“We have to talk about something,” he blurts out.
Exasperated. That’s what it is. Esben sounds exasperated.
Here it is. I knew whatever was going on between us wasn’t going to last. “All right.” I shut my book and stare at the cover rather than him.
“Are you seeing anyone else?” he asks.
It’s a good thing I’m not prone to snorting, because this is the most ridiculous question ever. Now I look at him, because I have to know if he’s swapped bodies with someone wearing a straitjacket. “Am I what?”
“We haven’t . . . talked about that. Or about us. Or if there is an us. And . . .”
He’s right. We haven’t. And I haven’t known how to bring this up. Or maybe I’ve been scared to.
“Esben, good Lord, if either of us is likely to be seeing anyone else, it’s you. You’re the one with half the planet dying to get a piece of you.”
He laughs. “I think that’s a slight exaggeration.”
I move in front of him so that his legs rest between mine. “Maybe slight. But you know what I mean. You could be with a thousand people other than me. And probably girls who would be more . . . would be more . . .” I really don’t want to have to say this aloud.
“More what?” he prompts.
Over the past weeks, I’ve spent hours and hours with Esben. We study, we talk, we have meals together. We do almost everything together. We kiss, we embrace—sometimes for longer than others—and then we say good night. And go to our own dorms.
If he is not already about to dump me, I’m very afraid that I’m about to blow this all apart. “When you walk me home, at night, you have never asked to stay over.”
Esben smiles with a little embarrassment. “That’s true.”
“You’ve never . . . tried anything.” The awkwardness of this unexpected conversation is nearly crippling.
“That’s also true.” Esben takes my hand. “Do you know why?”
“Because you’re getting routine, nightly sex from Twitter followers who have stalked you to this very room, so you’re not interested in me?”
He laughs. “No. Allison, I am crazy attracted to you, and I haven’t so much as looked at another girl since I met you.”
“So no Twitter lays?”
“Not a one.” He takes my other hand in his. “It’s not a secret that you’ve had a rough time, and I know how hard it’s been for you to let me in at all. I don’t want to push you into anything physical. I figure if you’re ready for something more, you’ll tell me.”
I have to think about how to answer this. “Every time we kiss good-bye and you leave my room, I want to ask you to stay. But I also don’t. I’m not sure if that makes sense.”
“I think so. But keep talking.”
“Look, I assume that you’ve got a lot more experience than I do, and you’ve probably had sex all over the place, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m pretty sure I haven’t exactly blown you away with my risqué behavior, and I’m not getting why you’re putting up with this. Why you haven’t tried to . . . to take off my clothes or cop a feel or whatever.” I free my hands from his and toss them up in the air. “I’m not exactly an expert on messing around, but I think it’s kind of an all-or-nothing deal, yeah? And right now you’re pretty much getting nothing. So, I’m kind of wondering if you’re dating other people and we’re just friends who kiss a little, but if that’s the case, then we have to stop kissing, because I don’t think of you as just my good friend Esben.”
“You’re really going to need to take a few breaths here.” He looks very cute as he pushes my bangs back. “I thought I was the insecure one with the questions. But let’s straighten out some things. First of all, I don’t think of you as my ‘good friend’ Allison.”
“Okay.” That alone makes me feel a bit better.
“Second, I have not, as you wildly put it, had sex all over the place.”
“So, you’ve had lots of sex in a limited number of defined and well-thought-out locations, then.” It’s jarring how much the idea of Esben with anyone else makes my chest hurt. “There’s no way you’re a virgin. You’re too hot.”
As he moves to sit on the bed next to me, he shakes his head. “What am I going to do with you?”
As a temporary answer to his own question, he turns my face to his and kisses me. It’s a long kiss, but not a greedy one. It is also—I will allow—a loving one.
“In fact,” he says. “I am a virgin.”
“You are not.”
“I am,” he says very comfortably.
“How could you, famous Esben Baylor, not have had sex? You’ve got girls teeming all over you.”
He shrugs. “I’m not saying I haven’t done other stuff. I’ve dated and fooled around and all that. You know, everything but actual sex.”
I’m very confused. “Why’s that?”
“It’s just never felt right. Sex is important, and I haven’t been with someone who I’ve wanted to be that kind of close with. And, to be honest, I can’t always tell if someone likes me for me or for what I do online. I’ve been burned a few times that way, so I’m cautious.”
“I can understand that. But you know that’s not me, so you just . . . don’t want to sleep with me?”
It’s hard for him to kiss me while he’s smiling, but he manages to make it work. Then he says, “Quite the opposite, you nut. Let me be very clear. I want to sleep with you. Like, really, really want to sleep with you. And, by the way, you said before that it’s an all-or-nothing deal? The physical stuff? There’s a whole bunch to do between nothing and everything, a wide spectrum, in fact. Just as a side note.” Now he’s really smiling. “Allison, everything about you turns me on, and if the day comes when you’re ready for us to have sex, I’m not going to complain. Like, seriously not complain. At all. But I don’t think you’re at that point. Am I wrong?”
“No,” I say quietly. “But that doesn’t mean that . . . I don’t think about it. Or that I don’t want to.”
“But just not now, right? And that’s fine. I get it. We only met a few months ago; you’ve got some understandable trust issues. There’s no rush.”
I take hold of his hands again. “You’re a good guy, Esben. A really, really good guy. Remarkable, actually. I just need some time.”
“I’m going to give you that, okay? Don’t worry. And, one day, you’ll stop looking for this—for us—to fall apart.”
“But, still . . . Esben, you’re a college junior whose girlfriend won’t sleep with him. What if you explode?”
All of a sudden, Esben gets the most pleased look on his face.
“What?” I ask. “I just meant that—”
His hand goes to the back of my neck, just below my hairline. “You called yourself my girlfriend.”
Ohmigod. I did. “That just slipped out. I didn’t mean to assume, er, that we were . . . that you are my . . .” I try to breathe for his sake. “We haven’t used that word, or even talked about it. I’ve just been rolling along, being all grateful that I haven’t had some crazy meltdown and that you haven’t figured out that you could probably have more fun with someone whose past isn’t a battlefield of trauma. So, that word just slipped out. That’s all.”