Loathe to Love You by Ali Hazelwood

            “I just didn’t think this would feel . . . scary. I figured I’d be way cooler. Smoother, I guess.”

            “Sadie, you . . .” He exhales and reaches for me again. This time he doesn’t stop and pushes back my hair, tucking it behind my ear like he wants to see my face in full. Like he wants me to see him. “You don’t have to be any way. I didn’t bring you here so you could perform for me.”

            I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Right. You brought me here because I propositioned you, and then—”

            “I brought you here because I wanted to be with you. I’d have kept on walking around the city till dawn if that was what you wanted. So, here’s the deal: we can spend the night fucking, and I won’t lie, I’d greatly enjoy that, but we could also play Guess Who?, or you could help me give my brother’s cat his flea medication, since it’s a two-, maybe three-person job. Any of the above works.”

            I really, really don’t want to tear up. Instead I let myself fall back onto the bed, my head on his one pillow. “What if I wanted to play the FIFA video game?”

            “I would ask you to leave.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I do not own any gaming console.”

            I laugh, a little watery. “I knew you were too good to be true.”

            “I used to have a Game Boy in the ’90s,” he offers. “Maybe my dad kept it.”

            “Partial redemption.” We’re both smiling now, and my fear of him liquefies, like snow in the sun. Only to ice all over again in another form: fear of not having him. “Did I fuck this up?”

            “Fuck what up?”

            I gesticulate in his direction, then in mine. Us, I want to say, but it seems premature. “This . . . this thing.”

            He lies down next to me, facing me. He purposefully left a few inches between us, but of their own volition, like vines twining around tree trunks, my legs travel across the sheets and tangle loosely with his. This time the contact is not scary, only right and natural. He’s still big and different and a little awe-inducing, but he’s not on top of me, and I feel more in control. Like I could step away whenever. And I know now that he’d let me. “Maybe I can unfuck it up?” I ask hopefully.

            He sighs. “Sadie, I want to tell you something, but I’m afraid you won’t like it.”

            Oh no. “What is it?”

            A pause. “You are a brilliant engineer who knows the Premier League stats of the past three decades off the top of your head. Physically, you are the uncanny combination of every single feature I’ve ever found attractive—no, I will not expand on that. And you saved me on your phone as Corporate Thor, even after I gave you my full name.”

            “I wasn’t sure about the spelling and—you saw that?”

            “Yup.” His hand comes up to cup my cheek. “This is it, Sadie. I don’t think there’s any fucking this up.”

            A million hopeful fireworks explode in my head. My heart squeezes in my chest, heavy and sweet. Okay. Okay. “So I have not turned you off sex forever?”

            He huffs out a laugh. “I doubt me not wanting to have sex with you is something we’ll ever need to worry about, Sadie.”

            “Even if I’m bad at it?”

            “You’re not.”

            “I didn’t think so. I thought I was okay. I mean, average. But maybe—”

            “Sadie.” With a hand on my waist he pulls me a little closer. Just enough for his eyes to meet mine and for my entire world to narrow to him. “Let’s take it slowly. We’ll get there,” he tells me, like he knows, he just knows that this is the first night of many.

            “Are you sure?”

            “Strong suspicion. Would you feel better if I put my clothes back on?”

            I shake my head, and then, on an impulse, close the distance between us. The other kisses he led, which I loved, but with this one I’m in charge, and it’s exactly what I need. He doesn’t try to deepen it till I do. Doesn’t come closer till I shift toward him. Doesn’t try to touch me till I take his hand and set it on my hip, and even then it’s gentle, fingers skimming up and down my thigh, tracing my rib cage ridge by ridge, my spine knob by knob.