Not in love

“A mutually agreed-upon, medium-or long-term romantic engagement. Dating, if you prefer.” He smiled the same grin I’d felt between my legs last night. What we’d done should have helped me metabolize him, but I was no closer to finding him uninteresting than I’d ever been. The opposite, if anything.

A silver coin refusing to oxidize, that’s what he was. A compulsive tingle hooked right in my belly.

“It’s none of my business,” he continued, “but I’d still love it if you told me.”

“No. You’re the first person I’ve been with more than once.”

His lip curled. “Sex is that good, huh?”

It’s because with you I never have to worry about being too odd, too unlikable, too out of tune. You never make me feel anything other than just right. But the sex was the best I’d ever had, so I simply said, “Yes.”

My soft honesty seemed to disarm him. His face fell, and his eyes darkened. “Come here,” he beckoned, just a flick of his fingers, and even though it meant betraying Florence, who’d given me the world, I did go. Let him pull me closer, into his chest.

“I believe,” he murmured against my ear, “I owe you something.”

“You can keep my underwear.”

“Not that.”

“What, then?”

“We said three times.”

A buzzing, warm static filled the air between us. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not . . .” It’s uncountable. You, and the things we do, the things you give me, the things you make me feel, they’re impossible to quantify. They are good in a way that goes beyond orgasms, and I can’t really keep track, or tick off checkboxes. It’s confusing. You are confusing. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” He filled the space between us. His mouth tasted of toothpaste and rainy mornings, his kiss at once shallow and intense, eager yet lingering. Not a we’re about to fuck kiss. Not a we just fucked kiss. Those were the extent of my experiences so far, so I wasn’t certain how to categorize this one.

Goodbye. Maybe it was a goodbye kiss.

He slowly pulled back. “You can’t go out like this, Rue.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re filthy. You need a shower, don’t you?”

“I’ll have one later.”

“Later?” His nose curled in distaste, and I frowned.

“Is that a problem?”

“I was about to take one.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. How hygienic of you. My fondest congratulations. I hope it’s everything you wish for. “Okay. I’m going to—”

“Join me.” His fingers braided with mine. “You have to shower at some point, don’t you? Might as well make it fun.” There was no way this was a good idea, and he must have seen it in my face, because he asked, “Why not?”

Because of Florence. Because you’re a bad person, doing bad things. Because you’re wrong, and against everything I stand for, and people could be hurt if they were to find out. Problem was, I didn’t want to say no. I also didn’t want to say yes, but it didn’t matter.

Judging by Eli’s smile, nodding seemed to suffice.