Chapter Seventeen The Naked Truth
I was busy planning the proposal for the next while.
It had to be special, and I wanted to surprise him.
The first thing I had to do was to get him a ring.
I decided to make one. I talked to Ben—not about who I was making it for or why—about how to do it, since Ben was good with his hands, and he’d mentioned taking a class at someone’s house in the Annex.
He gave me her number, and she set things up so I could go to her place over my lunch hours for the next couple weeks. That way, Eddie wouldn’t find out.
I didn’t know what his ring size was. One night when we were watching another one of his movies (he only had a minor part, but I wanted to watch it to the end to see his name in the credits), I was holding his hand on my lap with our palms pressed together, trying to figure out which of my fingers was the closest size to his, when I realized he didn’t wear rings or any jewelry, or... ?
“Eddie? Do you have any tats?”
“No. Do you?”
“No. I’m not into pain.”
“You know,” he said, “we wouldn’t need to have this conversation if we’d seen each other naked.”
I let go of his hand.
“That day I took you to the set with me, when we were in the trailer, I started to take my shirt off, and you looked away. How come?”
“I was uncomfortable.”
“You got a problem seeing people naked?”
“Not people in general. In my old tap company, we all used to get changed in the same room—men and women together. I guess other people saw me naked then, but I didn’t care. And I never had a problem getting naked with my girlfriends. But it’s different with you.”
“Because I’m a guy?”
“Because you’re my boyfriend.”
“It should be easier because I’m your boyfriend. I want to see you naked. Do you not want to see me naked too? You’ve already seen my dick, and that’s the scariest part of me.”
I didn’t know how to explain that if I saw him without his clothes, it would ruin everything. I felt nervous like I hadn’t since before we got together.
“What’s wrong?” he said.
“I dunno. I guess it’s a process, like you said, and part of it’s being exposed and seeing you exposed. It’s easier doing it with our clothes on. Even if it means shooting myself every time we fool around. I can’t explain it. It just feels right to me.”
“Why don’t we take it slow, then?” he said. “Would you be okay taking off your shirt?”
I felt guilty saying no, like I was rejecting him, which I knew would hurt him. But I shook my head.
“What if I turned the lights off?”
“Uh...”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” he said. “Do you want me to take my shirt off?”
I looked at the floor. “Only if you want to.”
“I can tell you don’t want me to. Do you want me to take your shirt off?”
“No!”
He flinched.
I’d never snapped at him before, but he was starting to scare me.
“Sorry,” I said.
“How about we just hold each other, and you can put your hand under my shirt and touch me?”
“I could do that.”
He lay across my lap. I let my hand rest on him. It was him. It was okay. We went back to watching the movie.
As the movie went on, I let my hand wander to the hem of his T-shirt.
When he didn’t move, I slipped my hand underneath.
His skin was warm and silky. And I wasn’t tense anymore.
I felt him up under his shirt and then I touched his nipple.
Most of my ex-girlfriends had liked it when I did that.
I didn’t know how a guy would respond. I pressed my thumbnail into his nipple and felt it tighten.
He was breathing harder, so I moved my hand slowly down his belly, finding and following the trail of hair running from his belly button.
I paused at his belt, fingering him along the edge of his waistband.
He locked eyes with mine, and I slowly unbuckled his belt, popped the button of his jeans, slid my hand inside, and touched him. He was pretty hard.
“Okay?” I said.
“Yeah.” His voice went hoarse the way it did when he was turned on.
I pushed my hand in deeper and enclosed him, then I started to stroke.
“Craig.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.”
I stopped. “Don’t you want to?”
“Yeah.”
“Then, I want you to.”
I stroked him again, faster. Till now, I’d only ever blown him, so I never saw his face when he shot. I kissed him, because he looked pretty hot right then, and I kept going till he arched his back and shot in my hand. I held him till he was done. Then I gently pulled my hand out.
He was still getting his breath back. I kissed him again and gently eased him off my lap.
Then I got up to wash my hand and get him a glass of water.
He was lying flat out on the couch. I put the water on the coffee table.
He reached for it, but his hand was shaking, so I picked up the glass and brought it to his mouth so he could drink.
Then I moved him to the back of the couch and climbed onto it beside him so we were lying face-to-face. Then we started fooling around again. He was still shaky after shooting, and that made it hotter.
“You want me to blow you?” he said.
He’d never offered before, and I’d never asked.
“You’ve gotta let me take care of you sometimes,” he said. “You took care of me.”
“You said blow jobs were hard work.”
“It wouldn’t feel like work with you.”
“I’m not ready for that,” I said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. What do you want?”
“I wanna go to bed and hold you till we fall asleep.”
“You’re easy to please.”
So we went to bed, and I held him, so loose and relaxed because of what I’d done for him. And that felt satisfying.
––––––––
The lady—Gemma—who taught me how to make Eddie’s bentwood ring had me make four.
“Your first one is basically an experiment,” she told me. “The second one you won’t want to show to anyone. Your fourth one will be special.”
I didn’t tell her who it was for. I didn’t tell anyone, because I wanted him to be the first person I told.
Gemma was right. The fourth one was special, but it wasn’t perfect.
So I paid her extra and made a fifth. That was the one.
I knew before I’d finished. A bentwood ring the color of his hair.
She gave me a velvet box to put it in, and I kept it in a locked drawer at work no one else had the key to.
I was afraid if I brought it home, he might find it.
Then, I had to decide where to propose. The apartment was private, but it wasn’t special.
I didn’t want to do it in public either.
This was about us, nobody else. Then I got this idea to rent a cottage up north and propose to him in the woods.
I started checking how much it would cost. I had enough in savings to cover it, and if I took a vacation day on the Monday, we’d have three days together that wasn’t all traveling.
We could go after he’d finished shooting his movie.
I didn’t book anything yet, because I was nervous. If he did want to go, it meant I’d be proposing. And what if he said no?