Hard to Love

Chapter 25 - Kian's Apartment Part 2

I hold back my hair and close my eyes, letting the stream of warm water rain over my face. I don't move, giving in to the heat as mini droplets of water pelt my skin. They bleed from forehead down to my chin, before splashing onto the grey marble panelling and the dark tiles at my feet. I wiggle my toes, feeling the smooth surface of the stone floor as the water drains away. The hot steam clouds the glass, temporarily shielding me from the outside world.

I rub my eyes with the back of my finger. Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. You got this. After what feels like forever, I reach forward and turn off the shower. I stand there for a second, motionless, letting the last beads of water trickle from my skin. The sound of the remaining drops of water echo loudly in the small chamber.

I slide open the door and take a small step, grabbing a fluffy towel hanging from the railing attached to the side of the wall. I wrap it around my torso like a mummy, tucking a corner into its fold. Holding my towel with one hand, I shuffle over to the sink. The mirror is foggy from the steam and I wipe it in broad strokes with the back of my other hand.

A pair of wide eyes are staring back at me. My cheeks are tinged slightly pink. A few strands of hair that normally frame my face are damp from the shower, and I brush them back haphazardly. I take slow breaths, blinking at my reflection. I look the same, but I can hardly recognize myself.

My clothes are folded nicely and sitting on a pile on the side table. I unfasten my towel and dry the rest of my body off, pulling on the clothes that I had taken off an hour ago. My bra. My underwear. My jean shorts. My cropped peasant blouse. I stretch the sleeves over my shoulders, tucking my bra straps away undernearth.

I turn back towards my reflection. Hmm. I take out my elastic and shake out my ponytail, letting my hair fall to my shoulders. Better. I run my fingers through my thick waves.

Deep breaths. I crack open the bathroom door and close it behind me, padding back into the bedroom. The lights are on now and the curtains are drawn.

Kian's sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looks up when I appear.

"Hey."

"Hey." I walk in, making my way to the foot of his bed and sit down. His eyes are wide with concern.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Thanks for the towel, by the way. I left it in the bathroom."

"Okay cool."

There's a drawn out pause before he speaks again. He's staring at me, waiting. I can't read his expression. "You can't force it to happen you know."

I bite my lip, trying to remember what had happened in the past hour. I could barely process anything. It had all happened so fast.

I remember I had tried really hard to relax. I tried not to think about the close contact. The mouth to mouth. The skin on skin. My hands gripping the back of his neck and hair. His hands grazing my back and the insides of my thigh. Our slow and heavy breaths cutting through the tension.

I had followed his lead, letting him guide our motions as the night went on. He did everything right, but at the very last minute, something had kicked into my brain. It wasn't right. I couldn't go forward with it. I just couldn't.

It was that moment that he sensed something was wrong. Thankfully, he was respectful and complied, stopping as soon as I said the word.

"Sex is natural. You can't force it to happen." His voice takes me back into the present.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

"No, don't be sorry." He waves it off, gesturing with his hand. "It's not your fault. I'm just not the right person."

I had wanted so badly for him to be the right person. I had wanted so badly for this to work, to finally shed my virginity and not have to think about it ever again. I had literally asked him to hook up on Tinder, went all the way over to his apartment, and made out with him for a full twenty minutes, only to back out at the last second.

"Can I give you some advice?" he asks a moment later. He's looking at me so intensely, I can't look away.

"Uh, sure."

"I don't think I can help you."

I stop.

"Whatever you're doing... whatever you tried doing tonight, this will never work," he says. "You don't trust me. Your body doesn't trust me." He shrugs.

Say what now?

"You can't relax when you're with me," he continues. "Which fine. You just met me. I'm a stranger to you. But if you can't relax, you're never going to be able to do it."

"Uh..."

"I'm not saying you can't do it. Maybe you can, I don't know. This is just my opinion. But it might be easier to get a boyfriend, or at least try it with someone that you know, so that you're more comfortable."

Comfortable. I almost recoil at the word. I had spent the past twenty years of my life being comfortable. Too comfortable. I was so comfortable, I spent all my free time getting my GPA high enough for the Dean's List, instead of getting invitations to parties. So comfortable, I spent all of last year practicing investment banking interview prep to score my JP Morgan internship, instead of scoring a boyfriend. So comfortable, I was still a virgin twenty years later.

"This is just my two cents," he quips. "But this seems important to you, so I thought I would try to help."

"No, I appreciate it. You're probably right." I sigh, loudly.

"Sex just comes naturally. You'll see. You can't force it." He shrugs again. He picks up his phone again and looks down, thumbing through something on his screen.

Got it. Hint taken. Conversation over.

I stand up, my body rigid, making my way over to his side table to grab my phone. I unhook my jean jacket from the coat rack and put it on in rush. I even take the time to button up the front, my fingers slipping as I punch the metal fasteners over the holes. With the lights on and the adrenaline gone, I feel so exposed with my tiny tpo and bottoms. I wish I had brought something to cover my butt, but this will have to do.

"You can let yourself out," he says, without looking up from his phone. "Just make sure you lock the door behind you."

I nod and pad back into the living room, closing his bedroom door behind me. I find my sandals and shove them on, lacing the straps over my bare feet. I push open the door and let it click softly behind me.

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