Page 5 of Exhale

“I already like talking to you,” I said, and I did. I was enjoying hanging out with him, in the comfortable warmth of the coffee shop. He wasn’t trembling so hard anymore, and to top it all off, he was nice. Really nice.

“You’ll get tired of me,” he said. “I talk a lot and I’m intense. And apparently, I’m really demanding and needy and controlling. The last guy I hooked up with told me he was tired of my voice before he’d even finished blowing me. Said he couldn’t imagine being with someone who didn’t know when to shut the hell up.”

“That’s just rude. I would have kicked him out.”

“I did. Told him to go fuck himself.”

“Good for you.”

“I wanted…I suppose… Life is not that simple, is it? I just want to meet the right person, you know? Fall in crazy love with someone I can come home to in the evenings, who’ll hug me and love me and…yeah. All that. Some people find their soul mate and then they’re just, like, happy?”

“I don’t think they found their soul mates on Grindr.”

He smiled. A sad little smile that broke my heart. So, I did it. I reached out and touched his cheek. Smooth skin and a hint of bristled stubble against my fingertips. He looked up at me and spoke, his voice barely there.

“Some people seem to belong together. I just want to find that person who belongs with me.”

I knew that feeling far too well. I’d thought Kizzy and I would last forever. We hadn’t, and in a way, I was still devastated. But at the same time, thinking of her made me smile. She loved me. I loved her. We would nurse that love forever, but that didn’t mean we were right for each other. We weren’t, and we both knew that.

“I just want to be happy,” he whispered. “And people disappoint me. Over and over again.”

I didn’t really know what I was doing, but my fingertips still rested on his skin, so I brushed them down over his jaw, like I was painting him, tracing the outline of his neck. He shivered at my touch, swallowing as my hand came to a rest on his shoulder.

“Am I a disappointment?” I asked, trying to make my voice light and teasing, wondering if he could feel that I was trembling as much as he was.

“No.”

“Then we’re good?” It wasn’t that simple. Nothing in this life was, and for once, I wished I was drunk, so I wouldn’t care. Perhaps a few pints would’ve made me brave enough to take the lead. Instead, I released him and let my hand fall to my lap as I sank back into the chair and slowly exhaled the burning air inside of me.

It was crazy. He was sitting right next to me. All I had to do was reach out, cup the back of his neck. I could easily lean over and kiss him. That would be the first milestone over and done with, something to tick off the list. Break the thick ice. Smash that damn elephant out of the room.

“You’ll probably leave now, but I’ll do it anyway,” he said bravely—certainly braver than me—as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, smoothing it out on the tabletop.

“Is that a…list?” It was. He had a list of questions. I laughed and at last took off my coat. I was staying for this one. I’d never had someone interview me for the job of their bed partner for an hour or two.

“It’s weird, I know. But I think it’s better to set the record straight before we both realise this is a huge mistake.”

“It’s not,” I said confidently. In fact, it was kind of perfect. “Go on, shoot. I want to hear these questions.”

“They’re more like…statements? Things that are important to me.”

“Sounds good.” I leant forward with my elbows resting on the table, giving him what I hoped was a supportive smile.

“Firstly. Do you like cats?” He cringed as he asked, and I let a giggle slip.

“Hey, you told me you have a cat. My little sister would love you forever if you let her meet him. I don’t mind them, but I get that you love your cat, and I’m sure I’ll love him too. It’s a boy cat, yeah?”

“Boy cat.” He sighed deeply, a red blush creeping up his cheeks. “This is so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not stupid at all. I’ve never been interviewed for a boyfriend job before, so bear with me. I may need extra time to consider some of my answers.”

He snorted and fiddled nervously with the crumpled paper. I wanted to kiss him even more.

“You want to be my boyfriend?” His voice was gruff, and when he looked up from under his fringe, my brain short-circuited. Before I could stop myself, I did it. I actually cupped the back of his neck. His skin was hot and a little damp against my palm, and I watched his face, trying to gauge where he was at. Those cheekbones, those sparkly eyes, partly hidden behind a strand of hair…his full lips pursed like he didn’t know if I was teasing him. I hoped he knew I was dead serious. I leant in and carefully tasted his lips. I used the word tasted because that’s what I did. I didn’t kiss. I took a little bite out of him and savoured every morsel, our lips so perfectly pressed together, my bottom lip between his, the warmth of his breath as he exhaled and smiled and that first tentative taste became a kiss. And another. Small, wet kisses where I tried to figure out how we best fitted, but it seemed we fitted any way I kissed him. I loved how he leant into me, how he angled his head exactly right as I gently gripped his hair, then caressed his cheek as the kiss finally, reluctantly, came to an end.

“Wow,” he whispered as I came up for air, deep breaths to calm my beating heart.

“Not sorry,” I whispered back. “I’ve been wanting to do that since we got here. You are…you know…very…kissable.”

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