31
Corban
“We need love. We need loving relationships. It doesn’t have to be marriage. But sex is the most healing thing you can do to your body.” ~ John Gray
After leaving Molly’s, I went home, feeling kind of shitty and restless. I thought about going climbing, or maybe to the gym to see if the dads were playing basketball. Neither of those sounded all that great. They weren’t what I really wanted to do tonight.
There was only one thing—one person—I really wanted.
“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself and texted Hazel. If we were friends with benefits, there was nothing wrong with texting her for a booty call.
Me: Hey. Busy tonight?
Hazel: No, why do you ask?
Me: Do you want to come over?
Hazel: I just took a batch of sugar cookies out of the oven. Would you like me to bring them?
Me: Are you kidding? Obviously yes.
Hazel: Send me your address and I’ll be there shortly.
I texted her my address and tossed my phone on the counter. Her cookies were great, but that wasn’t why I wanted her to come over. Of course, I wasn’t going to turn them down either.
She arrived about fifteen minutes later. I didn’t even pretend I had another reason for inviting her. As soon as she came inside, I took the container of cookies out of her hand, set them on the table, and kissed her. Kissed her hard and deep so she knew how much I wanted her.
How much I needed her.
The way she tore my shirt off made it easy to pretend she needed me too.
We stumbled into the bedroom and made short work of ripping off our clothes. Fell onto the bed. She was soft and delicious, and it felt so fucking good to be inside her again.
It was stupid how much I needed this. How badly I craved her. But tonight, I didn’t care.
Afterward, we lay together beneath the sheet. She rested her head against my shoulder while I absently played with her hair. My room was in total disarray. We’d knocked over the lamp, the comforter was on the floor, and our clothes were everywhere. I couldn’t seem to contain the beast when I was with her.
“How’s the training for your half-marathon coming?” I asked. “The race is soon, isn’t it?”
“It is. We’ve been progressively adding mileage.” Her voice sounded relaxed and sleepy.
“Do you feel ready?”
She hesitated before answering. “To be completely honest, I’m not sure. This particular training program doesn’t include completing the full distance prior to the race. When I read the research behind it, the training program seemed quite sound.”
“But?”
“But now I’m worried about my ability to finish.”
I tightened my arm around her. “I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. You’re going to do great. Just imagine how amazing you’ll feel when you cross that finish line and see everybody cheering for you.”
She laughed softly. “The finish line will be crowded with strangers, but I suppose you’re right. That will be an exciting moment.”
“You don’t think you’ll have anyone cheering for you at the finish?”
“No. My girlfriends will be running. And I don’t know who else would come.”
“What about your parents?”
“I’m sure they’ll be happy to hear about it the next time we talk. But they wouldn’t come all the way here for something like this. Plus, they’re not comfortable in crowds.”
It made me kind of sad to think about Hazel crossing the finish line with no one to cheer for her. Maybe I’d have to fix that.
“Speaking of families, how’s your sister?” she asked.
“Tired, but they’re all doing really well.”
“That’s good to hear. I imagine the transition into motherhood would be challenging.”
“Yeah, although Molly’s the type of person who’s good at everything she does. She already looked like an expert mom.”
“Sounds a bit like you.”
I glanced at her. “No, I’m pretty much the opposite of my sister.”
“But you’re very competent at a number of things.”
“Mostly just math.”
She shifted, the bare skin of her leg sliding against mine. “You’re skilled at more than just math.”
That made me crack a smile. “Okay, I’m good at sex too.”
“That’s an understatement. You’re exceptionally talented.”
“You’re right, I’m amazing.” I squeezed her and she laughed softly. “But that’s not exactly the sort of thing that makes your parents proud.”
“I suppose not, but you have no shortage of qualities to elicit parental approval.”
“My parents are hard to impress.”
“How so?”
I paused for a long moment, still sliding my fingers through her hair. “To them, being good at one thing never made up for all the other stuff I was bad at. They wanted us to be well-rounded, so they pushed me to do things to balance me out. Like even though I was bony and awkward, they still signed me up for soccer and Little League. And in high school, they made me go to all the pep rallies and school dances, insisting that I needed those experiences. I’d have been happier to stay home reading comics, doing extra math assignments, and watching nature documentaries. But they didn’t want their son to be weird.”
“They think you’re weird?”
“I am weird.”
“I disagree.”
“Well, they wanted me to be more like Molly.”
“It sounds as if they unfairly compared you to your sister.”
“They probably did, but I get where they were coming from. Research from longitudinal happiness studies supports it.”
She lifted her head. “What research?”
“Happiness studies show that across cultures and socioeconomic groups, the one thing that defines people’s lifetime happiness is the quality of their relationships. Not wealth, education, career, or social status. Nothing predicts happiness as conclusively as close, meaningful relationships.”
“But you have meaningful relationships. You’re very close to your sister.”
“I know. But I think my parents see success as having it all. A good career, a house with a white picket fence, a couple of kids. That was what they both wanted out of life, so they want the same thing for us.”
“I appreciate their desire to see their children lead happy, productive lives…” She trailed off, sounding uncertain.
“It’s simple. I got good grades, but Molly got good grades and had a million friends. I have multiple college degrees, but she has a degree and she’s married and starting a family. Being good at math doesn’t cut it. They don’t understand why I can’t be smart and fit in.”
“Fitting in is overrated.”
“Yeah, true. It took me a long time to accept that being a data nerd is just who I am. But humans are social animals, so ultimately being a math genius isn’t what’s going to make me happy. My parents can see that, and they don’t think things will ever change for me. My mom gave up on that a long time ago.”