Page 18 of That's Not a Thing

“What? Are you okay?” His words were breathy.

“Yeah, no. I just ...” I didn’t even know what to say. “It was just more than I expected. The whole thing of it. You just ...” I stalled, confused by my own reaction.

Wesley waited, one of his hands still resting against the wall beside my head.

“I guess you scare me,” I said.

Wesley’s eyes opened wide, and he took a big step back from me, as he seemed to struggle for a response.

“No, not like that,” I huffed. “Not like I’m afraid for my safety. This just feels really intense, and I’m not sure if I should be doing intense.”

He started to nod slowly, like he was trying to digest what I’d said, to process it. “So, you’re scared because it’s too good?” he asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

“Yeah, I guess. There’s just a lot going on in my life right now, and I’m not sure I have the capacity to handle whatever this is becoming.”

“Why sell yourself short before you’ve even tried? Why not see if I can prove you have greater capacities than you’ve ever realized?”

I picked up the washcloth from where he had dropped it on the floor while his hands had been all over me. I didn’t respond as I turned toward the mirror to start wiping at my forehead and thinking over what he had said. Did I want to do this? I hadn’t expected to shut him down, but the size of the feelings he evoked in me were more than I had bargained for. Still, maybe it would be nice to have another person to support me while I dealt with all my family concerns.

“How about,” he continued from behind me, “ifMis formaybe? Or you could go back into headstand mode and sayWis forwhy not...” He waited for my response.

The hand sanitizer was working wonders on the ink on my forehead, and I quickly finished wiping off the remnants of the letter. The glitter, on the other hand, looked like it was going to be a long-term project to remove. I wasn’t sure how to answer Wesley. I could already tell that if it ever came down to it, removing a guy like him from my soul would turn into a long-term project, too.

Chapter Eight

January 2017

When Aaron walks into my apartment on Sunday night following his thirty-six-hour shift at the hospital, I decide to tell him that I’m ready to move in together.

“You are?” he asks as he takes off his wool jacket and hangs it on the bright pink coat tree that he and I bought at a SoHo street fair last year. He is justifiably surprised after the extreme resistance I put forth mere days ago. I’m obviously not going to tell him that my new enthusiasm has anything to do with a concerted desire to marginalize Wesley, to make my relationship with Aaron stronger than ever before.

“I called the management company already, and they said I can break my lease with twenty-one days’ notice.” I’m nearly gloating as I flop down on the couch and sit cross-legged, waiting for him to join me. I am decidedly satisfied with my take-charge approach to solidifying our relationship.

“I’m not sure it’s a great idea.” His response surprises me. “Hang on.”

He disappears into my tiny kitchen, and I hear bottles clinking in the fridge. A moment later, he rematerializes with two open bottles of IPA in his hand and makes his way to the coffee table, where he sits down on the wooden surface, facing me.

“A few days ago, you were adamantly opposed.” He hands me one of the beers, takes a long sip of his, and continues. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to share my place with you, but not if a part of you still thinks it’s too soon.” He takes my free hand and runs his thumb against the glittering princess-cut diamond in my engagement ring. “We have a long future ahead of us, so there’s no need to rush.”

Yes, thereisa need to rush. But I can’t say that. I can’t say that I’m afraid that if I have too much space, I will be thinking about Wesley during all the moments when I should be thinking of Aaron.

“I want to. I don’t want you to have to schlep to my apartment after your long shifts downtown anymore. I love the idea of seeing you more. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I know what I’m saying, and, quite frankly, I’m getting totally seduced by the thought of your bigger bathroom. I mean, that tub alone ...” I raise my eyebrows.

Aaron studies me, his dark eyes searching my own, making sure I mean it. He knows I can be impulsive, and I appreciate him for pushing, for verifying that I’ve thought this through. He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, as he lets the beer bottle dangle next to his leg. He’s taller than Wesley, and broader, naturally muscular, built like the linebacker he once was. I realize that I’m comparing him to Wesley again, like I used to do when we first met, and I give myself a mental demerit for bad behavior. I have to do better. I will.

“How was the soup kitchen?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Ugh.” I stand and go to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of grapes, even though I’m not hungry.

“What? I know you used to love that place,” he calls from his post on the coffee table. “Is it so different?”

“No, there were just, well ...” I hear the hiss of the refrigerator seal snapping back into place as I walk back toward the couch, “It was unexpected, but Wesley was there.”

“Wesley Latner?TheWesley?”

“He started some sort of job training program up there a couple of months ago. We didn’t actually see each other, but it seems he is going to be a presence at Community Kitchen for the foreseeable future.” I drop onto the denim sofa, leaning back as I prop my feet on Aaron’s wide lap.

“You’re right—unexpected.” Aaron takes another long sip of his beer, and I watch his Adam’s apple rise and fall as he swallows. “Must be uncomfortable.” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, like he’s the one who’s uneasy. “But you can’t let him take something from you that you were excited about. It’s been a long time, and the awkwardness will dissipate eventually.” He’s silent for a moment, running his thumb over his bottom lip, and I can tell he has more to say. “Want me to go with you next week?”