Page 56 of Theta

I nod. "Totally crushed. The haircut, the dress, the bending over near you, the extra swish of my hips whenever I thought you were watching? Yeah. That was an all-out campaign to get your attention."

"Why did you not just…talk to me?"

"Why didn't you?" I counter.

"I was scared," he answers instantly.

“Well, so was I."

"Oh."

"I've always valued our friendship, Killy. So, so much. More than just about any other relationship in my life except Mom and Dad, I value you, and our friendship. That's what's made it so painful to be so attracted to you for so long. Having to suppress it because it would have been inappropriate at best, if not illegal or immoral, was…that wasn’t difficult. But as you grew into maturity and the age difference stopped mattering so much, it got harder and harder and more and more painful to want you so much. But I didn't think you liked me back, and I was so scared of losing your friendship as well as of being rejected that I just…I was never courageous enough to make a big move. I guess I hoped that if I…" I hesitate, tip my head side to side, "did a little flirty temptation in front of you to get your attention, you'd see that I liked you and you'd make the move so I didn't have to."

"And I just thought that was you being you."

I laugh. "I don't know how I feel about you thinking that my version of going all out to get your attention is just me being me."

"That I was an oblivious shithead."

I cackle out loud at this, and clap a hand over my mouth. "Noted."

He frowns, reaching down to pinch the outside of my buttock. "Hey, now. You were supposed to say, 'No, Killy, you're not a shithead.'"

I move my hand to his cheek. "You aren't. You were pretty remarkably oblivious, though."

"Here's a pro-tip, sweetheart: subtlety doesn't usually work on men."

"No shit." I let out a sigh, then. "Well, anyway. I went home terribly sad and depressed and crushed and feeling rejected and unattractive. Which sucked." I cover his mouth. "Not your fault, so don't even try to apologize. Point is, Jocko liked me right off the bat. I could just tell he was into me. And he was an attractive guy, had a good job, drove a nice car, had a nice place, he was nice to me, he liked me, he spent money on me, made me feel…" I shrug, not wanting to get emotional but knowing it's gonna happen anyway. “He made me feel attractive when I needed to feel that. So at first, for me, it wasn't supposed to be serious. But we kept going out on dates, and I realized I genuinely liked him, and that made me realize that you weren't ever going to see me like that, so I should just give it up. Move on. Up until then, I'd only really dated on a more casual basis." I bite my lip and look away, knowing he's gonna clock what I'm not saying.

"Story."

“I know, I know. Radical honesty. I only had one other relationship that I thought was going to be something like serious, and that was in med school. But that's the next part of me answering your question. Back to Jocko. I had stuff by then. Hangups and whatever. About you, about everything that happened with Everett, the guy from med school I’m gonna tell you about in a minute. And I didn't talk to Jocko about any of it. I wasn't open with him, or he with me. We just hung out and had fun, mostly. And yeah, by that I mean regular going out to concerts and stuff, as well as horizontal fun. It just sort of slowly morphed into a real relationship, and by the time I realized that he had some major issues that reacted negatively with my own, it was too late. He was possessive, and I need to feel safe and free. I don't see the point in going into everything that went wrong with Jocko because it’s all coming from the same place: he and I not discussing our issues when we realized things were getting serious."

"And it was serious?" he asks.

I nod. "Oh yeah. We talked about moving in together, but didn't, thank god. I really cared about him. I wasn't totally fair earlier—he's not really an asshole. He just has his own stuff that made him super insecure, and I’m not the type of person that can reassure him the way he needs."

"The jealousy as you described it did enter asshole territory, Story."

"Sure. But…" I wave my hands. "Not the point. Whether Jocko was an asshole or not is irrelevant. What's relevant is what I learned—don't let the past hamstring your future."

"Makes sense to me."

“So, Everett." I blink hard. "This is hard to talk about. But…so…god—where to start? Everett wasn't my first. But he was the first significant relationship I ever had. My previous boyfriends in high school and early college, before med school, they were all…casual. We both knew it wasn't serious." I look at Killian. "My first time I was seventeen. Bryan Hansen-Mackenzie. He was twenty."

"Story!"

"I know, I know. I was less than two months from my eighteenth birthday, and it didn't seem to matter. Still doesn’t, honestly. I was no different in April than July. The actual birthday was arbitrary. Not the point. I'm just sharing."

"Abby Wilshire for me. I was sixteen, she was seventeen. She was a tourist spending the summer in the BVI."

"Killy, so young!"

He rolls his eyes. "I know. Mom and Dad never found out until, like, a few months ago. They were pissed. Mainly because I lied about where I was and who I was with."

"Oof. Such a deviant," I tease. "Everett and I had several classes together. He was a bad boy. Came from a rough background, got in a lot of fights, smoked, drank, acted like he didn't like anyone. Except me. He liked me. He was sweet with me…as long as I went along nicely."

"Um—"