Page 41 of A Shot at Love
I fidget a little. “Yes.”
It’s dark in the plane, the lights dimmed for sleep-mode. We speak in hushed whispers. I try to read Jadea’s expression in the shadows. Her brow is furrowed. “You really like him, don’t you?” I don’t answer, and she pushes. “Like in real life? Outside of our little PR stunt?”
I lean back in my airplane seat, closing my eyes briefly. I can feel a headache forming. “I guess I got over my Stanford grudge a little quicker than I expected.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
To my surprise, deviating from her usual strong opinions, Jadea reaches out and gently holds my hand. I turn to look at her. “What do you want to do?” she asks softly.
There are a lot of unspoken words between Jadea and me. She understands my frequently lukewarm feelings about romance and sex. When I imagine my future, I imagine a partner, a best friend, someone I cuddle up with as we watch Netflix. I imagine lots of Twizzlers, maybe a couple kids, a cozy apartment or house. But I don’t get excited about some guy on the street. A man who’s only on my screen, with five pictures and threefunny quips about his personality, all wrapped in a swipe-right formula. I really can only imagine that life, that future, with somebody once I get to know them.
That applies to sex, too. I’ve never had a one-night stand; it’s just not in me. I almost never self-pleasure or use sex toys. I had sex with my last boyfriend, Evan, because I trusted him and liked him, and I knew him a few weeks before we even started dating. The slow approach worked best for me. When I was with Daniel at Stanford, I began to feel attracted to him in that way. I would have slept with him if given the chance.
Some people think I’m afraid, and I probably am, to some degree. Sex is a scary, intimate thing. But it’s more because I want people to understand me and not think I’m something unusual or unnatural just because I’m not very sexually motivated. Jadea has never treated me that way. She never told me to just “get it out of my system” or “jump into bed” with some guy, which some of my high school and college friends tried out when I complained about the lack of physical sparks.
But… Daniel.
I trust him. I loved him. Now, I care about him again. And…I can’t stop thinking about how sex with him would probably be wonderful. Mind-blowing. Romantic and hot and fun.
And for someone like me, those thoughts alone are shocking.
I don’t have the guts to tell Jadea about our past, but I do find my voice to speak about the present. “I want tobe with him,” I tell her quietly. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Jadea’s eyes definitely widen this time. “You want to sleep with him?”
I smile a little at her expression. “Before we left, we made out in the team laundry room.” Jadea lets out a low whistle that has Olabisi glaring at us from two seats ahead. I shush Jadea, but for her thisisquiet. “And now I can’t stop thinking about it. I was the one who pulled away because I wanted to clear the air, but nothing came out. He thought I stopped him because I didn’t want it. Him. Now he says we can just be friends.”
Jadea manages to whisper, but every word is fierce. “Annie, this is your chance to have everything you want. You shouldn’t ignore these feelings, especially when they don’t always happen for you.” It’s a pep talk at first, but then she softens a bit. “You deserve it, Annie. Daniel is special. I know it.”
Weirdly, I’m tearing up. Or not weirdly, considering my propensity for crying during life’s pivotal moments. “My chance,” I echo. “Maybe I should talk to him?”
It’s a weak response, but the best I can muster. I just need to explain to Daniel what I want. Possibly with my tongue.
No, no, focus. Words first.
Jadea cheers me on, silently raising a fist. “Text him now!”
Trying not to hyperventilate, I pull out my phone. I immediately notice another message from Daniel. I must have missed the buzz.
Daniel: I’m working on the narration for your piece…do you want to read it?
The offer seems to be two things: a peace offering, in case I was truly upset about our laundry room tryst, and a genuine offer for collaboration. Back when we were at Stanford, we’d read each other’s papers and mark the parts we liked with pink hearts (me) or red stars (him). It was a wonderful routine that he probably thinks we can recreate platonically.
This seems as good an opportunity as any.
Annie: I’d love to! We don’t have practice until noon tomorrow. Want to come to my apartment tonight to go over it? I should be home by 11 PM?
I think to anyone else it would sound like a booty call hiding within very professional words, but Daniel knows me and is probably taking me at my word. He agrees, and I tell him where the spare key is in case I’m running late, and he needs to let himself in.
Once our exchange is over, I put my phone away with a relieved sigh.
“Nervous?” Jadea asks, voice low and excited.
I press my heels to my eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Jadea cannot contain her giggles now. “My girl is going to get laid tonight!”
Her announcement is met with many shushes and serious side eye from Allyson in the row over.
