Chapter 8 Leo
Chapter eight
Leo
NOW
My main thought as I pulled Miranda against me was that it was a good thing I’d had a rare jerk-off session in the shower before bed. At least I wouldn’t need to worry about my dick misbehaving.
When I’d gotten up to fill my water bottle, I heard her stirring in the guest room. I debated not saying anything—not wanting to push my luck after the fantastic day we’d had—but ultimately, I couldn’t resist.
I’d always offered her comfort, and we’d shared a bed more times than I could count. Enough for me to know that it helped her sleep. At least it had in the past.
She didn’t know that my thinking had evolved. That the bed we shared was less neutral than she might believe.
But if I could play the role of fake boyfriend in public to save Stone, then I could play the role of unaffected platonic best friend behind closed doors to make Miranda feel better.
That was why, as I drifted off to sleep, I reminded myself for the millionth time that it wasn’t just Miranda I held in my arms.
It was Stone Caseman’s girlfriend.
20 MONTHS AGO - MARCH
The drive from the restaurant to Miranda’s apartment probably should have been tense. Except it was us, and we weren’t that way.
I’d known I wanted to talk to her about this for a while. The woman at the restaurant had simply opened the door.
We moved to the couch as soon as we came in. One cushion held the stack of sheets and blankets I was using for sleeping, so we sat close together on the other side. I pulled her legs across my thighs and settled my hands on her calves.
“Alright, Leo. I’ve been patient. What is this obviously significant thing you need to tell me? Are you dying or something?”
I took a deep breath, exhaling it loudly. She immediately sat straighter.
“Oh my god! Is that it? You don’t want to get too close because you’re sick?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.” Patting her shin, I managed the semblance of a smile. After giving me a once-over as though to confirm there were no visible terminal illnesses, she relaxed back against the cushions.
“Then what?”
I rubbed her ankles absently, grounding myself.
“Maybe I should start at the end, when we were at the restaurant earlier.” She bobbed her head.
“The reason I’m sometimes a bit touch-feely with you—sorry, I can’t think of a better way to phrase it—and the reason I liked it when that woman thought I was your boyfriend, is because those aren’t things I’ve really gotten to experience. ”
Her jaw flexed. “Leo, I know we haven’t talked about this stuff much. Which is kind of weird when you think about it since we talk about everything else. But are you trying to say that you haven’t had a lot of girlfriends?… Or boyfriends?”
“It would be girlfriends, if it were anything. At least I’m pretty sure.” I dragged a hand over my face. “Being with you makes me feel like everyone else, like I get to have the same things most people take for granted.”
She worried her lower lip. “I’m trying to understand here. I really am. And maybe I’m thick, but I’m not following. It’s okay if you're not into me and want to just be friends. I meant it when I said I was fine with that.”
“It’s not that I want to be just friends with you, Panda. It’s that I can’t be anything other than just friends with you.”
“Because of Marley and James?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Her expression pinched. “Are you in danger or something? About to enter witness protection?”
I released a gruff laugh. “Nothing that interesting.”
“Then you’re gonna need to help me out here. I’m running out of ideas and—”
“I’m ace—”
“Explana—… Wait. What?”
“Ace. Asexual.” My slow-motion circles over her ankles continued. “I don’t experience sexual attraction to women. To anyone.”
She flinched but recovered quickly, placing her hand over mine to still my movements. “I know what asexual is.”
“So you understand?”
Her head nodded subtly, and for a minute she appeared lost in her own thoughts.
Finally, she spoke. “Now that you say it, it makes perfect sense. Explains so much…” Bemusedly, she added, “I’m a little annoyed with myself that the thought hadn’t occurred to me.”
I chuffed. “Honestly, I do my best not to advertise it. But what I realized at the restaurant, and what I knew almost from the first moment we met, is that I feel different with you than I do with anyone else. It’s not attraction per se, not in the way most people think of it, but from the beginning, I’ve experienced a level of comfort with you, an awareness that I haven’t felt with anyone in a long time.
When the woman at the restaurant called me your boyfriend, I liked leaning into that, even for a few moments.
” I inhaled another deep breath, and my chest tightened with purpose.
“I couldn’t go another day without telling you I’ve been letting myself have these moments, that I’m letting myself touch you and speak to you and be more intimate with you than I’ve been with anyone since my early twenties, when I figured out my asexuality.
It felt wrong not to say it out loud, almost like I was using you.
And now that you know, you can tell me to fuck off if you don’t want me holding your hand or hugging you or whatever. ”
The fan kicked on, the rumbling noise punctuating my words. Miranda stared at me before her eyes drifted downward to land on the place where my palm held her ankle.
“It’s hard to imagine a scenario where I’d ever tell you to fuck off,” she said quietly. “And now that you’ve explained, I think I get it. Really, it’s kind of an ego boost to know that I’m the person you’re comfortable with… But can I be equally honest with you?”
“Of course.”
