13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Riley
I set the timer on my phone one more time and ran back to pose with my first day of school sign. This would have been so much easier if Emery hadn’t left so early to start her route. A notification flashed across the top of my phone. My eyes registered Matt’s name just as the phone snapped the picture. Swiping to view the photo showed that the notification had finally managed to put a genuine smile on my tired face. I had been trying so hard to get it just right that the frustration had been clear for the last several tries.
Matt
Good luck today! Those kids are going to love you.
His message was followed by a selfie of him giving a thumbs up in his car. I could see his backpack and lunch box in his passenger seat. His hair looked like he’d already been running his hand through it this morning and a pair of dark tortoiseshell rectangle glasses were perched on his nose. I remembered seeing those glasses in one of the photos on his profile but he hadn’t worn them around me yet. He wore a burgundy polo shirt with the Grassy Middle School logo on the chest. I typed out a quick reply.
Riley
The hot nerdy teacher look looks good on you.
I sent him the photo I’d just taken. One hand had a white knuckle grip on the sign that said, my first year teaching!. Today’s date and first grade were written underneath. My other hand held up one finger in front of my bright smile. My oversized tote bag pulled down one shoulder of my thin pencil patterned cardigan layered over a pale-yellow maxi dress. I looked so dorky but the smile on my face was so priceless I couldn’t bring myself to try for a less dorky take. I was going to be late if I kept trying.
I scrolled back to Matt’s photo and smiled.
The excitement for today kept me up almost all night. Matt had stayed up with me on the phone until sometime around midnight when he fell asleep leaving me listening to his soft breathing. That brought me back to the night last week that we had fallen asleep on the couch, which led to a spiral of increasingly panicked thoughts about what we were doing. My brain had finally let me fall asleep around 3 am only to be awoken by my alarm at 5:30.
I think that’s the first time you’ve called me hot.
Better be careful, that might go to my head.
My cheeks heated as I stared at the quick message I’d sent without thinking. It wasn’t that big of a deal, right? We had been clear that we were both interested in the other, of course it would be normal for me to call him hot. Except, it wasn’t normal for me. It was a term that my brain applied to anyone so easily.
It didn’t make sense the way that we had bonded so easily, that I had become so attached to him this quickly. The butterflies and electricity I had felt on our first date had been bizarre enough. None of this was normal for me.
I didn’t just take forever to fall in love. Even while sharing our relationship history with each other I had been too scared to tell him, to tell anyone ever, the whole truth. For so long I thought that something was wrong with me. There was a reason I had been confused about how quickly I found myself attracted to Matt, a reason why I always felt like I didn’t understand how others could be immediately attracted to a stranger. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I exhaled.
I had never talked to anyone about how I identified, hadn’t even really put much thought into myself until my college roommate told me she wanted to come out. It had taken me years to find the labels that worked for me, and by then telling them to anyone had felt unnecessary. My relationship history had everyone assuming I was just bisexual, which while partially true never felt like it completely described me.
I wasn’t walking around experiencing physical attraction to strangers. I didn’t look at people and think about dating them just because I felt a spark with them. The spark came later, sometimes not even until after I was looking for it.
All my friends used to think I was lying when I told them I didn’t have crushes when we were younger, when I didn’t join in conversations about how hot boys were. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I heard the term demisexual for the first time that I felt like I finally understood all the things I had been so confused about. Demisexuallity, like all other sexualities, is a spectrum that can be different for each person. It was dumb to feel embarrassed about, but the feeling always crept up when I even thought about trying to explain it to someone. Up until now my experience had always followed the same formula, but meeting Matt had thrown everything off. There was no doubt in my mind that the few days we spent texting before ever meeting helped to build the emotional bond that I needed, otherwise meeting him for the first time would have gone differently.
It still didn’t make sense that the connection had formed so fast. I couldn’t explain that part. My brain felt scrambled as my thoughts raced. This was such a stupid thing to be panicking over. I called him hot, so what? I was attracted to him enough to enjoy the way it felt when he touched me innocently, to think about kissing him.
I focused on remembering the way I felt when he touched me. It was nice, electric and comforting at the same time. He made me feel safe and heard. It didn’t stir up any other thoughts. No pressure between my legs or desire to rip off his clothes. There was nothing past wanting to be around him and continuing with the physical contact we frequently shared. Realizing that was comforting, a reminder that who I thought I was hadn’t just flown out the window because things were moving faster than I was used to.
This was so much easier when it was just going to be a one-time thing.
Gotcha. No more compliments.
Ugh, you look like such a nerd.
*winky emoji*
My hands shook as I reached for my thermos filled with an embarrassing amount of espresso shots and a touch of hazelnut creamer. I thought I was going to need every bit of this to get through the day, but talking to Matt gave me more of a zap of energy than caffeine ever could.
***
Matt
Have middle schoolers always been this mean?
Riley
I think they get worse every year.
Those kids are fearless. Consequences mean nothing to them. There’s a reason I prefer elementary school age kids.
I don’t think I got bullied this badly when I was in middle school.
For the record, I was a nerd. I was bullied A LOT.
I think we already established that you're still a nerd.
You can’t let them see you get upset. If you don’t give them a reaction, they get bored.
I think my mom told me that once.
It doesn’t work. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Do I need to come defend your honor? We made pirate swords during craft time. We could ride to your rescue after recess.
My hero! *swoon*