Page 44 of A Shot at Love
He smiles then, too, genuinely. “But I think I was just scared. To say those words, to explain that I was mostly happy, but also mostly anxious…it seemed impossible.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Everyone has their own experience with mental health, and I figured mine was small in comparison to other people. I didn’t need to bring it up—I had it handled. Unfortunately, it was probably more the stigma than anything keeping me quiet.”
I nod thoughtfully. “People rarely bring it up, especially in sports. Only a few brave people, like Simone Biles or Michael Phelps, have really been willing to go there.”
He runs his free hands through his curls. “I’ve had this piece on the back burner, ever since I started my show, about mental health in sports. I thought I might even mention my experience with the accident. But I always put it off, too afraid of what people will say. What if people thought I was just looking for attention? Or that I didn’t fight hard enough? Sports are all about competition and grit. What if my anxiety took away my ability to be a competitor?” He shakes his head. “And being Asian…there’s a lot of layers to it. I didn’t want to be the representative for a whole community. What if I misrepresented someone else’s experience? What if someone made me the stereotype? What if they blamed myparents?” He’s rambling a bit now, and he seems to know it. He laughs. “And that’s probably all my anxiety talking, anyway. My therapist would say I’m just feeding it over and over again by avoiding it.”
It sounds like a beautiful piece, perfect for his show, though I certainly understand his reservations. Aren’t I just feeding my anxiety by avoiding the scandal and avoiding Daniel? I look at him. “Maybe it’s time we both stop feeding the beast.”
The smile spreads across his face again, like a light flickering on in a dark room. “Maybe you’re right.”
We stare at each other, and I don’t know what he’s thinking, but all I can say is, “Daniel, will you kiss me?”
I’ve surprised him again, but he recovers quickly. He cups my right cheek, releasing our clasped hands. He tucks my hair behind my ear, trailing a finger down my ear and side of my jaw. I suppress a shiver. “Annie,” he whispers, leaning closer to me so I can feel his words on my flushed skin, “kissing you is my favorite thing to do.”
And then we’re pressed together again, our lips hot and greedy. My hands immediately reach under his shirt, sliding over his smooth skin. Daniel’s fingers are threaded through my hair, angling me towards him. The lights and the blankets and the pillows suddenly seem too perfect for the moment, and I remember we did not fool around much in our last love nest.
Time to remedy that.
I pull back an inch, both of us panting and looking at each other. Just when he’s about to open his mouth and possibly ruin the moment, I curl one sweatpants-clad legaround him, pulling so he’s flat on his back and I’m straddling him. “Whoa.” Daniel looks up at me admiringly, “That was smooth.”
“All credit to you.” I wink and hover over him, my long red hair tickling his face. He’s laughing when I kiss him again. Our kisses are almost frenzied, the hint of a five o’clock shadow on his chin rubbing my face raw. I work my way along his jaw, peppering him with small kisses and even biting his ear lightly. I remember him liking it last time, and his groan does not disappoint.
I pull my Florence + the Machine t-shirt over my head, tossing it aside. I’m unnaturally pleased at Daniel’s reaction when he sees me. He looks up at me with awe, like I’m powerful and beautiful. “You’re amazing,” he says, eyes wide. “Did you wear that on the flight?”
It’s a deep burgundy lace bra with pink flowers embroidered throughout. I laugh then, too. “I might have changed in the airport bathroom. You’re just lucky I packed something nice at all.”
“Lucky is right,” he says with those starry eyes, and I can hardly contain myself. I feel like I’m jumping out of my skin.
Daniel must be feeling the same way because he grips me tightly and rolls us again, so we’re on a different blanket, this one is soft and white. I’m now underneath, peering up at Daniel who is braced with only some of his weight on me. He begins kissing me again, with that same fervor and passion that makes my head spin. I arch my back, aching for him, and he reaches a hand underneath. He fumbles once, then unlatches my bra. Ihelp him take it off. “I prefer you over the lingerie, Annie,” he breathes, touching my breasts just the way I like. I grit my teeth when he takes my nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it. My brain feels like it's on fire.
