Chapter 3 #3
He stood up and paced across the room, and went to stand by the window.
“To this day, I still don't know the exact cause of what happened.
Just stress, maybe?" He sighed. "It can be hard, sometimes, being in my family.
Delia and Duncan both know and have always known what they want out of life—they love the bar.
They love bartending. They love being part of the family business, the history, and all that shit.
I just…don't. It's not for me. I'm proud of the family business, and I can, have, and will pitch in and help when I'm needed, but tending or managing one of the Badd bars is just not my career path.
The shitty thing is, I don't know what my path is, just that it's not that.
" He glanced at me. "This is relevant, I promise. Sunni, my sister Emerson, is the same, but she has talents, you know? She’s a badass.
And then there's me. No clue what I want.
No obvious talents. Like, sure, I'm pretty athletic, but I'm not a football hero or some shit.
I'm not going pro is my point. I'm taking classes at UAS Ketchikan.
Gen Ed classes, mostly. I was in the middle of studying for finals, and I had this algebra class. "
I fake gagged. "Fuck math."
He snorted at my reaction. "Exactly. Fuck math.
My other classes weren't hard, exactly, but I still had to study to pass the finals. Not like I had to cram for the algebra final, but still a lot of studying. I was stressed the fuck out because I just couldn’t get this one set of problems. I'd worked through them half a dozen times, and I was just missing some step or some shit, I dunno.
Didn't have the answer in my notes, and I didn't have any phone numbers for anyone in my class.
So I was freaking the fuck out. If I fucked that whole section, I'd fail the final and the class.
And my family? We do not fail. It's not like Mom and Dad are breathing down my neck threatening to crucify me if I fail a math class, but you just…
everyone in my family is so goddamned successful.
It was fucking my head to pieces. So I thought, eh, fuck it, I'll take a break.
Wound up at a party on a houseboat, chatting up this girl.
She was backpacking North America or some lunacy like that.
She'd hiked from LA to Ketchikan and was planning on hiking east across Canada.
I dunno. Sounded pretty fuckin' ambitious to me, but whatever.
She was leaving in a day or two, so it felt like a pretty good way to relax, y'know? Blow off some steam."
"Makes sense to me," I said. "I'd do the same thing."
"I wasn't drunk. I was barely even tipsy. I was into her." He eyed me, hesitating.
I rolled my eyes. “Just tell it like I'm a bro, Dane."
He chuckled. "Fine. She was hot as fuck, okay?
Nice body, pretty face, great hair. She was interesting, too.
I genuinely liked her, like as a person, not just because she had a great rack but when we started making out, I just…
my dick didn't work. I…even after getting her top off, nothing. Not even a twitch behind the zipper—nada. She tried to help, god bless her. But I just…I felt like I was gonna cum, but I never even got to a half-chub. It was fucking mortifying. I had no excuse. Wasn’t drunk, hadn't even been drinking booze, just a few beers.
I was intentionally not getting lit because I had finals.
I just…fuck, it was horrible. She was a sweetheart about it, though.
I promised her it wasn't her, and she was nice as hell about it.
Didn't say a word of criticism or whatever.
She did cut out pretty fast, though, and I'm pretty sure she ended up with someone else on the boat.
I went home and went back to studying, feeling like a complete and total loser.
" He exhaled roughly, scrubbing his face with both hands.
"Never told anyone about that, not even Dunc.
" He glanced at me. "Not sure why I told you, to be honest."
I couldn't help myself—I stood behind him and up close on his left side. "I think if anyone can get how that feels, Dane, it would be me."
He shot me a look over his shoulder. "Oh yeah?"
"Look, I get what you're saying about sex and identity.
More so than you can know. Men and their penises, right?
Just going back to the sex toy topic real quick—I get what you're saying.
If you take pride in being able to please and satisfy your partner, her needing or wanting something more than you, I can see how that would be a little…
threatening. But that's not what it is, for me. "
He frowned at me. "But that night, Linz. Unless you were faking it, and I really don't think you were, you had no problems getting off with me, and you didn't use a toy."
I swallowed hard. "I wasn’t faking, I promise. I’ve never, ever faked an orgasm. I wouldn't. I'm not here to protect some dude's fragile little ego by pretending he made me come when he didn't."
"I know," he murmured. "That tracks with what I know about you."
"You…" I bit my lip, started over. "I didn't have any problems with you.
Maybe I'm just more comfortable with you?
I dunno, Dane. That's…that's partly why I bolted.
It was intense—too intense, almost. You made me feel like no one else I've hooked up with ever has. It scared me. But I do have trouble reaching orgasm during sex. Not all the time, but pretty frequently. I don’t always know why, either.
You'd think it'd be a chemistry thing, like some guys I feel better with than others, right?
But I've had trouble with guys I felt pretty safe with, and no trouble with guys I felt…
I mean, safe, but not…not as strong of a connection, I guess. "
"Sex is complicated—the human body is complicated," Dane said. "And I know with women, especially, it's super connected to your emotional or mental state. Or maybe emotional and mental state is a better way to put it."
