Chapter Ten #2
She sighed as if she was all out of patience and I knew a truth bomb was about to drop.
“If you’re already trying to censor yourself and what you want—like having dinner with friends—because of a guy, then he’s not the one for you.
It’s okay if he doesn’t want to join you, that’s perfectly fine.
But it’s also perfectly fine for you to go without him and not feel bad about it.
You’re still at the getting-to-know-him stage which means he needs to learn what to expect from you, too.
All this walking around on eggshells and overthinking everything when it comes to him isn’t fair to either of you.
Be honest with him and ask him; his answer might surprise you.
He might surprise you. He’s a grown man. He can make his own decisions.”
Right, then.
I looked at Gunter. He was trying not to smile. “So there you have it,” I said. “Reality check 101. I’m seeing Deacon today, hopefully. I’ll ask him then.”
Gunter clapped my shoulder. “Good. I’ll let you know details. It won’t be all of us. Maybe six or so? It could be a good icebreaker for Deacon.” Just then, customers came in, and Gunter gave me a nod. “I better let you go. Have a good day.”
“Same to you,” I said, and he went on his way. I turned my attention to the customers, to the store, to the inventory, to the ringing phone, to more customers who were all absolutely besotted with my baby carrier and the world’s two cutest kittens.
It was a good distraction. It kept me focused and busy. Pretty much for the rest of the morning, it kept my mind off Deacon.
Ro was right. She always was.
My idea of micro-dating until Deacon was more comfortable might have been well-intended, but perhaps entirely misguided. Because what if I wanted more than that? What if he did?
In my attempt to be over-considerate toward him, I hadn’t considered him at all.
The truth was, if things with Deacon and me were heading in the direction I hoped they were, then we needed to talk about expectations and boundaries.
Yep. We needed to talk.
Time got away from me, as it did when busy, but I was stopped in my tracks when the bell above the door chimed at 11:50 a.m., and when I turned to greet the customer, I saw who it was.
Deacon, holding two white paper bags and a takeout tray with two cups. He was wearing jeans and a winter coat and beanie, his cheeks and nose pink in the cutest way ever. He was smiling and a little breathless.
“Oh hi,” I said, my voice quieter and breathier than I’d intended.
“Hello. I’m early. I was, according to my father, insufferable and not entirely useful this morning, so he sent me on my lunch break early.” He swallowed hard, his gaze lasered to mine, intense, and it made my heart stutter. “If that’s okay . . . I should have messaged beforehand.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, walking over to him. I put my hand out, wanting so badly to touch him, but stopped myself, pulling back just shy of contact. “Come in. Are you warm? It’s cold out today.”
“I’m okay. I walked fast from the diner.
I bought you a toasted sandwich and a hot chocolate.
I took a guess. I should have asked. But I ordered a ham and cheese, and a chicken and cheese.
I’ll have whichever one you don’t want.” He licked his lips, frowning.
“Or I can go back and get you something else.”
“I eat either of those,” I said, smiling at just how stinking cute he was. “Thank you so much. It’s very thoughtful.”
He gave a nod, his cheeks pinker now. So, not from the cold?
Ro came over holding my jacket and gloves. “Go, have lunch. The boys are asleep. I’ll hold the fort here.” She shooed me off. “Go on. Go.” Then she looked at Deacon. “Thank you for looking after him.”
He gave her a nod and looked away nervously. “It’s my pleasure,” he mumbled.
Oh my god.
His manners. So freaking polite. I just wanted to squeeze him. Which, of course, I couldn’t.
Ro gave me a look that told me she thought he was adorable, and I wanted to let out a squeeeeee but didn’t do that either. I’d totally freak out with her later . . .
I pulled on my coat and gloves and held the door for Deacon. I gave Ro a parting smile but she was already serving a customer, so I closed the door to keep the chill out.
Deacon stood there, waiting.
I nodded toward the river at the end of the short road. “Shall we go this way?” He fell into step beside me. “I’ve never really seen the river,” I said. “I mean, I know it’s there. I can hear it, and I park my car behind the store, so I’ve technically seen it. But I’ve never taken much notice.”
“In summer, it’s good for fishing. And swimming, but further south. Not so much here. They used to swim down along Ponderosa Road, but it was too dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
He nodded. “A boy fell in a few Christmases ago. At the Christmas festival. They close off the street and there’s food and craft stalls and a mini train ride for the kids.
