Page 19 of Pretty Obsessed

“It’s one of the safest and most discrete for hiring companionship.” My words seemed to surprise him, but I didn’t see a point in lying anymore.

“Last night wasn’t the first time, was it?” he asked, taking a big gulp of his drink.

“We all have needs we can’t avoid, but I try and avoid it as much as possible.” Maybe my love language was touch as well, but I hated that I needed these human indulgences. “A couple times a year, when we’re here or one of their other locations.”

He studied me. “I do a shit job of hiding mine.”

“We see them, but it’s hard to keep vices from people you spend every hour of every day with.” No matter what I did, I felt like I wore it on my sleeve for the rest of the guys to see. My need for connection an addiction I missed as much as Iris would probably miss his.

“You’ve done it.” He shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I do well at keeping my boxes all separate, but here you are. You now know more than I know about what you’re going through.” I picked up my drink, the sugar coating my teeth and tongue. It brought back memories of hot summers and swimming in the lake all day. Simpler times.

I could feel Iris working through it in his mind. When I went out alone, it was infrequent, but it was enough against my normal for him to pick out the instances. “Amsterdam, Liverpool, Houston…”

“Yes.” There was nothing more to be said on the topic.

“Is that really it?”

I searched my memory. “Mostly, yes. I don’t often give in to indulgences.”

His mouth was a line, and I didn’t press. “And when you do give in?”

I laughed. There was no better reaction. I wasn’t proud of the reasoning behind it. “Because it’s as long as I can stand to go without being touched. I try and push it longer but I only make it about three months and then it’s painful.”

“Is it really all about being touched?”

“No.” My words came out more curt than I meant them. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this.” I had no excuse other than I was tired of keeping it all bottled up. “I pretend I’m in love. I make it a fantasy, but it’s not real. And every time I do it, I feel worse because it drives home how I’ll return to the road and to loneliness. So I try to prolong it again and here I am.”

“Why don’t you date and seek something like that out?”

“I’ve tried, but I’ve never met anyone I wanted to date.” I always assumed it was my fault. I had grand fantasies and ideas of love and nothing seemed to touch what I’d created in my mind.

“Never? Not even before all of this?” He gestured between us.

“A little bit, but it was different when I was nobody, and nothing overly serious.” I exhaled audibly like it would bring with it an easy explanation. “Maybe it’s better if I don’t see Emory again. What if the entire allure was the fantasy of him?”

“Or maybe he’ll be the one you end up wanting to date.”

“We should go. This was silly. A childish indulgence.” I had to convince myself it wasn’t Emory that had made me come that hard, it was the situation and what I’d built it into.

“Are you going to give up so easily?”

“Yes… No… I don’t know.” I pushed to my feet, but my eyes locked on Emory across the room.

He was heading to the space where he’d been sitting at the bar yesterday.

He swallowed and I thought for sure he was going to run. He had the deer-in-the-headlights eyes. I’d spooked him in his own environment.

I slid my hands into my pockets and waited. If he ran, I wouldn’t give chase.

He set his laptop bag on a bar stool but didn’t look away. The bartender walked over and glanced between the pair of us, scowling. He said something to Emory.

“Is that him?” Iris asked.

I nodded, not risking any sudden movements.

“He’s hot.”

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