"Facts," I said. "I wish I had more answers, but I don't. I just know that there's been quite a few situations where I would have liked to have been able to use a toy during sex.
I'd have been able to finish instead of feeling stuck and frustrated.
And it's not about you—meaning, who I'm with.
" I frowned. "I mean, maybe it is, in a way.
But it's me…my body. And if I want to use a toy, it's not a statement about your lack of performance or ability.
It's not that I'm not enjoying it. I just…
sometimes it's hard for me to get there, and a toy would help.
And honestly, in those situations, a toy would benefit both of us.
I'd come faster, and maybe even more than once.
I wouldn't feel frustrated, and I'd want it again. Which means more sex with me for you."
Dane spent a while considering this. "That…makes sense," he said eventually. "You've definitely given me something to think about." He laughed. "You know, I don't remember how we got on this topic." A wave of his hand. "Doesn't matter."
I waited—expecting questions. Demands for answers. Instead, he turned, took my hand, and returned us to the couch. Handed me the remote. "I know you picked that show just to be a dick, Linz. Now pick something you actually want to watch."
“You won't like it," I warn.
"You don't know that."
I sighed. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
I put on Love is Blind because I had four episodes left in the season before the reunion aired in a day or two, and I wanted to be caught up. But, of course, I had to pause it and explain the show to him so he'd have a clue what was going on.
"So…they never saw each other, just talked to each other in the cubicles?" he asked.
“The pods, yes."
"And then they get engaged, which is when they meet in person for the first time?”
"Right," I said, "And then they live together to see if their relationship survives."
"Does it work?"
I shrugged. "I think they have a better percentage of successful relationships than other dating shows, but most don't, so no, not really."
"Interesting," he said. "Well, play that shit, babe. You've got my interest."
"Wait, really?"
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s an interesting premise. I still think dating shows as a genre are sadistic bullshit, but this sounds kinda different."
We talked as much as we watched. We drank box wine, ate junk food, and talked about dating shows and reality TV in general. He told me some stories—which seemed highly unlikely to be true—about his family history when it came to relationships.
"Wait, so…your Aunt Joss fell into the Passage in the middle of the winter, your uncle Lucian jumped in and saved her…and that's their meet-cute? That's how they met? And they're still together?"
"I mean, there's a lot more to it, but yeah. All my aunts and uncles have these crazy, interesting stories. Shit, Delia met Hunter when he came up here to try and buy out our company."
I groaned. "Can we not talk about Hunter Hawkins, please?"
He cackled. "And why would that be, Lindsey?"
“Because I’ve harbored a not-so-secret crush on the man for years…as in I used to make collages of cut-outs of him from magazines back in his billionaire playboy days." I covered my face. "And now he's married to my best friend's husband's sister. It just feels like a cruel, cosmic joke."
Dane, to my surprise, didn't make fun of me. "Yeah, I get it. Hawk is…he's even cooler in real life. It can be hard to not feel a little inferior around the pretty bastard, to be honest."
"Hawk? You call him Hawk?" I groaned. "Come on.”
"It's his nickname for friends and family. Although Dee doesn't call him that." He laughed. “You really do have it bad, don't you?"
"I do. It's embarrassing. I know it's dumb. I've always known it was just a stupid, childish celebrity crush. It's just a funny irony that he ends up in the orbit of my life."
The conversation tapered off, then, as I got more and more drowsy.
I felt myself slipping toward sleep and then nodding off.
At some point, I became vaguely aware that the TV sounds had shifted from my show to what sounded like a nature documentary.
Something firm was under my cheek. Warm, firm, and more comfortable than any pillow.
Three-quarters asleep, I found myself wondering at something: at no point since he'd been here had Dane made any kind of move or play.
Even his flirtation was restrained, and I had a feeling flirty was a core trait for him.
He hadn't touched me. Hadn't asked any hard or deep questions.
Hadn't demanded answers as to why I'd behaved like I had, even though he'd been pushing for those answers when he was on the other side of the door.
He'd just…hung out with me.
"Dane?" I mumbled.
"Yeah, Linz?"
"I thought you were going to demand answers."
"Changed my mind."
"I thought you'd try to kiss me or something."
"Much as a big part of me wants to more than anything…no."
"Why? To both."
His arm encircled my shoulder, held me against him. “Because that's not what you need right now, Lindsey."
I felt a hot bubble in my throat. Turmoil in my heart. Confusion in my mind.
I let him in, fully expecting to have to explain why I'm not in a frisky mood. I expected to have to unearth all my shit for him, because he absolutely deserves an explanation.
Instead, he was just…my friend.
When it would appear, that's exactly what I needed.
Dane rotated ninety degrees on the couch, taking me with him as he stretched out. My face was on his chest, his arm slung low over my back. He snagged the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over us both.
"…the albatross pair will spend the next sixty to eighty days taking turns incubating the single, precious egg. The female will lay her egg and immediately fly away to find food while her mate incubates the egg. When she returns, it will be the male's turn…"
Sleep dragged me under, then, and it was a deep, sound, dreamless sleep.