The firetruck comes down. It’s one of my favorite nights of the year.
The whole town comes to it, and two Christmases ago, a small boy fell in. Deputy Price jumped in and saved him.”
“Oh my goodness. Were they okay?”
“Yes.”
We got to the edge of the river. There were trees and a path where I’d seen people walking dogs that ran adjacent to Main Street behind the shops.
But the incline down was almost a gorge, the steep rocky sides looked dark and dangerous, the water deep and freezing.
Ice and snow clung to the edges, the water moving fast.
I pointed down to it, horrified. “He fell in there?”
Deacon pointed further down. “Down near the big Christmas tree. It’s not as steep.” He held the cup tray out. “Hot chocolate?”
“Oh yes, please.” I took one, and between the two of us, we divided the sandwiches. I bit into mine, warm and gooey and delicious. “So, your dad said you were distracted at work today?”
“Yes. But insufferable and not entirely useful were the words he used,” he said, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Distracted sounds better.”
He sipped his hot chocolate. “I was nervous and excited about seeing you today, and I kept watching the clock. I couldn’t concentrate very well. He normally keeps me busy because he knows I get like this.” He winced. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“If I know I have something coming up, I fixate . . .” He made a face that was sorry and sad. “And I know saying things like that out loud makes some people uncomfortable.”
“Not me,” I said, giving him a smile. “If you feel it, you can tell me. I like that you talk about it. It’s better than hiding it. Some guys never talk about feelings and that’s way worse.”
He glanced at me but quickly looked back to the river. “Do you talk to other guys . . . about this stuff?”
I bit into my sandwich and shook my head as I swallowed. “Nope. I have dated other guys back in my hometown. But they never lasted very long. And they never talked about how they felt until it wasn’t worth talking about.”
“Because you’re asexual?”
“Yes. In a nutshell, that’s what it always came down to.” I sighed but smiled when he looked at me. “I am who I am, and I’m comfortable with that. If they don’t like that, then I’m not the person for them.”
He smiled at the river as he ate the last of his sandwich, his nose and cheeks the color of cherry blossoms. “I am who I am too. I know what people say about me. My dad says my brain is just wired different from other people, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less of a person.”
“You’re absolutely not any less a person, Deacon. I happen to like you exactly the way you are.”
His blush deepened. “I like you too.” His eyes met mine then, and the intensity was a fire burning into me.
“I feel all jittery when I think about you and I can’t concentrate, like my synapses aren’t firing.
I’ve been sending you quotes of poetry because you said you like them and I don’t really know how else to tell you without getting it wrong, or overwhelming . . . it’s a lot, inside my head . . .”
I couldn’t help but smile, even though he looked about ready to bolt.
I lifted my hand slowly, and not touching him exactly, I held the front of his coat.
“Hey,” I whispered. He kept his eyes cast downward and to the side, but he didn’t pull away.
“I feel all jittery when I think of you too. And your poetry every morning at eight o’clock sharp has been the absolute highlight of my day. ”
His eyes met mine then. “It has?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. And it’s funny that you said you’ve been trying not to overwhelm me because I’ve been trying not to overwhelm you either. I thought maybe if we only saw each other for short periods of time, like a lunch break, that we’d get used to each other in small steps, you know?”
He nodded quickly.
“And our jobs have kept us busy this week, so it worked out well.”
“Yes.”
“But I realized that I was setting these boundaries without asking what you wanted. If you’re happy with a lunch break during the week and maybe a dinner once a week.
Or if you want to see me more often than that?
Or less?” I still had hold of his coat, just holding it lightly, gently, but not wanting to let go. “What do you want to do, Deacon?”
“More. I want to see you more, if that’s what you want. I know I’m different—”
“You’re not different,” I said. “You’re perfectly you.”
“I don’t . . . I don’t know what . . . I-I don’t know what I can do . . . what I can do—” He cringed and said nothing more.
“You don’t know what you can do about what?” I asked, concerned at his sudden spike in anxiety.
He cheeks went dark red and his eyelids fluttered. “I can’t . . . touching or kissing. I can’t even hold your hand. I want to. I want to do that but I—” He shook his head. “If you want that, I can’t . . . then I’m not the one for you.”