Chapter 2 #2
I grab the collar of my sweater and pull it up over my mouth just in time to stifle my surprised snort-squeak of laughter.
Cannon wrinkles his nose at me in a way that makes it impossible to tell if he was kidding or serious.
“You don’t have to drink the coffee, but I will.
I’ve never gotten used to dealing with fourteen teenage girls at six thirty in the morning. ”
“Your little reverse-psychology trick back there was genius,” Cannon comments as we cross the street and head down the sidewalk. I’m still clutching my flowers, even though I probably look stupid, because I just don’t want to let them go. “You had them trying to convince you to let them practice.”
Huffing a laugh, I enjoy the cool spring breeze tugging my hair out of my eyes. “I’ve been teaching high school for twelve years; I know how the little buggers think.”
“So you teach history but also coach cheer? That’s quite a combination.”
“I grew up doing cheer. In college I was a UCA National Champion at the same time I was getting my history degree. People thought I was pretty weird.” Some trans folks don’t like to talk about life before their transition, especially stuff with gendered connotations, but I came out as trans so late that the vast majority of my life happened before.
I want Cannon to understand that I own all of it.
“You were the ultimate jock-nerd combo,” he teases, his eyes lighting up hungrily like that appeals to him.
He seems like such a sweetheart, but part of me is fucking terrified of the sexuality leaking off him, his obvious experience against my naivete.
He could take me apart. As if he can read my mind, he grins wider and bumps his shoulder lightly against mine, almost sending me stumbling into the gutter.
The convenience store is blessedly empty when we duck inside.
“Jessie’s Girl” plays over the speakers as Cannon watches me fill a cup from the rusted coffee machine that probably hasn’t been cleaned in a year.
I want to get this part over with, so I drop into a wobbly metal chair by the back window and set my flowers carefully on the table.
Cannon sits opposite me with no impatience whatsoever, propping his chin on one hand and studying me intently as I try to figure out what I want to say.
“A little background on me—I took a two-year break from teaching and started medically transitioning when I was thirty. In the trans community, at least online, that makes me a fucking dinosaur. But I just couldn’t live the rest of my life in the wrong body, lying about who I really was.
And I’m so happy with the results. I don’t often struggle with my identity, and I don’t have any physical limits for sex or anything like that. ”
When I pause for breath, Cannon just nods and steals a sip of my coffee, despite what he said earlier.
“The one thing I’ve missed out on because of my transition,” I continue, “is being in a relationship as a gay man. I haven’t dated or been with anyone in many, many years and it’s not—” I cut off as that breathless rush of nausea and fear hits me again, trying to push through it.
“It’s not looking like that will ever happen for me,” I finish evasively.
“So when I decided to post on this app about my appointment, I started to wonder if I could explore a kind of fantasy of what it would be like if I had a relationship, you know?” Of course he doesn’t know.
I sound like a freak. “That ranges from romantic to, uh, sexual, as long as we’re both into it. Does any of that make sense?”
Exhaling slowly, he sits back and rubs his neck. I can’t read his face, but at least he’s not running out the door. “The only thing I don’t get is the difference between going on a first date and pretending you’re dating. Why does it matter so much?”
Because there’s no time. Because I did this in a panic when I realized I’d waited too long and I’d never be fucking touched by a man. All I have left is jumping headfirst into the deep end.
I start picking bits off the rim of the styrofoam cup and flicking them into the rapidly cooling coffee, which makes the corner of Cannon’s mouth quirk up.
“Because I don’t want to date someone, but I want more than sex.
I just want someone experienced to show me what it’s like—one day, no strings.
” I shrug weakly. “I know the difference is arbitrary and nonsensical, but it matters to me and I don’t want to explain exactly why, if that’s alright. ”
My rambling dies when Cannon reaches across the table and takes the half-destroyed cup away from me.
He waits until I meet his eyes to talk. “I get it, I think. I’m good to do whatever you want today.
