15. #4
"I don't know everything," he continues. "I could be completely wrong. But from what I've seen... a lot of your dynamic isn't really in your control."
The observation is gentle.
Not accusatory.
Just honest.
"And?" I ask quietly.
"And I'm not going to try and sleep with you if I'm not sure that's something you're actually choosing," he says.
The answer surprises me.
"I am choosing it," I insist.
There's a hint of amusement in his voice now.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"You haven't said that to me before."
My cheeks heat.
"Well... I'm saying it now."
A soft chuckle slips through the phone.
"Grant," I groan, mortified.
"I'm sorry, baby," he says quickly, though I can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm not laughing at you."
"Then what are you laughing at?"
"You're embarrassed," he says.
"I'm not—"
"You absolutely are."
I press my hand over my face.
"This is humiliating."
"No," he says gently. "It's you trying to take control of something that's usually decided for you."
The words settle heavily in the quiet between us.
"I just want you to feel like you have full control," he continues. "That's why I didn't push it."
I swallow.
"I didn't want to overstep," he adds. "Which is why I told you earlier today—tell me what you want."
The memory flashes back immediately.
I hear movement on his end again, like he's setting something down.
"So," he says calmly.
The single word makes my stomach flip.
"So what?" I ask cautiously.
"So tell me."
I blink.
"Tell you what?"
There's a small pause.
Then his voice drops slightly.
"Tell me what you want me to do to you."
Heat floods my entire face instantly.
"Grant—"
"Don't get all shy on me now," he says softly.
My fingers tighten around the phone.
I groan under my breath.
"You're enjoying this."
"A little," he admits.
"Grant."
His tone shifts again, softer this time.
Encouraging.
"Tell me what you want."
The words hang there between us.
My mouth opens.
Then closes again.
I press my fingers against my forehead, mortified.
"This was a bad idea," I mutter.
A quiet laugh comes through the phone.
"Naomi."
There's a small pause on the line. "I can't."
"Can't or won't?" Grant asks.
"Both," I mutter.
My stomach tightens immediately after the word leaves my mouth.
Because now I'm waiting.
Waiting for the irritation.
For the sigh.
For the subtle shift in tone that means I've done something wrong.
Grant goes quiet for a moment, and the silence makes my chest feel tight.
Then his voice comes back — softer than before.
"That's alright."
I blink, lowering my hand slightly.
"What?"
"You don't have to say it tonight."
I let my hand fall completely into my lap, still confused.
"But you told me to tell you what I want."
"I did," he agrees easily.
"And I can't," I say, the words coming out smaller than I mean for them to.
The admission feels like failure sitting between us.
"You tried," he says.
That makes me pause.
Because he doesn't sound frustrated.
If anything, he sounds calm.
"You're not used to saying those things out loud," he continues after a moment. "That's not something you just wake up one day knowing how to do."
I lean back against the headboard, exhaling slowly.
"I feel stupid."
"You're not stupid."
"You say that because you're nice."
"No," he replies quietly. "I say it because it's true."
The certainty in his voice settles something in my chest.
"You're learning how to ask for things that no one's ever really asked you about before," he adds. "That takes time."
I stare down at my phone, my fingers tracing the edge of the case.
"So you're not... annoyed?" I ask cautiously.
Grant lets out a soft breath that almost sounds like a laugh.
"Naomi," he says.
"Can you just tell me so I'm not overthinking all night."
"I'm not annoyed."
The tension in my shoulders loosens just slightly.
"We'll figure out what you like," he says. "What you want."
The words make heat creep up the back of my neck again, but this time it isn't from embarrassment.
It's from the quiet promise sitting underneath them.
"Next time," he says after a moment, "you can tell me."
"Next time?"
"Next time."
My stomach flips slightly at the promise in those two words.
"Don't freeze up on me," Grant speaks. "I'm not annoyed at you I promise."
"I just..." I trail off.
"What?"
"I don't want you to think I'm... difficult," I admit.
The words feel childish the second they leave my mouth.
There's a soft exhale on the other end of the line.
"Naomi."
The way he says my name makes me sit a little straighter.
"You called me tonight," he says. "You asked the question."
I stare down at my knee, tracing the edge of the towel with my thumb.
"That doesn't sound like someone who's difficult," he continues.
The knot in my chest loosens a little more.
For a moment neither of us says anything.
"You'll get there," he says after a while.
His voice is calm, certain in a way that makes my stomach flutter again.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
I lean my head back against the wall behind the bed, letting the warmth of his voice settle somewhere deep in my chest.