Page 41 of Pick Me
“Why not? It’s logical. It’s convenient. It’s smart.”
“We—you and me being together—that’s convenient and smart. Heck, Ilikeyou, Knox Sunday, even when you’re a grumpy asshole. I prefer to bottom, but I can get toppy if that’s what you’re into, I can deep-throat like a champion, and… Okay, now it sounds like I’m reciting some kind of sexual resume, and that’s just weird.” He fluttered his eyelashes at me. “Look, I told you I’d help you find a hookup, right? It just turns out that the perfect candidate was closer than you thought. Pick me, Knox. Just… pick me.”
It would be so easy to give in. To lick the tart apple flavor from those dark pink lips, to slip my hands into that too-messy hair and hold him exactly where I wanted him, to take the light and happiness of him in my arms.
But then what?
The sad truth was that I didn’t trust my own brain anymore. I didn’t trust my judgment. I didn’t trust myself not to overreact to stress and collapse on a sidewalk. I didn’t trust myself to not make a stupid rash decision, like the one that had led me back to Vermont and landed me in an even bigger mess with my family that I still had to fix before it was time to move back to Boston. And I sure as hell didn’t trust that I was feeling some kind of way about this gorgeous, wild, inappropriate man-child, when I’d never felt such overwhelming feelings for all the entirely appropriate people I’d dated in the past.
And, for the first time in—God, maybeever?—I didn’t wantmyselfto get hurt. I’d never been as instantly, powerfully, against-my-will attracted to someone as I’d been to Gage Goodman. The terrifying truth was, if he and I were fuck buddies and then stopped, I wasn’t sureIcould handle seeing him across the desk from me and not want to fuck him. I couldn’t handle him trying it on with me and then leaving to go live his big life.
The only way to stop that was to never set off down that path.
It was right to be cautious. Itwas.
I looked away, and the words felt like they were being dredged up from the deepest part of me. “I can’t.”
Goodman deflated. “I swear to God, if you tell me one more time this is because I’m your ‘employee’ or because you’d be taking advantage of my innocent, naive little ass, even though my ass hasn’t been innocent since sophomore year of high school—”
“No,” I said, a little more sharply than I’d intended because I was remembering the way he and John had slid together on the dance floor, all sweaty and breathless. Because I knew that saying no to him meant that he’d be saying yes to some other lucky bastard sooner than later. “No. It’s me, okay? I couldn’t handle it.”
“Ugh.” He turned around so he was walking—stomping—beside me. “Because I don’t score highly enough on your compatibility checklist.”
“No. Stop putting words in my mouth. I like you, too, Goodman, even when you’re a relentlessly cheerful muppet. We’re just…” I ran a hand through my hair. “We’re at different places in our lives. You were telling me all about your ideal job while we were driving the other day, remember? And then you started applying for positions in New York and Chicago—”
“And Boston,” he confirmed with a nod. “While you’re gonna be here at the orchard. So?”
“So, I…” I swallowed the urge to disagree about my future plans—to tell him I’d be going back to work in the city—and I told myself that an omission wasn’t a lie, exactly. “You should be focusing on the future. You’re here for only another few weeks. And meanwhile, I have so much shit on my plate, this face is in the dictionary next to the word ‘obligation.’” I squeezed my own chin lightly. “So. Yeah. That’s why, even though it’s not what Iwantexactly, and even though the other night was the most turned on I’ve ever been while fully clothed, it can’t happen again.”
Goodman opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but then he shook his head. “Okay, then,” he said in a small, disappointed voice. “I don’t agree with you. In fact, I strongly disagree. I think we could have the hottest, most satisfying sex ever and that your face is actually in the dictionary next to the words ‘pointless self-denial,’ but whatever. I respect your decision. I appreciate you explaining it. Good luck finding another candidate as enthusiastic as me, but if you do—”
I rolled my eyes. “There are no other candidates right now.”
“—I suggest you don’t drag them out into the tree fields and subject them to hypothermia before you condemn them to a fuckless existence.” He sighed lavishly, and even though I was so frustrated I could scream, he made me feel like laughing, too.
“God, you’re such a drama queen.” I stuck my hands in my pockets, mirroring him, so I wouldn’t be tempted to reach for him. To comfort him. Ormyself.
“I feel foolish,” he admitted. “I thought you just maybe needed me to be clear that I wanted you even when I wasn’t drunk, so I’ve been throwing myself at you the past few days, while you…” He broke off. “Anyway. Sorry.”
“No!” I felt weirdly heartbroken. Like he was the one putting a stop to things, not me. “Goodman, no. I…” I stopped myself, literally biting my tongue against the urge to tell him that I’d felt exactly what he felt. Maybe more. “It’sfine. I promise. A gorgeous twenty-something guy being attracted to me is the most validating thing I’ve experienced sinceIwas a twenty-something guy. Believe it.”
“I appreciate you being cool about it, but seriously, sorry for the lack of clothing and the, um…” He looked up at a puffy cloud ambling across the sky, clearly embarrassed. “The massages. And the erection checks.Jesus. And the yoga.”
“Come on. Donotapologize for that stuff. Especially the yoga.” I knocked my arm into his. “I kept waiting for you to bend yourself into a shape you couldn’t get out of. The anticipation was what got me out of bed this morning.”
Goodman snort-laughed, then darted me a searching look. “So we’re good, you and me?” he asked.
“Yes. We’re great. We’re… friends. At least I hope we are.”
He nodded down at the ground, then shivered again as a stiff breeze shook the leaves on the trees.
I took off my sweatshirt and dropped it over his head.
“Hey!” he squawked.
“Friends don’t let friends lose their testicles to frostbite,” I said casually, pretending I didn’t notice the way my shirt fell nearly to the backs of his thighs.
Pretending I didn’t love it.