“If you weren’t ace and had been interested in pursuing something with me, I would have been open to it.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that because I think I can change your mind or anything.
I’m clear on what asexual means, and obviously, I respect your identity.
But I was feeling the same way you were, like it was past time to be honest about where my head was at.
It felt gross being attracted to you without telling you, especially when you’ve been so clear that you only want to be friends. ”
I pulled her closer until her head rested against my chest. “We are a matched set, aren’t we?”
She burrowed into me. “Where does this leave us?”
“You really don’t care that I’m ace?”
“Why would I? If anything, I’m grateful for the context,” she murmured. “As long as you don’t care that when I see you without your shirt, it sometimes makes me want to lick you.”
God, she really was my favorite person. “I take that as a compliment. Please ogle me all you want.”
“Deal. As long as you touch me, hold my hand, and do whatever floats your boat to show affection.”
“You wouldn’t think of that as taking advantage?”
“No. You’ve been clear, and I trust your words, so there are no mixed signals. And I enjoy our closeness too.”
I squeezed my eyes together, resting my chin on her head. “You have no idea how grateful I am for what you’re offering, and for being able to communicate about everything.”
“Did you really think I wouldn’t be okay with this? That I would judge you?”
“Not really. But I’ve had a few unpleasant experiences.”
“I’m sorry, Bear.” She drew Xs over my heart with her pointer finger.
“S’okay. That’s why I don’t really talk about it. Easier to hide than risk blowing up people’s expectations.”
“Ah…I understand.” She peeked up with a devilish glint. “People assume because you look like Thor that you must be interested in hammering?”
I laughed. “Jesus, Panda.”
“Thunder between the sheets?”
This woman. My grip on her tightened.
“God of the bedroom?”
I kissed the top of her head. “I’m so thankful for you,” I mumbled into her hair. “But in all seriousness, I decided a long time ago not to talk about it. Even James and my parents don’t know.”
I didn’t go into detail. Maybe someday I’d tell Miranda about how I’d forced myself to try things when I was younger, thinking I just needed to find the right situation and get some experience under my belt.
About how my college girlfriend broke up with me because of my lackluster performance in the bedroom.
How I’d dated girl after girl in my early twenties, hoping to generate the spark everyone else seemed to feel.
Eventually, I’d stopped trying because I felt so uncomfortable rebuffing their advances.
Cringing, I thought of the girls who’d angrily accused me of leading them on.
I’d made women upset when they interpreted my lack of sexual interest as me thinking they were undesirable.
I didn’t know how to explain myself to them when I wasn’t sure about things in my mind.
When I was twenty-three, I met Ilona, and she was the first person I had something of a genuine connection with. Feeling a seed of a romantic bond, I thought maybe I’d conquered whatever had been holding me back.
I got to know her, we went on some promising dates, and I began introducing her as my girlfriend.
It elated me to feel so normal. But our bedroom problems started almost immediately.
I couldn’t get hard all the time, and I didn’t want intimacy as often as she did.
There was no way to hide how unenthusiastic I was about going down on her.
Ilona was the first person to propose to me that I might be asexual. Once she said it, I did some research, and everything clicked.
Asexuality was a huge spectrum, different for everyone, but the idea of not being sexually attracted to anyone resonated with me.
And I had an aha moment when I connected the dots that my place on the ace continuum extended to having very few close friendships.
I realized how difficult it was for me to connect with anyone in a truly emotional way.
I was tight enough with my family, and I had some people I considered “good” friends, but even with them, it took a while to get there.
“It really is too bad,” Ilona had said, walking out of my apartment for the last time. “You’re so hot. What a waste.”
Those final words, somehow both bitter and passive-aggressive, stuck with me. Echoed through the room and my brain. Stayed with me afterward. Was I a waste? I wrestled with that idea for a long time. Years. If I couldn’t be someone’s lover, was I less of a person?
Over time, I rejected the premise. I couldn’t be a lover or an intimate friend. But I could be a good brother, a gym buddy, an excellent construction worker. I could have a fulfilling life.
Then Miranda laughed with me in her sister’s carport and immediately guessed that people compared me to Thor.
She liked the same things I did, called me Leo-Bear, and told me how she wasn’t quite the person everyone thought she was.
I recognized a kindred spirit, and for the first time in forever, I felt an immediate connection to someone.
Comfortable enough to touch her. And be myself with her.
It wasn’t romance or sexual attraction, but it was love, in its way.
And if she was willing, I planned to share it with her however she’d let me.
“I’m glad you told me,” Miranda said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “It’s brave of you to speak your truth. To own it. And I love you so much, Bear. You’re even more my best friend now.”
I ran my hand up and down her back. “Thank you.”
She chuffed. “We certainly are good, both of us, at putting on faces for everyone.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Keeping things copacetic. We can’t help what comes naturally.”
“True. But when it’s just us, let’s always be real.”
“Deal.” I kissed the top of her head again.
She sighed into my chest, and my dick twitched.
Wait…
My dick twitched?
What the fuck?