Page 90 of New Growth
He nodded in forced comprehension, but I could hear the disappointment in his voice when he said, “Okay, I understand. I have a guest room upstairs I can sleep in if you want the bed to yourself.”
The way he said it made it sound like it was the last thing he wanted to do.
“No, it’s fine. Just go to sleep.”
He sighed, shifting slightly but not closing his eyes. “I can’t sleep without you in my arms, Elliot.”
“Then how’d you sleep before me?”
His lips quirked into a sad sort of smile. “I don’t remember how I did anything before I met you, Peanut.”
My heart was pounding in my chest. The honesty in his voice was enough to make me stop breathing for a second. We held each other’s gaze in the dim light, anxious about the next move.
After a moment, he exhaled. “It’s fine. Let’s just go to sleep.”
I stared at him, his body so obviously tense with restraint, and before I could second-guess myself, I whispered, “You can hold me.”
His eyes lit up and flickered with something unreadable before he shook his head.
“No, Peanut. It’s okay.” He reassured me, dropping his gaze to my lips.
Still, I wiggled closer, reaching for his arm and guiding it around me. “Please?”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
Immediately, his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against his chest. He breathed me in deeply, his grip firm but comforting, as if he was afraid I’d slip away if he let go. “Thank you.”
I sighed, letting myself relax into his warmth.
After a while, he spoke again.
“Can I ask you something, E? It’s a little personal.”
I glanced at him, surprised by his tone. “Um. Okay… What’s up?”
He hesitated, then looked down at me seriously. “I’ve noticed that sometimes, when I touch you in certain places, you flinch or pull away. Why is that?”
I didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t rush me to. He just laid beside me, quietly letting me gather my thoughts.
Finally, I found the words that I had carefully chosen.
“In my last relationship, he had this habit of touching me in certain places as a signal that he wanted sex. After the breakup, the feeling of being touched in the same spot feels… wrong. Like my body still remembers what it meant, and my brain reacts accordingly.”
I looked at my hands. Sometimes, it felt like my trauma had taken up permanent residence in my muscles. Like no matter how much I’ve moved on from the past, my nervous system never got the memo. And it was an exhausting feeling to know I’d done the work, only for my body to drag me back into the worst parts of it.
I swallowed hard, then continued.
“It’s like a muscle memory. My body feels like someone’s trying to sleep with me, and my brain panics. I don’t know how to stop it.”
It was his turn to fall silent now, and I could feel him processing my words.
“So… when I touched you before, at the event—” he said quietly. “Did I trigger you?”
I stared at him before nodding. “Only a little.”
He looked away, jaw clenched. “Fuck.”
“Stop it.”