Or…” A crooked smile teases at his mouth.
“If you want an accurate experience of dating me specifically, I’ll take the lead and you can tell me if you want something different.
” He wrinkles his nose again, an adorable gesture I’m already obsessed with.
“But if that’s not your thing, I can tone it down. I just want to make you happy.”
Heat floods my body, arousal and a deeper kind of longing that sparks along all my nerves.
I’ve always been drawn to authority and dominant personalities, the idea of slipping out of responsible teacher mode for even a moment.
But I never imagined a random guy so much younger than me might give me a taste.
I won’t be able to forget the appointment looming at the end of today, not for a moment, but of all the people in the world this man might be able to bring me the closest.
After a long moment I nod unsteadily. He quirks an eyebrow, waiting for me to clarify. “You can, uh, take charge. That’s good.” My mumbled voice cracks on the last word.
“Awesome.” Those dimples flash as he offers me a puppyish grin, his eyes ranging over my body with a new sense of ownership that makes it hard to breathe. “Can you wait outside while I pay for and throw away…whatever this is?” He hoists the coffee with white bits floating in it.
My heart is galloping around in my chest like a stampeding horse as I carry my flowers out to the parking lot that smells like exhaust fumes.
To my relief, I can’t see any of my students’ parents pumping gas.
Even so, I find myself edging around to the far side of the building where I’m hidden behind a row of overgrown juniper bushes, just in case.
“Are you trying to run away already?” Cannon’s voice makes me jump. He picks his way between puddles and discarded slurpee cups with a bemused smirk.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans in case he tries to hold hands later. “A teacher running errands in the same town where he works has no privacy whatsoever.”
“Well then let’s get out of here.”
“Do you—” I balk, stumbling to a stop when he blocks my way.
My eyes instinctively fly to his to see what he wants, and I can tell from the warmth in his gaze that this pleases him.
He takes the flowers out of my hands without a word.
My protesting sound dies to a startled whimper when his strong hand cups my cheek.
“Easy,” he murmurs when I suck in a panicked breath at the realization that I haven’t kissed anyone in almost ten years and I don’t remember how.
The rough pad of his thumb steadies against my cheekbone, holding me still.
This close I can see only gentleness in his playful blue eyes.
“I’m gonna touch you so much today, until you’re not scared of me anymore. ”
“I’m not scared,” I whisper, somehow the truth and a lie all at once.
His fingers slip around the back of my neck and curl tight in my hair as he presses his lips to mine, soft and hot and searching.
He doesn’t waste any time at all, just coaxes my mouth open with his and slips his tongue inside like it belongs there.
I would let him stay for hours, days, anything he wanted.
I let out a shaky groan when he presses the firm, metallic ball of a piercing gently against my tongue, and I feel him chuckle. I’m fucked.
When I’m dizzy, he pulls back with a satisfied grin and drops a quick kiss on the tip of my nose. “Let’s go. Can we take your car? Unless you want the handlebars of my bike.”
“No problem.” I think the correct words come out in the correct order, but I’m not totally sure. My mouth is too tangled up in the sweet, smoky taste of him.
I’m confused when he doesn’t move. His eyebrows come together like he’s puzzled as he examines every detail of my face.
Then he brushes his thumb up the slope of my nose, smoothing between my eyebrows.
“You look so sad,” he murmurs, as if he’s not even aware of what he’s saying. “Like your picture.”
I stare at him, lost for words. I’ve developed a lot of fake smiles the last few months, and until today no one has noticed that they don’t reach my eyes the way they used to.
I open my mouth, caught between you’re imagining things and let me tell you everything.
In the end, I don’t say either. I wrap my fingers around his sturdy wrist and squeeze, then pull his arm down until we’re holding hands between our bodies.
“This is one day, no strings attached. I want it to be easy. Promise me you won’t ask. ”
He sighs, biting his lip uneasily, then shakes his head like a dog coming out of a lake. “I promise. This is your day. Let’s go have fun.”