Chapter 6 #2
“We could follow up with something about physical attraction,” I continued, enjoying the way she was trying so hard to appear nonchalant. “Ask them to describe what draws them to someone. Is it the way they move? The way they laugh? The way they look at you as though they want to read your mind?”
Her pen slipped, clattering onto the table. She quickly grabbed it, her face now definitely pink.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I was just… thinking about the ethics of asking such personal questions.”
“Ethics?” I raised an eyebrow. “These are adults volunteering to talk about their identity and relationships. Personal is the point, and I think they can handle talking about attraction.”
“Oh. Of course.” She cleared her throat.
Cute.
“What other… What other physical questions were you thinking?” she asked.
I leaned forward a little. “Well, we could ask about intimacy. How their identity affects their intimate relationships. Do they prefer to take the lead or be led? Do they like gentle touches or something with more intensity? How do they communicate what they want in bed?”
Kelechi’s eyes widened, and she actually squeaked a little. “We can’t ask people that!”
“Why not? It’s relevant to our research. Sexual expression is tied to gender expression.”
“But it’s so… personal.”
“The best research is personal, K. That’s how you get real answers instead of textbook responses.” I tilted my head, studying her flustered state. “Have you never talked about sex before?”
“Of course I have,” she said too fast, though her voice pitched higher. “I just… not academically.”
“Mm-hmm.” I didn’t buy that for a second. “So you’d be fine asking someone about their sexual preferences? Whether they like being the one doing the kissing or the one being kissed? What makes them feel desired?”
She was practically squirming in her seat now, her face a deep red that was frankly adorable.
“I—” she started, then stopped. “I think we should focus on more general questions,” she said weakly.
“Fine, but you’re going to have to get comfortable with this stuff if you want to do real research on gender and sexuality.” I picked up my pen, pretending to make notes while watching her try to compose herself. “Though I have to ask… why does talking about attraction make you so nervous?”
“It doesn’t,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Right. So if I asked you what kind of person makes your heart race, you’d have no problem answering?”
She went quiet, and I could practically see her mind racing, trying to figure out how to escape this conversation.
“I…” she started, then stopped, looking down at her hands.
“It’s okay,” I said, my voice gentler but still teasing. “Not everyone’s comfortable talking about what turns them on. Some people need to work up to that kind of honesty.”
She looked up at me then, something almost defiant flashing in her eyes. “I can be honest.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
The challenge hovered between us, and I could see she was trying so hard to seem unbothered, which told me everything she was trying to hide.
“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” she said finally, but her voice lacked conviction.
I smiled, leaning back in my chair. “Fair enough. But you’re going to have to figure out how to ask these questions eventually. We can’t interview people about things like that if one of us turns red every time someone mentions attraction.”
A few seconds later, she started packing up. “Maybe we should call it a night,” she said. “We can work on the question list over email.”
“Running away again?” I asked, then immediately regretted the edge in my voice when she flinched.
“I’m not running away, I’m just… tired.”
“Okay, if you say so. I don’t have your email, though,” I said to her.
“Oh, that’s true. I’ll text it to you. Give me yours.”
“Sure,” I said as I handed her my phone. She punched in her number and passed it over to me. I glanced at my phone and noticed she’d already saved it with “Kelechi course mate”. I had to stop myself from laughing, as if there was any other Kelechi in my life.
As she shouldered her bag and turned to leave, I found myself wanting to say something to smooth things over, to get us back to the easier rhythm we’d had earlier.
But I didn’t.
Something stopped me. Pride, maybe. Or the satisfaction of knowing I’d gotten under her skin. Maybe it was simply the fact that pushing her buttons seemed to be the only way to get anything real out of her.
“Need a ride?” I asked.
“No. I’m stopping somewhere first.”
Translation: not with me.
“Okay.”
“See you in class,” she said, avoiding my eyes.
“Yeah. See you.”
I watched her walk away, disappearing between the stacks, and wondered why I always pushed just a little too far whenever she started opening up.
Then I remembered the way her breath had caught. How she couldn’t meet my eyes when I asked those personal questions?
I don’t quite regret it.
Some people needed a nudge. And Kelechi, for all her composure and academic seriousness, was definitely one of them.
* Germany