I force myself to stop laughing. “Excuse me?”
He says it slower this time, like maybe I didn’t understand it the first time. “Why don’t you want me?”
“Storm, are you really this used to women just throwing themselves at you? Am I really the first woman who hasn’t come running to you, tongue wagging, legs spread?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hurt your amazingly large ego and obvious world record.”
“Evelyn, I’m serious. Just tell me why.” He’s still not laughing.
“I... okay, I’ll be serious.” I struggle to find the words to explain to him what I feel, but how can I do that when I don’t even understand it myself? “I hated you at first. I thought you were really strange and pretty much an asshole. But now, I like you. I want us to be friends. You make me laugh and you make me feel safe. I like the attention you give me, I guess. And yes, I’m attracted to you. I mean, look at you. But I have a boyfriend. I have never been a cheater. And you... like you said, you don’t do relationships. You have your fuckbuddies. I think you like that I’m a bit of a conquest for you. I just don’t want to be that. I don’t want to be some sort of fun challenge for you, so you can see how far you can push me and how much you can fuck with my head and my body before I give in and sleep with you, and then you move on, leaving me a huge mess.”
“Why do you make it all sound so bad? What’s wrong with setting your sights on something or someone that’s a bit out of reach?”
“Nothing, if that’s what two people are into. What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to be part of that. It’s not me. Yes, I’m attracted to you if that makes you feel better. You seem to need to hear it. But I really don’t believe you’re attracted to me. Look at me, I’m like five feet tall with hardly any boobs, pale skin, I’ve been a mess since the day we met. I am not the super model you are used to.”
He squeezes my foot. “Evelyn, I am attracted to you. I think you’re fucking adorable. I’m sick of girls like that—”
“See?” I interrupt. “You’re bored. You want something new.”
He runs his hand through his hair, exasperated. “Why do you make things so hard? I don’t sit around and analyze my feelings. I just go after what I want. I think you’re miserable with Michael. He seems to treat you like fucking shit.”
“That doesn’t mean I should jump into bed with you!”
“I know that. Did you ever think you’re just wasting time with him?”
“No.”
“Do you really think if I just wanted to fuck you and leave you, I’d be here taking care of you?”
“No... at least, I hope not. And I appreciate that you’re taking care of me, but I’m not going to fuck you in return.”
“That’s not what I want, Evie. I think you know that much. You can’t deny there’s something between us, right? Am I the only one who feels a connection here?”
I stare at the wall behind him. I don’t want to answer this.
“Right?” he pushes.