Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
“Admit what?”
“That you like being around me all the time. That you find me irresistible too.” I ran my palms over my jeans because my hands were suddenly sweaty.
“As if you don’t already know you’re a hot guy.” He scoffed. “And I told you, I do like hanging out with you, but I don’t want to ruin stuff between us.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Unless we’re clear that we’re just hooking up.”
“Exactly.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to meet my eyes. “And I also don’t want to be your experiment. Been there, done that. That guy I thought I was in love with, remember? When all was said and done, it left me feeling pretty hollow.”
I felt something unlatch in the very center of me because he was describing my sentiments on any number of occasions. But in my case, it was because I was just going through the motions, trying to fill myself up and feel accomplished or satisfied—at least in my parents’ eyes.
The air suddenly felt so heavy I was choking on it.
“Empty, huh?” I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, trying to find something to lighten the mood. “I’d definitely fill you up.”
He turned his head, his smile trying to break free. “Do you ever not say inappropriate things?”
“I’m a work in progress. But I’ll admit I like that look you get in your eyes when I say something that trips you up.”
“What look?”
“It’s hard to describe. Your expression turns…soft. Fucking adorable.”
And disarming. Which only made me want to pull him into my arms and press my mouth to those soft lips…
He began packing his stuff. “Now I know you’re full of crap.”
“Think whatever you want, but it’s true.” I shrugged and closed my laptop. “I’m not sure why you don’t believe me.”
He clicked a message on his phone, smiled, then glanced at me. “Have you used the app yet?”
“No, it doesn’t feel the same.”
“The same as what?”
“Like, natural, the way it does with you.”
“How do you even know that yet?” He stood and grabbed his bag. “Someone might surprise you.”
“I guess so,” I muttered as he waved goodbye and walked away.
The student center had cleared out, but I had another free period, so I took my things and headed to a more comfortable spot where no one could look over my shoulder.
I opened the app and then promptly closed it. I just wasn’t ready, no matter what Emil said. I knew he was only trying to help—or maybe just trying to get rid of me.
Instead, I opened the search window and typed: Had my first time with a guy and can’t stop thinking about him. What does that mean?
I fell down the rabbit hole of gay forums and websites with all sorts of definitions and identities, and I’ll admit there was one that nearly knocked me off my chair when I read it. Aromantic: someone who doesn’t experience romantic attraction.
Could that be me? But how did that explain what I was feeling toward Emil?
I clicked on another article, and just like that, I had my answer. Demiromantic: Only developing romantic feelings for someone when there is a deeper emotional connection. Demiromantics tend to fall for people they have developed friendships with.
Why did it feel like that label fit me so completely?
Maybe Emil was right. Maybe there was only one way to find out if I connected with others romantically and not just sexually.
I opened the app again, scrolled through, and swiped, telling myself I’d only look.
13
EMIL
I was in the locker room, changing out of my tights for band practice.
“You going to wear that all the way home?” I asked Lark, who was still in his long, sheer ballet skirt from class.
He smiled dreamily, loving the female role he was taking on for the fall recital. “Oh God, no. I wouldn’t want to get it dirty. Just felt like wearing it a little longer.”
“It looks good on you.”
“That’s what Henry says.”
“Does he now?”
A blush inched across his cheeks.
“Anyway…” He stood and opened his locker. “You can tell me it’s none of my business…”
“Uh-oh.” I wondered where this was headed.
“The jock you hooked up with…” He threw me a quick look. “It was Bones, wasn’t it?”
My stomach seized. Fucking hell. I glanced over his shoulder to make sure we were alone. “How did you guess?”
“It’s not hard if you watch him when you’re around.” Lark carefully stepped out of the skirt. “He can barely tear his eyes away from you.”
I swallowed, not wanting to believe it. After our conversation in the student center yesterday, he’d seemed preoccupied, maybe even distant, so I figured the whole thing had only been our usual bantery stuff. Even though it had felt like something more. Something I escaped from facing as soon as I was able. It was too much, too close to the surface, and I didn’t have time to unpack all that. Not now, maybe not ever.