Page 52 of Confessions of a Virgin on a Dating App
Once the pain dulled to a low ache, I sat up and tilted my head to the left. Devin was silent, his glassy gaze focusedon the road. He looked deep in thought, and I studied his shadowy form in the hazy evening light. He had one arm hanging over the steering wheel, driving with the bottom of his tattooed wrist, while the other hand was plopped on his lap. He wore different jewelry every time I saw him, and tonight that hand was adorned with a black wristband and two silver rings. His fingernails tapped nonchalantly against his jeans as he drove, and an overwhelming ache to slip my hand in his washed over my aching body.
I huffed, quashing the feeling like a candle being snuffed out.
We came to a rolling stop at an intersection, and when it became clear it would be a while until the light turned green, Devin sighed and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He pulled it over his head, tossing it in the backseat atop the cardboard boxes. His tattooed arms were once again on full display, and it sent a pang of longing down my pain-riddled abdomen.
But it also made my heart ache. Even with the sun almost gone, it was still eighty-five degrees outside, and the car’s air conditioning did little to fight off the swampy humidity. I knew Devin took the sweatshirt off because he was warm.
But he also took it off because he had nothing to hide anymore. I’d already seen his scars. I already knew his secrets. And it made me realize that a part of him still trusted me. It made me hope that no matter how badly I’d fucked things up, no matter how callously I’d broken his heart, that we could move past this and be friends.
I gulped. The problem was that I didn’twantto be friends.
I want to be so much more than frie—
“Gah!” I yelped as my weary body prepared for another round of cramping. My temples throbbed as my fingernails dug into my lower stomach, and I cursed myself for vocalizing my pain.It’s justperiod cramps. Stop being so dramatic…
“Here.”
Devin’s voice was soft, but the car had been so silent that it rattled my eardrums. I managed to stop shaking enough to turn my head, and I noticed his open palm was resting on top of the center console.
“What?”
“You can squeeze my hand if you need to.”
A hot bolt of electricity shot through my body, one nearly as painful as my period cramps. My head was swirling with emotions—embarrassment, guilt, fear…but mostly more longing. I’d just fantasized about holding his hand a minute ago, and now here he was offering my heartless self comfort when I didn’t deserve it.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
To my surprise, Devin didn’t pull his hand away. It remained an open invitation just a few inches away from me, and it sent burning pangs of regret through my chest.
It was now nearly dark, but I could hear a long, slow exhale radiating from the driver’s seat.
“I wish you’d just tell me why you left last Sunday.”
That simple sentence was the most pain I’d felt all night. I peered back over at Devin, and I could see the tension on his face. It strained his cheeks and throat and made his eyes look dull. All this time, I’d assumed he was angry. That he hated me. But he wasn’t. He was just…sad.
I opened my mouth, wanting to say a thousand things and yet unable to utter a sound. For Devin, he had nothing left to hide. I already knew his secrets. I couldn’t imagine how hard it was to discuss his past, and there I was, too afraid to confess to the man I claimed to want, too afraid to rip open my wounds and be vulnerable.
Devin was the strongest person I knew.
And I was a coward.
Even if I wasn’t paralyzed by my own guilt, I was out of time to give him an answer. Devin’s car slowed as we pulled into a parking lot, and the blindingly white Emergency Room sign sent a new kind of fear galloping through my veins.
I hated hospitals.
“Here.” Devin pulled his key out of the ignition, and the car fell silent. “I’ll walk you in.”
As I stepped out of the car, he offered me his hand again, but I muttered that I was fine and stumbled past him. It was only a few hundred feet from the car to the entrance, but it felt like miles as I struggled to put one foot in front of the other.
Another wave of pain made my knees buckle, and I felt a firm hand tug me upright.
“C’mon, Avie. You can do it.”
He wrapped an arm around my back, and I tried not to focus on how his embrace made my nerves tingle as he dragged me through the giant, automatic glass doors.
It was bright, white, and sterile, and it immediately made me want to vomit. Devin noticed this, and he gripped me tighter as we approached the reception desk.
After chugging through the formalities and paperwork with pain in my abdomen that nearly rivaled childbirth, I plopped down on a hard, teal-colored cushion next to Devin. Now all that was left was to sit in the fluorescent nightmare of a waiting room while my fear of hospitals ate me alive.
