“I’ve heard some rumors about him around campus,” Emily tells me over the phone the following morning. I’m literally walking to our date, so these rumors couldn’t have come at a worse time.
“Of the bad kind?” I ask, although I’m not sure I really want to find out.
“Mm-hmm. Not necessarily. I heard Luke is… You know, experienced.”
“So what? He sleeps around?”
“He’s had a handful of hookups here and there.” There’s some shuffling in the background and I think I hear a distant masculine voice.
“Where are you?” I frown. It’s not typical of her to not tell me where she’s at, especially when she’s with a guy. Her fear of being sold to traffickers is too real, and I don’t blame her.
“With a friend, don’t worry about it,” she answers a bit too quickly.
“Spending the night at a friend’s, huh?” I tease.
I can practically feel her rolling her eyes from the other side of the line. “Let’s focus on the topic at hand, yeah? Don’t distract me.”
I chuckle. “Sure, whatever. Okay, so he’s slept with a handful of people. I can handle that.”
“Are you sure?” She sounds genuinely concerned, and I know what she’s thinking.
“I promise it’s fine. At our age, most men I’d want to hook up with are bound to have way more experience than I do.”
“True, but I still thought I should give you a heads-up.”
“Thanks. I promise I’m fine, though. Nothing to worry about.”
Turns out, however, that I had a few things to worry about.
I meet Luke at Warlington University’s most popular—and most crowded—coffee shop. It may not be an ideal place for a first date, given how I can barely hear him through the commotion of students and the obnoxious sound of the coffee machine, but here’s where I feel safest.
Here, if anything happens, there would be many witnesses and people to help. It eases some of my nerves.
As the date goes on, I start growing more comfortable and realize that Luke is in fact a very decent guy. His family is originally from California, where he spends every summer facing the waves, but he also appreciates the colder weather of the East Coast. He tells me about this new job he started only a couple of weeks ago, how annoying his two brothers are, and a party he attended last weekend. The whole conversation feels friendly and safe enough.
At some point, I tug at the dress my friends swore looked so flattering when I sent a picture to the group chat this morning. Sexy, even, and with the right amount of autumnal vibes. Now, however, I wonder if Luke would think it’s too short. Sure, I’m wearing a thick pair of black tights underneath because it’s cold as hell outside, but the fabric still clings too much to my curves and it barely covers my ass.
I wonder why I thought this was a good idea. I’ll blame it on choosing an outfit at nine in the morning when my brain is still very much asleep.
With each tug at my dress the front goes lower, so I stop. The V neckline is too pronounced to keep doing this unless I want my boobs to come out and say hello. And trust me, that’s the very last thing on my long list of wishes right now. I don’t want Luke to get the wrong idea or give him the impression that I’m interested in him like that. He might be cute enough and not creepy so far, but I don’t exactly want to shove my tongue down his throat just yet.
Once our food and drinks are gone, we exit the coffee shop and I walk him to his car. Suddenly, I feel a bit awkward for the first time since our date started. What am I supposed to do now? Kiss him goodbye?
“I had a really good time today,” Luke says, leaning onto the vehicle. I think I’m supposed to find his casual pose hot.
Shaking the thought away, I give him a small smile. “Me too.”
Luke is staring at me in an odd way. Before I can process what’s unfolding right here right now, he moves his head closer to mine. Frozen, I stand still from both fear and anticipation.
In a moment, he presses his lips against my cold cheek. He does it so softly I think I might have imagined it.
Alarms go off in my head, but then his hand travels to my forearm and gives it a small squeeze. “See you around, Grace.”
I can only nod goodbye.
What the hell has just happened?
***
“And then he kissed my cheek.”
Amber’s mouth drops. “He did not.”
Céline nudges her arm. “Shut up, you knew this already.” She does. I sent five voice notes to the group chat the second he drove away.
“There’s not much more to tell.” I shrug, locking eyes with my drink. It’s been hours, and I still have no idea how I’m feeling.
Did it feel invasive? Not really. I didn’t ask for it, but I guess most kisses just… happen. Nobody asks for permission, right?
