Page 18 of Size Doesn't Matter

“You flatter me, really. I did date one man for a year or so – a human, like you, although he was a little closer to my size.”

“A year is a long time. What happened?”

“He didn’t like some of my quirks. That happens in long-term relationships, as I’m sure you’re aware. Things you don’t believe will bother you at first chip away at you over time and eventually become too annoying to ignore.”

Nico sat up, turning till he was sitting in a way that he could see my face. “Let me get this straight: he didn’t like some things about you, so you broke up?”

“That’s right.”

“And what annoyed you about him?”

I shook my head and shrugged. “Nothing. I liked him a great deal. We had fun together, and for a time, it felt like we were the perfect match.”

“Well, He missed out then because you’re a real catch.”

“Maybe to you, but not to him. After he left, I thought I would never find someone who loved me again, and I’m sorry to admit that I think that’s true.”

Nio grabbed the side of my face, wrapping his fingers behind my neck. “Don’t you ever say that again, Cyrus P. Cartwright. You’re a wonderful man and completely deserving of love. Anyone who tells you differently has no right.”

I smiled sadly. “But how can it be wrong when the fact is, I’ve yet to find anyone who loves me – and I mean truly loves me?”

Nico fell silent. He couldn’t say those words, especially not after his loveless rant. I didn’t want him to either, not if he didn’t mean them.

“Well,” I said after a long and painful bout of silence, “I think it’s time for us to go to bed if we want to have any energy reserved for tomorrow.” I moved his hand away from my face and got up, stretching for a moment before leaving him on the couch to mull over our conversation.

“Are we doing anything tonight?” he called back hopefully, just as I was about to close the bedroom door behind me to get changed into pajamas.

“No, my dear fellow. Tonight we shall enjoy our sleep.”

15

NICO

Cyrus was withdrawing from me. I could feel it in his touch and hear it in his voice. I couldn’t let him slip away, not now. If I wanted to keep him, I needed to do something to keep him interested, but what? All my attempts to win him over with sex ended with either a reasonable rejection or a restrained session of lovemaking that ended well, but not at the level I was looking for.

I climbed into bed, already better at scaling the thick mattress than I was last week, and curled up next to him. He held me close, but there was a coldness in the room, and it wasn’t coming from the parially open window. As I drifted off to sleep, I tried to picture us together years down the line when I was a head chef and he was, well, whatever he wanted to be in five or ten years. Still teaching at the university, maybe? He seemed happy doing that.

The vision was dark and blurry, showing me only glimpses of us holding hands watching the sunset, kissing at our wedding, or getting into bed night after night as our hair turned gray and our wrinkles deepened.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give him what he really wanted, as much as I wanted to make him happy. He was a good guy, sure, and he made my heart leap with excitement most of the time. I looked forward to seeing him in the morning, hearing him whisper in my ear to see if I was awake. But that wasn’t enough to make me want to spend the rest of my days by his side. The infatuation would wear off and we would both be left with an empty relationship and no one else to turn to.

I was restless throughout the night, and I woke up several times with a faint headache and blurry vision. Each time I squinted at the clock on the wall, praying it was 5 or 6 and I could get up, only to see that it was barely past midnight, or 2, or 3. When I inevitably kicked the sheets around to make them more comfortable, Cyrus shifted next to me, his weight making the entire bed creak.

When morning finally came and released me from the prison that was this bed, I got up and tiptoed to the bathroom. Taking a quick glance back before I shut the door, I determined that Cyrus was still asleep, which was exactly what I wanted.

In the bathroom, I took a few minutes to finger-comb my hair, brush my teeth, wash my face, and put on some lip balm. I wanted Cyrus to be impressed by me when he woke up – smitten and ready for some action. He had promised me we would get back to what was important in the morning, and I was more and more confident that I was ready for the next step.

When I was satisfied with my appearance, I slipped back into bed, pulled the blanket over both of us, and snuggled against his back. He moved a little, reaching his hand back to find mine and hold it.

Perfect timing, I thought.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I said softly. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Good enough.” He exhaled loudly and turned to lie flat on his back, tucking one hand behind his head. “Someone kept waking me with all his tossing and turning, though.”

My cheeks flushed. “Oops, sorry about that.”

“I don’t mind. Are you all right? Is there something wrong with the bed?”

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