Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Louis
Excitement thrums in my veins as I step out of the Uber. It’s been two weeks since our coffee “date,” and Sterling and I have spent every day texting. Morning, noon, and night, there’s been a permanent smile stretched across my face as I devoured every sliver of information he’s fed me.
Texting him is the highlight of my day, and it’s more than just the comfort I find with him.
It doesn’t matter that he’s ten years younger than me, or that we’ve already slept with one another.
He is confident, witty, and smart. A man who is honest and knows what he wants out of this life and has no qualms in chasing it.
Whether intentional or not, his choice to always initiate conversation and make the first move hasn’t gone unnoticed. He eliminates the guesswork, and it’s been a very long time since someone understood me so quickly, without me having to explain myself.
It means I spend less time in my own head, leaving more time to enjoy whatever this is blossoming between us. And there is something between us.
It’s undeniable.
It’s there in the back of my mind, a constant hum as the minutes and seconds of the day pass me by. It’s there in the rapid beat of anticipation I feel in my chest as I wait for what he’ll say next. And it’s there in every moment we share.
My cell vibrates in my hand, Sterling’s name on the screen. I swipe at the message to open it.
Sterling: Here.
Sterling: Just a heads-up, I’m with Claire. I bumped into her and her friends at our meeting place.
My feet stall at the words on my screen, knowing that he’s preparing me but hating the idea of his ex-girlfriend witnessing me approach him.
The coincidence with the Heart2Heart app now seems like a distant memory, and tonight feels more like a first date against a soundtrack of great music, instead of the false ideas the whole idea was conceived upon.
Inhaling the cool night air, I walk the remaining half mile, my fingers clicking in quick succession until I see Sterling appear amongst a small crowd.
He’s dressed similarly to the first night I met him—boots and black skinny jeans, the age difference between us obvious as he wears an oversized tank exposing his tattooed body and nipple piercings.
He’s a beautiful contrast to the indie band we’ve come to watch, looking more like he’s ready for a death metal experience, and not a nice night filled with acoustic guitars. He’s a walking juxtaposition, and it’s my favorite thing about him; the hard shell versus the soft center.
I focus on him as the distance between us closes, and his gaze locked on mine gives me the confidence I need to block everything else around us out. He steps away from the crowd, giving us some privacy amongst the crowd.
“Hey.” Despite the nerves, the smile on my face is impossible to hide, and I bask in the feeling of just being.
His hands find my waist and he leans in to kiss me on the cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
The kiss is soft and welcoming, and the perfect way to soothe my frayed nerves. My build is bigger, a bit wider than his, but he stands comfortably a few inches taller than me. It’s a perfect fit, being held by him.
He places his mouth by my ear. “Are you ready to meet everyone?”
I’m not, and not out of the usual nervousness or anxiety, but rather I have no desire to meet anyone from his past. It’s more than likely irrational, but I know I’m falling hard and fast for him, and I don’t need to be comparing myself to a life he left behind.
I compare myself to everyone else on the daily, so I don’t need to add this to my list of shortcomings.
The one thing I know for certain with Sterling is that he doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to, and that includes giving me his time. I let his confidence prop up my own as we prepare to face the proverbial firing squad.
Mirroring his actions, I raise my hands to his waist and squeeze, wordlessly answering his question. He presses another kiss to my cheek, and my eyes flutter closed at the gentle gesture.
Sterling takes a step back, and my gaze moves past him, immediately finding Claire, made easier by the fact she’s staring at us.
Her smile is tight, but not cold or uninviting, so I return it as Sterling turns and pulls me in their direction.
“Everyone, this is Louis.” He glances at me, his smile cheeky and knowing. “My boyfriend.”
I know that whatever this is between us is more than a hookup and less than official labels, but I can’t ignore the way being his makes me feel. Straightening my spine, I hold my hand out to Claire, and eventually the other six people in the group.
Like the natural born leader I’m learning him to be, Sterling leads us all inside. The need for everyone to stick together dissipates as everybody prepares themselves for the hours of entertainment ahead.
I begin snapping my fingers as we wait, hand in hand, in the concession stand line, and Sterling’s eyes soften at the sound of my clicking. It’s more empathy than sympathy, and while his understanding of my stim doesn’t bother me, I choose this moment to share more about myself.
“I’m not always an anxious mess when it happens. Even if they’re the only times you’ve seen me do it,” I say with a smile, hoping for levity. “Sometimes it’s as natural as breathing, but most times it just gives everything I’m feeling away.”
“Like the speed of the clicks or how long they last?” The question is voiced with nothing but pure and innocent interest, something I have found to be so rare. It always starts with an “oh that’s cute” and ends with “could you try and not click in front of my parents.”
Over the years, people’s reactions to my stimming has determined how long I’ve kept them in my life, if at all.
Apparently, being kind is too hard for some people.
“Yes,” I answer. “Sometimes they’re in a really quick succession, and I’ll repeat it until I feel regulated. And other times they’re just—”
“Three simple clicks,” Sterling continues for me.
He raises the back of my hand to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to my skin.
“I watched you from my bedroom window, climbing into the Uber. Your gait was so relaxed when you were walking to the car, and you snapped your fingers with the laziest smile on your face.”
My heart trips over itself, continuously trying to find its rhythm, trying to work out how exactly I’m going to survive this night, let alone this man. He has me hook, line, and sinker. And I, shamelessly, want him to keep me.