Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Using the posted speed limit as a suggestion, Xander screeched into the parking lot on time.
I was about to congratulate him until I found out that on time is late in Xander world.
I hope for his sake that flash I saw while he fanged it through a yellow was the sun catching a mirror and not a red-light camera.
I’m not complaining about why we’re late. Not one bit. The legend of the sexual magician lives on. After two dates and getting to third base, I’m proud to say that of all the sleep study nights, this has been the best so far.
We arrived. We headed straight to our room. Then Ben came in to wire us up. And he was smiling. No annoyed “guys.” No grimacing. No scraping his hands over his face in frustration at the two of us.
Today, everything went off without a hitch. There was even a fist bump between Ben and Xander.
What a difference an orgasm makes.
Once Ben disappears, it’s nothing but Xander and me, our every bodily function being monitored via wires and a camera. You know, very relaxing.
And yet, I am relaxed.
I repeat: What a difference an orgasm makes.
“Are we finally clocking this sleep study?” I say into the darkness. I mean there is only one answer and it’s yes.
We’re lying next to each other and while I’m still aware that the hard lines of Xander’s body are in proximity, my body doesn’t malfunction like it used to. I almost find comfort in it. Call it exposure therapy.
“Xander?” I say, turning to face him when he doesn’t respond. Even though we’re in the dark, a sliver of moonlight through the curtain casts shadows on the tips of his eyelashes, and they’re downcast.
I scooch a little closer.
Those eyes are closed shut.
Holy shit. Xander’s asleep.
Xander Miller is sleeping.
What do I do? Do I call Ben in here? Does he need to be made aware of this development? It’s a fucking miracle. Give Dr. Waitley and her team all the awards.
I can’t look away. His curls fan across his forehead and the pillow. His half-moon scar on his lip looks a little less sharp. The frown lines that are usually etched into his forehead are softer.
He really is fucking beautiful.
I reach out to him, my fingertips gently smoothing the frown lines. His face relaxes instantly.
There’s a soft, sweet sound that comes on his next breath. It sounds like what I imagine peace sounds like. And I wonder how long it has been since Xander experienced peace. I like that I’m the person that gets to do that for him.
My hands freeze at this confession—this revelation.
Oh, fuck.
Alarm bells sound in my body, signaling a whole bunch of adrenaline to be dumped in my bloodstream. The pages of Mom’s book flick behind my eyes.
Chapter 1: Bonding Versus Boning & Why Oxytocin Is Cockblocking Your Sex Drive
Chapter 4: The Dating Delusion & Where Love and Lust Go To Die
Chapter 7: Monogamy, the Libido Killer & the Truth About Sexless Relationships
This can’t be happening.
Dating Xander is transactional. It’s as fake as my spray tan. Surely none of this applies to our situation. And yet, I can’t gaslight myself. Feelings have entered the chat. Sure, it was a brief moment. A single feel was given.
I blame Post-Orgasm Ash.
What an idiot. She got all up in her feelings.
My kingdom for a one-night stand instead of this mess.
I slip out of bed all stealth-like and grab my phone off the table. I look over and see that Xander hasn’t been disturbed. I can’t help but smile.
There I go again. Feeling. What, exactly?
I don’t know. Happy? Content? Gross. I wipe that smile off my face immediately.
Although, I can appreciate and marvel at the results of the sleep study.
Science and all. And so the enforced frown on my face turns upside down because it really is a miracle Xander is asleep and it’s only—I look at my phone—11PM.
Perfect. Em will most definitely still be up.
In the safety of the bathroom, I hit dial. She answers immediately, which tells me she’s been scrolling her phone on the sofa with something on in the background she’s seen a million times before that requires exactly three brain cells to follow.
“Chapter three,” I say. In the stark light of the bathroom, I don’t feel as sure of myself as I did in the darkness. I need reinforcements. I need my best friend to tell me that everything is going to be okay.
“Refresh my memory,” Em says. That’s the beauty of having a best friend like Em. It’s like our conversations are never-ending and so there’s never a need to interrupt with a basic salutation like, “Hi, how are you?”
“The paradox of sexual chemistry and why it evaporates once you care too much,” I say.
“Hold up. What happened?”
“Xander …” I start but stop myself. Where do I even begin? Xander finger banged me in the elevator, I rode his fingers like a cowgirl, he made me come so hard that the firefighters they sent didn’t do it for me—
“What?” Em reminds me I’m having this conversation in my head and not with her.
