She nodded.
“Is this okay?” she asked, fingertips slipping over the front of my pants.
I made a noise in the back of my throat.
My whole body was electric. I could barely breathe.
“Do you want to go back to your place?” she said breathlessly. “Try out the air mattress?”
“Yes,” I said. “Fuck yes.”
“You’re okay with casual sex, right?” she said. “I just want to be sure.”
The words powered me down instantly. Everything that was on, shut off. I pulled my face away from hers.
She blinked up at me out of breath. “What?”
I couldn’t even speak. I felt like I’d been doused in cold water.
“Justin, what?”
I just stared at her.
“You really don’t…” I didn’t know how to complete the sentence.
You really don’t what? Want it to mean anything? Like me enough to want me for more than just sex? You could really do that with me and then just… go?
I let go of her and took a step back in the grass. I had to turn away. I couldn’t even look at her.
So that’s really what this was.
But how upset could I be? She’d never said she would stay. In fact, she’d said she wouldn’t. It was all me, hoping, thinking that maybe this could be something different than it actually is.
I could feel her study me. “What’s wrong? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I paused. “I’m thinking I like you a lot more than you like me.” I looked over at her, and her expression was an apology.
“Justin…”
“You don’t have to explain it. Don’t.”
She licked her lips. “I’m leaving in a few weeks. I thought we were just having fun—”
“We are. It’s fine.”
Her eyes roamed my face. “I like you, Justin.”
I glanced at her.
“I like you a lot,” she said.
“But?”
“You’re just in a different place than I am—”
“Then meet me where I am.”
She held my gaze and I could see by the look in her eye that she wouldn’t.
I fixed my stare on the shoe in the grass. “Is it because of the kids?”
I was almost afraid to ask it, but I wanted to be clear.
Her silence was the answer.
“Can I ask you a question?” I looked up at her. “If they weren’t a factor, what would be different?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe if you’d be willing to come with me—”
“So you do feel this between us? I’m not just imagining it.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Yes,” she whispered. “I feel it.” She peered at me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just—”
“Seriously. I don’t need to know any more.”
And I didn’t. She didn’t owe me an explanation, and I didn’t want one. Because what would it change?
You can’t negotiate feelings. You can’t convince someone they feel something they don’t. She either felt for me strongly enough to stay and accept my situation with my family, or she didn’t.