He takes the same care with the other one, while I grip his shoulders and swallow down some whimpers. When he finally stops, I find myself scrambling for his shirt, wanting more of his skin on me. He pulls off the black T-shirt and Stanford sweatshirt in one go, tossing both behind us. I kiss down his chest, admiring his lean physique. He might have lost track, but he could never quit running.
My eager hands find the waistband of his pants, and Daniel stills, reaching for my hand. “Annie,” his voice is hoarse with wanting, “are you sure? I understand who you are. We don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do.”
My heart swells up, almost stopping me from responding. It’s sweet he remembers our conversation from so long ago.
A couple weeks into our relationship when we had hardly shared more than a few kisses, I talked to Daniel about being demisexual. I explained that I wasn’t always sexually motivated, and certainly not by people I hardly knew. He nodded at all the right places, asked some thoughtful questions, and we decided to create the pace we wanted. Just about the time he had his accident, I was feeling ready to move our relationship to the next step. I slept with Evan about four months in, and it was good,just not great. We both knew it wasn’t the right romance for us. We weren’t bad together; we just weren’t great.
Daniel makes me feel like greatness itself.
I look him in the eye, so he knows I’m telling the truth. “Daniel,” I keep my tone even, “it’s unusual that I’m sexually attracted to someone, that’s true.” He’s already leaning back, trying to give me space, but I grab his jaw, pulling him back down so he can hear me. “But you’re pretty unusual, Daniel Chan. And I’ve never wanted you more.”
At my words, he gives me that movie star smile and I want to fan myself, a blush spreading down my chest. He leans down, gives me a peck, then we begin to move slower. Everything becomes less frantic and more sensual. I appreciate the savoring. Every moment feels weighted, tension-filled, and it makes my body writhe with wanting him. The eye contact as he slowly peels off my socks. When we both take off our pants and he eyes my matching burgundy underwear hungrily. When he delicately runs his hands along my lower stomach, teases the band of my underwear, traces a finger up my upper thigh. My breath comes shorter and shorter. When he disappears for a moment for protection, which, like any ridiculous boy, he had stashed in his wallet, we both shiver as I help him roll it on.
I lean back on my elbows, feeling the soft plush of the blankets underneath. I wonder how I appear to Daniel, nearly naked and hungry and flushed and freckled and almost out of my mind with needing him. I can understand the appeal of sex now. It’s clouding anycoherent thought. Daniel’s fingers dig into my hips for a moment, skimming the faded stretch marks there. He kisses them softly, pulling down my underwear and putting them aside. “Ready, my beautiful Annie?” His voice is achingly soft, his body just as ready for me as mine is for him.
“Yes,” I say tremulously. He kisses his way up my body, his erection just teasing at my entrance. I whimper at the lack of pressure. “Please,” I say, my nose skimming his cheek, whispering in his ear.
When he finally enters me, it is slow. So slow, I see spots. I clutch his back, and he kisses me searingly, and then we find our rhythm, moving faster. He adds a few fingers just where I want him, making the pleasure almost unbearable. I wrap my legs around him, increasing our closeness and the angle.
I wish this moment would last forever, this feeling of closeness and understanding between us. The night feels perfect, untouchable and sacred. We started with emotional, intellectual closeness, followed by a more physical, subconscious closeness. I cherish every place we touch, the grip of his hand on my waist, his teeth just grazing my lower lip, his chest pressed against mine, my ankles interlocked in the small of his back. The rhythm of us, the bliss of us.
Then there is a blistering amount of pleasure, a starburst in my brain, and we’re both sighing at the finish. His body is heavy on top of mine for a moment, but then he pushes up a fraction. I raise a trembling hand, smoothing his eyebrows, tracing the angles of hisface. He looks beautifully undone, curls flopping in his eyes, eyelashes so close to me I can count them.
He gives me one more kiss, then leaves for just a moment to clean up, and the chill makes me shiver. I wrap myself in one of the blankets, blinking in surprise when I see that the living room clock reads 12:34 AM.
I’m already dozing when Daniel comes back and re-wraps the blanket around both of us. I nestle into his shoulder, feeling more content than I have in years.
*