“Xander fell asleep,” I say, deciding that Xander’s manual labor is an entirely different conversation that we need to have over drinks.
“That’s amazing!”
“Nope,” I say, cutting her off before I chicken out on this conversation and truly gaslight myself. “I watched him in the dark.”
I suck in a breath, waiting for Em to jump in with a comment. Instead, the line remains silent, so I brace myself for what I’m going to say next. “I reached out and stroked his fucking face.”
“Okay,” Em says, slowly so as not to spook me.
Here goes nothing.
“And it felt good being there for him,” I say, punctuating every single word with disgust.
“Did you just say the F word?” Em says, almost choking on her own spit.
“Yes.”
“You have feelings?” Em asks, and this time I can tell she’s using her first-day-of-school-don’t-scare-the-freshmen voice. Don’t scare the emotionally unavailable woman.
“Xander is making me feel,” I say mincing the words.
Not taking responsibility. Because why would I?
“Chapter five: ‘The Trap of Passion: Why the People Who Make Your Heart Race Also Make Your Life Hell.’ ” I don’t have to read that chapter.
I lived it with my parents when The Cheating happened and my home became a war zone.
“I need an exit strategy from this sleep study, like now.”
“You’re not bailing on Xander because of feelings,” Em says, calling me out.
“Chapter seven—,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Fuck your mom’s book,” Em says, her voice morphing from caring to cutting.
“That book has sold millions of copies worldwide,” I say, defending the book and, by extension, my lifestyle.
“So has The Lord of the Rings. Do you believe hobbits exist?”
“I don’t understand the reference.” Of course I understand. I’m being a smartass. And Em knows this.
“It’s fiction,” Em says. This catches me off guard. “Catching feelings isn’t a death sentence.”
“Isn’t it?” I say, seeing red. I’m unable to keep my cool about the topic I’ve so carefully managed with my rules. “Because why would any parent put their kid through what I went through if it wasn’t absolutely fucking necessary?”
The line goes silent for a moment. No quick comeback.
I’m thankful for the respite.
“I’m sorry your parents are a bag of dicks,” she says, and a bubble of laughter escapes my lips. I’m so grateful for the comment. I wish she was here to hug. “But you’re wrong.”
“What?”
I hear her taking a deep breath. “Your negativity bias is showing.”
“You’re going to try and use science to change my mind? Really?” I say, unconvinced.
“What? I can read research papers too,” she says.
Before I can argue, she continues. “You know studies show that it takes five positive interactions to outweigh just one negative interaction in a relationship. And if you count how many interactions you’ve had with Xander …
” She doesn’t finish the sentence, letting me fill in the blanks.
I make a pfft sound, trying to show how unbothered I am that she’s using science against me. The truth is, I love/hate that she’s using science right now. She’s right, though. Negative bias in scientific theory is real.
“Catching feelings doesn’t mean you immediately have to get Xander’s name tattooed in an arrow heart across your forehead. It just means you acknowledge something is there, and you get to decide what to do with it.”
“It can mean nothing?”
“If that’s what you decide, yes,” she says.
What comes next from me is a mammoth sigh. Relief spreads through my shoulders and I drop them down an inch.
It can mean absolutely nothing. And while I might have to physically be in Xander’s presence for the rest of the sleep study, there’s my exit strategy.
“You make me feel warm and fuzzy inside,” I say to her. My way of thanking her.
“Hugs,” she says.
“Hugs,” I say back.
When I slowly close the door to our room, I turn around to see Xander awake.
“Come here,” he says, opening the duvet. It’s an invitation. But before my flight, fight, freeze response kicks in, I remind myself it’s not an invitation till death do us part, and I can do this. It doesn’t mean anything.
So I get into bed and snuggle Xander to sleep.
“Twizzlers for life,” I say, using my mouth to tear open the family-sized packet while clinging onto my third cup of coffee like my life depends on it. I hear Xander scoff next to me, and I turn to him and his heartbreaker Wayfarers. “Let me guess, you’re a Red Vines guy?”
“They’re both terrible options,” he says, shaking his head as he reaches for a packet of candy corn. I didn’t even know you could buy that shit outside of Halloween.
“That’s your idea of a good time?” I say, my turn to scoff.
“Party in my mouth,” he says, before he throws a single piece into the air and catches it between his lips. He looks over at me, chewing vigorously on the hardened piece of trash candy before driving us out of the parking lot.