Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He lets out a breath. “It’s getting harder. More interesting, too, but definitely more challenging. Studying is taking more of my time, that’s for sure.”
“It must be hard to work toward your degree while you’re holding down a job.” The movement of the muscles in his jaw distracts me momentarily, but I force my gaze back to his eyes as he swallows.
“I imagine it might be easier when you can focus full time on school, but I’m grateful to be going now.”
“You couldn’t go to college after high school?”
He shakes his head. “No money. And though I might have been able to get financial aid coming from a single-parent home, I probably wasn’t a good enough student to qualify. I didn’t even talk to the guidance counselor back then. I worked through high school and knew I was going to keep working.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t known he didn’t have a dad. He’s talked about his mom during our previous conversations, and it’s clear he has a lot of respect for her.
“I didn’t go to college,” I say. This is something I haven’t shared with him before, because I’ve been self-conscious about it, but I’m keeping with the spirit of the night and putting all my cards on the table. I realize now that he wouldn’t judge me for my lack of education, even though he’ll soon have a degree.
“No money in your family either?” he asks.
“Money wasn’t the issue. The problem was that my family doesn’t agree with a lot of what’s taught at universities. An open perspective on things doesn’t really align with their world view. They probably would have paid for me to go to a private college affiliated with the church, but by the time I finished high school, I knew I didn’t want to go to one.”
He can probably hear the emotion in my voice, but I’m grateful when he doesn’t question it. Instead, he says, “Well, there’s always time. There’s no age limit for admission. In fact, I like to think my years of life experience have made me a better student.”
“You make yourself sound positively ancient.” I happen to know he’s only thirty-one, five years older than me. Not ancient, but no doubt full of that life experience he just referenced.
While he’s still laughing at my remark, I lean across the table so that I can speak in a quieter voice. “Does it bother you?” I ask. “The fact that I have no experience?”
AVA
Of course, the waiter arrives just then to clear our salad plates, and I’m left reading Brax’s face as I wait for his answer. At least it’s a very attractive face to study, even as my nerves start to flare again.
Our ages aren’t that far apart, but our life experiences must be on completely different planes of existence. I can only imagine how many women someone who looks like him has been with.
His job at Beasts Ink is to keep the fans, mostly women, from bothering the tattoo artists while they’re working. I happen to know for a fact that a good portion of those female fans go there to see Brax, even more so now that the two shop owners are very publicly in a committed relationship with Lexy.
Brax answers my question with a question as soon as the waiter leaves. “Why would it bother me?”
I start to answer, but another person from the waitstaff arrives, sets up a tray stand near our table, and deposits a large tray that holds our entrees. I love dining out—it’s one of my favorite things—but I’m quickly learning that it doesn’t necessarily facilitate intimate conversations.
Our food is set in front of us, and the waiter quickly reappears to ask how everything looks and whether we need anything else. A few assurances later, we’re alone once again.
Instead of digging into his food, Brax is waiting for my answer.
“I only know how things are from my perspective, but I would guess that being with a … with someone inexperienced … would potentially complicate things.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize that my comment makes the assumption that we’re going to become intimate, because surely just dating a virgin doesn’t come with any particular problems. Having sex with a virgin is the thing that I worry would bother him. And I’ve just told him that I assume we might have sex at some point.
My cheeks have never burned brighter.
If Brax notices—and surely he must—he levels up his gentleman rank by ignoring my red face.
“It doesn’t bother me,” he says. “If you’d have asked me ahead of time how I might have felt, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you, but it turns out that it brings out my protective side.”
This isn’t what I expected to hear. “How so?”
“I want you to be safe … and comfortable. I don’t want you to feel any pressure or have any bad experiences.”