the one guy in the world that’s better than he is. Then he falls in love with this girl who doesn’t speak.” He laughed. “I’m not describing it very well. But there’s something about it I love. It’s a great story, and it was cast perfectly.”

“I love great stories,” I told him, getting plates from the cupboard. “And Woody Allen is a fantastic writer. Let’s watch it.”

We ate dinner and watched the movie, pausing it only to take our dishes to the kitchen and put away the extra food when we were done eating. Returning to the couch, Derek turned off all the lights, pulled the ottoman close, and stretched out his legs. I sat next to him, giving him more space than I wanted to.

“Hey.” He put an arm around me. “Come over here.”

I gladly moved closer and melted into the curve of his body. Hope began to bubble through my concern.

We finished the movie, and I absolutely loved it. For one thing, one of the characters couldn’t speak, so her thoughts and feelings were communicated entirely by expression and gesture and nuance. As someone who struggles occasionally with language, I appreciated the brilliance of her performance.

And it gave me even more insight into Derek too. The film ended with the main character admitting he’d made a mistake about something—a critical decision that had caused his life to take a certain path, and there was no going back. He was going to suffer the consequences of that mistake forever. But there was an upside—his playing grew more beautiful, more emotional, every bit as good as his rival’s.

I wondered if something about that spoke to Derek, the idea of coming to a crossroads and making a choice, and even if you chose the path that caused you to suffer, you could find beauty or nobility in it.

Don’t let your mind run away from you. Maybe he just likes the movie.

I was still pondering it as the credits rolled. He turned the television and stereo off, but didn’t move.

And then, “Don’t go.”

Silence. Then I spoke.

“What?” Although I’d heard him fine.

“Don’t go. Tomorrow. Don’t move out.” His tone was one of quiet desperation.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to.”

It wasn’t that his words didn’t make me happy, but my gut said something was slightly off. “You don’t want me to?”

“No.” Both his arms came around me. “I like you here.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to—”

“It means I like you here. It means I loved being with you this weekend. I want to hold on to it.”

I so wanted this to mean he was arriving at a place of acceptance. But I wasn’t sure. I sat up and faced him, wishing I could see better in the dark. “So you want to…be together?”

“Like we have been. Yes.”

Like we have been. In secret. “You still want to hide?”

“Yes.” He said it like it was obvious. “And if you move out, we’ll never see each other.”

“So you want me to live here so that we can see each other in private, in the middle of the night?”

“You don’t enjoy our time together in the middle of the night?”

“Derek, it’s not that.” Fuck, arguing in my second language was hard. “It’s…it’s that it feels like a step backward. This weekend was so nice, being out in the open.”

“We can do that sometimes. Take trips.” He sat up too, and I could see the tension in his body by the way he fidgeted. “It just has to be somewhere people won’t know us.”

I shook my head. “How long do you think we could go on like that? Me living here, us taking trips…it will be obvious what’s going on within a short amount of time. Ellen isn’t stupid.”

Derek struggled to reply, and something occurred to me.

“You’re not planning on it lasting that long.”

“I didn’t say that.”

I scooted back, needing a little distance. “You’re still intent on a wife and kids. I’m just for fun?”

He didn’t answer fast enough, and I stood up.

“No, Derek. I don’t want that. You might think I’m just a kid, or a poor-ass immigrant, or someone just looking for a good time, but I’m not. And I don’t want to be your temporary toy while you keep looking for a woman.”

“What do you want?” He stood too. “A fucking ring?”

“No!” I took a deep breath. Getting angry at him wouldn’t help. “Look. I wasn’t looking for a relationship when I moved here. It was the furthest thing from my mind. I was prepared work really hard, as many hours as I had to every single day to make it in this country. And that’s what I’m doing. I don’t want to go backward.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he snapped.

“But you are.” I struggled with how to explain what I wanted to say. “I moved here for me. Because I have a dream for myself. Then I met you, and that dream changed.”

He moved toward me, but stopped, hands fisted at his sides. “How?”

“Now I find myself thinking about you and us as part of my dream. I came here to make a new life, and I want you to be part of it. Not in secret, like we’re ashamed of each other. Out in the open.”

He flinched. “I can’t.”

“Then I can’t, either. I don’t want to live two lives, Derek. One in public and one in private, neither of them one hundred percent me. And I don’t want to hide.” I lowered my voice even more. “I’ve lived that way already. It doesn’t feel good.”

He was silent.

“If you want to be somebody else for the rest of your life, go ahead. I don’t.”

“You don’t understand how hard this is for me,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s not about you.”

“Is that what you think?” I moved a step closer. I wanted him to see my face. “I’ve never felt like I was good enough for you. This feels like you’re agreeing with me. And that hurts.”

“It’s not that at all!” he burst out. “You’re everything to me. And the way you make me feel—no one has ever, ever made me feel those things before. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

“But you’re willing to give that up?”

“No! That’s why I’m asking you to stay.” He grabbed my head and sealed his mouth over mine, and the temptation to say fuck it, I’ll stay for this feeling nearly overwhelmed me. He pulled back a little. “Please don’t leave. You’re the only one who understands me.”

I hesitated, feeling like I was being ripped in two. “Then that should be worth something more than this.” Gently, I pushed his arms down and walked out of the room.

He didn’t come after me.

Upstairs, I got into bed, wishing I didn’t have to sleep here. It would be hard knowing Derek was right across the hall and hurting, especially when I knew I could take away the pain. But that would only be on the surface. Deep down, he’d never be at peace with himself if he didn’t live the way he felt. If I gave in, if I stayed, he’d only keep putting that off. He’d never let me love him the way I wanted to. He’d never really let me in, even if he loved me too.

Then he would leave me.

No. It would be foolish to stay. I had to walk away, for both of us. My only hope was that he’d miss what we had enough to change the way he thought. If he didn’t, I’d have to deal with the loss and move on.

But at least I’d have given us a real chance.

* * *

After a sleepless night, I waited until I heard Derek leave for work, then I packed up my meager belongings and ordered an Uber. I left the clothing he’d loaned me folded on the stripped guest room bed, his old laptop on the kitchen table, and the house key he’d given me on the counter next to a note.

Thank you for everything. I will always be grateful.

Maxim

My head felt cloudy from the lack of sleep, but I didn’t want to make coffee in his kitchen. I would get some breakfast somewhere eventually. Right now, I just wanted to leave. The memories were getting to me.

Right there is where he kissed me for the first time.

Right there is where I dropped to my knees.

Right there is the door he knocked on in the middle of the night.

Right there is where we argued and tumbled to the ground.

Right there is where he first tasted me.

Right there is where he said I want to fuck you.

Right there is where he asked me to stay the night in his bed.

Right there is where he left me a note that said you’re cute when you’re sleeping.

And right there…right there is where he stood when I walked away.

I went out to wait on the front porch, too restless and upset to stay inside, pulling the door shut behind me. It locked with a heartless click, and that was that.