Chapter 7 #2
“Demisexual people rarely experience sexual attraction. Any sort of desire is tied more to the emotional connection they develop with another person. Only in those instances may they want to experience intimacy with another person. And not all intimacy needs to be sexual intercourse. However, someone who is demisexual needs emotional connection to enjoy any type of physical connection.”
Her words hit me hard, and I consider my past relationships with a sinking sensation.
“Fuck. I… don’t think I ever felt that way for anyone other than Damien, and then only a little with him.
And only at first. But once I realized his so-called love was all bullshit and he was just manipulating me, I never wanted sex with him again.
Shit, I didn’t even want him to touch me at all. ” I shudder.
“Do you feel sexually attracted to Hal?”
I startle at her question. “I’m… not sure. I’m attracted to his character, and his personality.” My cheeks warm. “I had a dream about kissing him, but it wasn’t a bow-chicka-wow-wow type of situation. Totally PG.”
It had been slow and sensual but not sexual—and I’d loved it. Granted, it was my brain’s fantasy scenario, which is often better than the real thing, but I suspect kissing Hal would be amazing.
Everything with him is.
Fuck. I felt more excitement and pleasure in that dream than I ever felt with Damien, even at the start when I thought I was in love with him.
When I look back on those days, considering what Dr. P’s been talking about, I’m forced to face the hard truth that I never actually enjoyed sex with Damien.
Or any other man I’d been with. Sure, I’d had some orgasms along the way, although not always.
While the release was nice, the whole process of getting there with someone else had been more of an unpleasant but necessary chore.
I rub a hand over my face. Clearly, I need to read up on the whole demisexual and asexual spectrum because I’m now pretty fucking sure I fall somewhere on that continuum. It’s kind of one of the Keanu Reeves whoa moments. An unexpected truth bomb just exploded my brain a little.
On the one hand, there’s a huge wave of relief in knowing that I’m not too fucked up to have a relationship.
I’m not wired like most people when it comes to sex, and that’s just who I am.
But on the other hand, I’m worried about how Hal will take all of this.
I’m gonna have to tell him, but in my experience, most men want sex.
Then again, Hal isn’t most men. I shouldn’t think of him like guys I’ve been with before.
Dr. P interrupts my reverie. “Don’t put pressure on yourself.
However, if you decide to pursue something with Hal and he’s willing, then you need to talk about boundaries.
He may have some of his own. If the parameters don’t align in a compatible fashion, then maybe friendship is all you’ll share, but that can be a beautiful thing too.
In the meantime, I’ll email you some resources to learn more about demisexuality as well as asexuality, and you can see if any of that resonates with you.
And of course, we can talk more about it at our next appointment if you’d like. ”
“Sounds good. Thanks, Doc.”
As we wrap up our session, I keep going over her words.
I never thought about how I might be letting Damien’s past hold on me ruin my future romantic prospects, but I can see how that’s part of what’s been holding me back.
I plan to follow her advice and do some serious thinking, but I’m sure as shit not letting Damien Russo fuck with my head anymore.
A short time later, I’ve almost made it to the salon when I notice a crowd standing outside the Clothing Emporium, Mystic Hollow’s equivalent of a vintage, used, and consignment clothing store.
I cross the street to find out what’s happening and do a double take when the crowd parts and I see Hal kneeling down to talk to an elderly brownie.
The wizened little woman is about the height of a toddler, and a breathless wonder anchors in my chest as I watch Hal talking to her with a warm smile.
It’s obvious he knelt down to be closer to her eye level but in a respectful way.
Fuckin’ A.
My heart swells and just like that, the worst of my fears evaporate, and I’m left with a total sense of certainty that I’m going to pursue something with this man. Or rather, sasquatch.
If he’s interested, of course.
I’m still nervous about the whole sex issue, but I’ll talk it out with Hal, like Dr. P said. That sounds a lot less scary than the prospect of someone else nabbing Hal right out from under me.
Hal stands up suddenly and blinks at me in surprise, a sunny smile blooming on his face. “What are you doing here?”
My heart trips all over itself at the sight.
I clear my throat and try not to act like a besotted teenager in front of his crush. “I was on my way to the salon when I saw the commotion over here, so I decided to check it out and make sure everything’s okay.”
