Page 33 of Blindsided By You

Even so, I can’t broach the subject right away. The demanding Geordie of earlier barking commands at me, telling me exactly what he’s going to do to me, and ordering me to do things to him inreturn, is gone. I liked that Geordie very much, and I want to see some more of him. He’s uncovered a new side of me in the bedroom tonight. But this man, sliding under the sheets beside me, is the other Geordie, the soft one. It feels wrong to confront this gentle, smiling man with hard questions.

He lies back on the pillow and I instinctively curl towards him, nuzzling in beside his long body, laying my head against his broad chest, and bathe in the soothing feel of his fingers as they move to stroke my hair, and the steadying rise and fall of his breathing. It’s so addictive. I don’t want to break the spell, but I must.

I swallow down my fears and prepare myself, although I don’t move, staying exactly where I am. I can’t look at him, not brave enough to read his response.

Damn it, I should be, but I can’t face seeing hesitation in his eyes, or worse still, a lie. Despite my resolve—I told myself I could handle rejection—still, part of me wants something real with Geordie; wants it so badly I’d rather live with the illusion. I speak calmly, although my throat is so tight it hurts.

“So, where do we go from here?”

His quiet laughter rumbles beneath my ear.

“How about nowhere? We stay here like this. Miss the bus home. Take up residence in the hotel. Live on great sex and room service.”

I can’t help but chuckle back. It’s a tempting proposition.

“Might need a few more condoms. Does that come with room service?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs, and then groans. “Please don’t ask me how I know that.”

I don’t need to. It’s certainly not just his natural ability that allowed him to play my body as skilfully as he plays the piano. Hislovemaking speaks of experience. That he’s practised in the art of pleasure is no surprise. An attractive young single man, travelling the world; of course there’ve been women before me. Probably a lot of women.

“I’m not judging,” I giggle against his chest. “Just pleased all those embarrassing high school classes about safe sex got through to you.”

“Fuck,” he laughs. “They were god awful, made worse by…”

“Mrs Sutherland,” we say at the same time, bursting into laughter at the memory of poor long-suffering Mrs Sutherland, the biology teacher who drew the short straw, nominated to teach sex-ed to the students of Cluanie District High School.

“In your year, did she always use a pointer for diagrams?” he asks. “Like she didn’t want to touch a penis with her finger, even if it was just a picture?”

“Yes,” I choke out. “And she’d write the anatomical terms in extra tiny writing like they’d be less noticeable.”

“Oh man,” he laughs. “And we were stupidly immature about it.”

“Now, class, let’s be mature about this.”

We chorus the words in perfect imitation of her. The poor woman must have said them at least ten times in every lesson.

Our laughter trickles away in tiny bubbles, until we lie in silence. I try again, this time propping myself up on one elbow to face him, the comfortable ease of shared memories between us encouraging me to be brave.

“Geordie, I need to know where you see this going. Us.” I find a snippet of courage and take one step further. “I really like you Geordie, but…”

He presses a finger to my lips, hushing me. “And I really like you, too,” he says, as if my hesitation was simply seeking confirmation that this could be more for him, too. I take another step.

“Look, Geordie, I don’t want to pressure you, but what happened between us tonight, it can’t happen again unless there’s…”

I fumble for the words. I’m not expecting a lifetime commitment here, but I need more than the promise of a quick tumble between the sheets if we’re feeling horny. I’ve got a couple of very nice vibrators to solve that problem and Geordie’s got a pair of strong hands that I’m sure can capably relieve his needs. Neither of those options will leave us with a broken heart.

“Some feelings involved?” He says it carefully.

“I’m too old to just mess around, Geordie. I’m not looking for casual hookups.”

“You’re looking for more.” His eyes search my face, but they are unnervingly unreadable.

“Yes—well, no, I don’t think I was even looking. Moving back home, I’d kind of resigned myself to not finding someone. Just throw myself into my business for a while. Focus on making a success of at least one part of my life.” I pause; one heartbeat, two. “And then came you.”

His mouth curves in the sweetest smile, and I want to kiss it. One large arm wraps across me, pulling me down towards him. He leans forward, pressing his lips against my forehead. When he speaks, his voice is hushed.

“And you,” he breathes, the lightest brush of air whispering away my worries. We sit in stillness, taking in the magic of the moment, that this thing could really be happening. Between us. My friend’slittle brother. Not so little now, with that big strong arm curling around me protectively.

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