but the idea of you using me doesn’t seem like much of a hardship. Feel free to use me and abuse me in any capacity you can think of.”
I giggle at his reply, loving this lighter side of him. The awkwardness of the “morning after” is slipping away and it feels like we’re finding our footing while we navigate through this new territory.
While I sit here and continue eating I can’t help but wonder what he wants this thing between us to be. Are we in a relationship? Does he want more than sex or am I just a piece of ass to him? This feels like so much more to me, but maybe I’m romanticizing the situation. God, I hope I’m not. I’m already falling in love with him and the idea of him not returning those same feelings has me losing my appetite. The sinking feeling in my stomach is overpowering.
I put my fork down on my plate and take a sip of orange juice.
Calm down.
He wouldn’t go to all the trouble of cooking me breakfast if I was just a convenient lay, would he?
“What are we doing?” I blurt out. He looks at me, looks down at his plate and back up at me again.
“We’re eating breakfast,” he answers with a smirk. My lips quirk slightly, but I’m not really finding what he said funny. Now that I’ve put the question out there I need to know the answer.
“That’s not what I meant. What do you want from me—from us?”
He places his fork down and pushes his plate away before turning to face me in his seat. He pulls my chair closer to him, turning it so we’re facing each other. Maybe this conversation is the last thing he wants with me—maybe this is his way of saying goodbye. My stomach is in knots.
“I really thought you could tell how crazy I am about you. I should’ve known you’d need to hear the words. I’m sorry, I’m not someone who usually does this—who has relationships. For the past two years I’ve been alone, no women in my life at all.” I’m surprised by this. It’s difficult to imagine any guy going that long without sex, but it only makes him more attractive to me.
“I’m not the most romantic guy. I’ll probably suck at being a boyfriend, but Janny Moore, will you be my girlfriend?”
The smile on my face couldn’t be any larger as I answer, “Yes.” I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He pulls me into his lap and lightly kisses me on the lips. He stares intently into my eyes, our faces close as I take in all the various shades of gold and brown that make up his irises. His hands slide into the sides of my hair, gripping my head and holding it still.
“I’m falling for you, Janny. I want to be with you and I don’t plan to let you go.”
I bite on my lower lip as I fight the urge to cry tears of happiness. My nose stings and my vision blurs before I feel a single tear roll slowly down my cheek.
“I hope this is a happy tear,” Kyle jokes and wipes my cheek with his thumb. I nod my head, still feeling too choked up to speak so I kiss him. I pour every bit of love I feel for him into the kiss and hope he can feel all the words I’m not ready to say—words I may never be ready to say.
We run by my place for clean clothes and a bag for tomorrow morning, before Kyle brings me to a park in South Boston for a picnic lunch. I’m not sure when he found the time between cleaning up the breakfast stuff and taking a shower, but he made us roast beef sandwiches and they’re delicious. He also packed Fritos, grapes and water—he thought of everything. We leisurely eat our lunch and then stretch out on the dark green blanket cuddled against one another. My full stomach, Kyle’s arms wrapped around me and the warmth of the sun lull me into a nap.
I wake up cold and notice the dense clouds blocking out all the warmth from the sun. I stretch my arm out, tearing off a blade of grass from the overgrown lawn and use it to tickle the end of Kyle’s nose. He scrunches his nose up in his sleep, but doesn’t stir. I bite my bottom lip to hold in