Good, that sounded normal.
Hal steps closer and my pulse quickens.
“All right, folks. Please clear out. I’ve got the situation under control,” Baxter says, stepping out the front door of the Clothing Emporium.
Most of the crowd disappears.
“What’s happening?” I whisper to Hal.
He leans down, his soft hair brushing against me, and I try not to shiver. “The nudist gnomes are at it again.”
Baxter turns to head back inside, and we follow behind him.
This is my first time in the store, and it’s a lot to take in.
There are clothing racks everywhere in the maze-like room, as well as a wall of shoes, shelves loaded with purses, and too many knickknacks for me to even process all at once.
While almost all the clothing and other items appear to be secondhand, some look to be vintage pieces made for all body sizes and shapes.
I suppose a town like Mystic Hollow would need that, given how many different species live here.
A naked gnome zooms past me and dives into a rack of clothing.
Another jumps on top of a display shelf. “It is time to arm ourselves for the battle ahead!”
A unified cry goes up. “Death to all lawnmowers!”
“What is even happening right now?” I whisper.
“No idea,” Hal murmurs, looking baffled.
The only clothed gnome in the room joins us, an older female with her hair in plaits and her beard braided with colorful ribbons.
She’s accompanied by a human man wearing a sequined magenta caftan that matches his hair.
In one arm perches a tiny Chihuahua with a matching pink bow and a bejeweled dog collar.
The man’s eyes light up the instant they fix on me. “You must be Skylar!” he declares with a level of enthusiasm that I’ve rarely had directed at me.
I shove my hands in my jean pockets and stand awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”
He flaps his free hand and squeals. “Honey, thank heavens you arrived when you did. Just look at the state of my poor hair.” He points a finger at his head.
“I’m in desperate need of professional intervention.
It’s been months since I had a proper color and cut.
I’ve been making do on my own, but my true talents lie elsewhere.
” He holds his hands together in a prayer pose, and his dog gives a little squeak at being slightly smooshed.
“Please tell me I can book an appointment with you ASAP!”
I gape, kinda overwhelmed.
Hal places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, and I savor the comforting warmth. “I’m sure he can fit you in, Max. Once his salon is actually open, that is.”
The flamboyant man gasps. “Silly me. I was so excited about your salon that I forgot to introduce myself.” He reaches his hand out again. “I’m Max MacLeod, supermanny extraordinaire and fiancé to Dr. Targan Wildethorne, Mystic Hollow’s sexiest orc professor.”
I blink a few times and shake his hand. “Good to meet you. And yeah, I’d be happy to add you to my calendar once I have it up and running. But your best bet may be to do a walk-in during my opening week.”
We discuss details for a bit before the older lady gnome steps forward and crosses her arms. “Baxter, what the hell has gotten into these fools?”
Baxter rubs at his temples like he’s trying to rub away a headache. “Sorry about this, Sylvia. My best guess is that they’re intoxicated. On what, I have no idea.”
She frowns. “Gnomes don’t tend to become intoxicated. Not easily, at least. We have a strong immunity to all forms of alcohol.”
Max titters. “Sweetie, I don’t think they’ve been into the booze.
They’re tripping balls on something far more psychedelic.
Reminds me of a roommate of mine in college.
He got high on something and ran around our dorm totally naked yelling, ‘I’m king of the world!
’” Max shakes his head in recollection. “He was weirdly obsessed with Titanic at the time.”
“Great,” Baxter mutters. “I’ve got naked hippie gnomes running around town while high.”
Sylvia’s brow furrows. “I doubt it was intentional. If they did willingly consume something that ended up being dangerous, they didn’t know this would be the outcome. Gnomes only consume natural foods grown from the earth.”
Hal hums thoughtfully. “Hmm. Maybe they foraged something out in the woods, something with unknown mind-altering properties. There are a variety of plants and fungi that grow in deciduous areas and can induce hallucinations and such.”
“By the Light,” Baxter growls. “Just what we don’t need right now.”
All around us the gnomes continue rooting through the many items in the store with wild abandon, tossing discarded garments in their wake, and muttering something about foes and supplies. At least the yelling has gone down.