Page 22 of Curious
“In that case, what do you think about letting him calm down before you contact him to move your stuff out? And we’ll bring a small crew to help, so he can’t make any trouble.”
“I think that sounds good,” I whisper. I settle in for a wedding lunch with my husband, cuddled against him, and try not to think about all the things that could go wrong—on any front.
CHAPTER8
Camden
Soooo, I married a guy.
Weirdly, it’s not the “guy” portion of that sentence that feels strangest. The mind-blowing part is thatI got married. After all, it didn’t go so well the last time.
Shelby and I sit in the restaurant crunching chips and drinking margaritas, and I realize that, for the first time in a long time, I’m content.
“I’m so happy we did this,” I tell him. “I know it’s a strange situation, but it’s not just that I’m relieved to get health insurance—although that’s part of it.” I shrug. “I guess I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.” I stutter. “I mean, not inthatway.” Is that true, though? I shake myself. “I guess I really needed a friend.”
Shelby beams at me. “I always like having more friends.”
His response makes me irrationally grumpy. I don’t want to be lumped in with his other friends. I’m his husband. That’s special. I brush the irritation away. “Is there something else you want to do on your wedding day?”
“What, like go to Disneyland?” Shelby’s platinum blond hair falls across his forehead. It’s usually stuck kind of straight up, but it’s starting to droop. I like it this way—softer and looser. Not so tidy. I want to reach out and push it from his eyes.
Instead, I smile at him and shrug. “Maybe. I’m not sure my foot is up for all day at an amusement park, but when it’s healed …”
He claps. “When it’s healed, we’ll go to Disneyland for our honeymoon.”
“You got a deal. Happy wedding day,” I whisper, and one-arm hug him. I like the way he feels at my side.
“Happy wedding day.” He looks up at me, and I can’t help it: I kiss him. It’s a sweet, chaste kiss, but I kind of want more. He tastes like tangy, salty alcohol. His lips are cool and soft against mine, and I feel that same zing of pleasure I got when we kissed at the clerk’s office. Physical chemistry, I think.
That startles me.
Do I have chemistry with Shelby Borchard? The twitch in my pants sure makes me think I do.
Maybe I just haven’t been truly open to what it would be like to be with a guy. Or is it that it’s Shelby?
He blinks at me, then puts a finger on his lip.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “Did I hurt your mouth? Or … do you mind if I kiss you?”
“I don’t mind, and my lip feels fine,” he says. “And in the abstract, I like kissing. A lot. I like kissingyoua lot …”
“But,” I prompt.
“But I didn’t think you were into guys. Reyna and Charlie always said you were their straight brother.”
I sip my margarita. I want to tell him that I’m not sure what I am, but I also don’t want to lead him on. “I’ve never been with a guy before, but I like kissing you. I guess I’m … curious.”
His face falls, and I rewind to consider what I just said. I’m not sure what’s wrong with saying how I feel. “Hey,” I say. “What is it?”
Shelby shakes his head and sighs. “I think we may need some rules.”
Something about his tone makes my heartbeat race. “Oh?”
“I can’t be your bi-curious experiment. It feels like I’m being used.”
My mouth goes sour. “Oh my god, no. I don’t want that. I didn’t think … I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right.”
He gives me a sad smile. “I wish I wasn’t. I’ve just been burned one too many times by guys who told me they wanted more but didn’t. I know you’re asking the opposite, but you’ll have to figure out your place on the Kinsey scale some other way.”