“Are you going on a second date?” Emily asks.
“We haven’t talked about it, but I suppose?”
When I broke the news over our group chat earlier, they demanded an emergency meeting at Danny’s, hence why we’re now in one of the booths with drinks in our hands. We all have work and classes tomorrow, so we won’t be staying long.
Amber scans my face with her all-seeing eyes like she’s looking for something specific and when she finds it, she points at me with one of her long, red nails. “Something’s bothering you. What is it?”
She’s probably my most assertive friend besides Cal, so I’m not surprised that she picks up on my weird mood right away. “Honestly? I’m not even sure. He wasn’t creepy or anything, but there also wasn’t a spark between us.”
“You read too many romances,” Céline points out, always the voice of reason. “They can set unrealistic standards for relationships, you know?”
“I do, but it’s not like I was expecting this grand show of fireworks either. It’s just…” I shrug, not really knowing how to put my feelings into words. So much for an aspiring author. “My body didn’t tingle all over, if you know what I mean.”
“You weren’t horny, you mean,” Amber deadpans.
“Oh my god.” I cover my face with my hands and chuckle at her bluntness. “No, I wasn’t horny either, but that’s not what I meant.”
“What she means is that she didn’t feel an instant connection with him,” Emily chimes in as if she could read my thoughts. She turns to me, “Do you feel super excited to have another date with him?”
I mull it over. “It’s not like I’ll die if I don’t see him again.”
“So that’s a no.” Amber turns to Emily. “Next question.”
“Did your stomach jump when he kissed you?”
“No,” I answer right away. “But in his defense, I didn’t expect it so I couldn’t prepare.”
Em looks at me like she wants to ask me if I’m all right after that, so I give her a faint nod and she relaxes.
“That’s not an excuse. When Stella kissed me this summer, I wasn’t expecting it either and I still felt all the fireworks,” Céline adds with a longing smile.
I shrug. “Maybe it’s me. Maybe I can’t feel fireworks with anyone.”
The moment the words leave my lips, though, I know it’s a lie. I did feel fireworks the first time Cal held me, while we were watching TV at his apartment. I did feel fireworks when he showed me the thoughtful sketch of my tattoo. I do feel fireworks when he plays with his sister, or when he sends me a cute text, or when he teases me about my smutty books.
But I don’t think those count.
“Absolutely not.” Emily’s sharp tone brings me back to reality. “It’s not you, Grace. It’s okay not to feel a spark on the first date. It can happen, but it’s not an omen for anything.”
Amber nods. “You can go on another date with him and see where that goes. It’s possible that your special connection needs some time.”
I nod back, but something at the back of my head is telling me that I don’t really have any kind of special connection with Luke. He’s a great guy and not creepy in the slightest, but that doesn’t mean I have to be attracted to him. Being a decent human being isn’t enough to make me fall in love with a person.
“He’s experienced, too, which I guess is intimidating,” I add as I play with my pink straw. It reminds me of Maddie and her all-pink and all-princess obsession.
“If you have any questions, babe, here I am,” Amber says with twinkly eyes and a knowing smile. “But Google has the answer for everything these days. People write blogs about anything. Wait! One of my hometown friends talks about sex and relationships on her page. She’s a certified sexologist. I’m texting you the link.”
I blink. “She’s a what, now?”
Amber chuckles as she types something on her phone. A second later, my own screen lights up with her text. “A sexologist. They study human sexuality, anatomy… That sort of thing.”
“She’s basically a sex expert,” Céline quips.
“And a great one at that,” Amber reassures me. “I’m serious, look at her blog tonight. She covers all kinds of topics, things you’ve probably never even asked yourself before.”
Later that night, I come across a post about having healthy sexual relationships after sexual abuse in her friend’s blog. I read it three times.
It says that one key aspect to keep in mind if I want to learn about positive sexual relationships is to experience them with someone I trust and feel one-hundred-percent safe with. Is Luke that person?
No.
But I know who is, and I know who to ask for help.
