Admit You Want Me

by Holloway, Taylor

“Ok. Sure. I’ll set that aside for now. What did you two do on your entirely platonic outing?”

  I squirmed a bit. “We went to a football game.”

  Lily gaped at me. “I’m sorry. Did you just say that you went to a football game?” You would have thought I’d just attended a satanic ritual. To be fair, until recently, the two were equally probable.

  “Yes,” I said proudly. “I did.” I’d successfully gotten out of my comfort zone. Ward could say what he liked about my narrow-mindedness, but I’d risen to the occasion. Now we’d both get to see if he would do the same.

  “You must really be into this guy,” she said, shaking her head. Lily and I had a similar dislike of football, although for entirely different reasons. Like most people in the rest of the world, Lily thought football was an entirely different game (soccer), and the game we play in the United States is a ridiculous, misnamed abomination. I have a more general disdain for all sports, on principle.

  “You’re seriously misreading this situation, Lily.”

  “One of us definitely is, but I’m quite certain that it isn’t me.” She looked down her nose at me and then burst into giggles. “Ok, so what’s his name?”

  Finally, a question that I could actually answer. “His name is Ward Williams.”

  “Nice name. Strong. Alliterative. And you work with him at the bar?” She was fishing for details.

  “Yes,” I said, but then my conscience forced me elaborate, “actually, Ward doesn’t just work there. He owns the bar.”

  That earned me a raised eyebrow and a small frown. Her expression looked much more serious all of a sudden. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re now dating your boss?”

  “You may somehow be hearing that, but that is literally not at all what I’m telling you.” Lily was beginning to frustrate me. In particular, I was not a fan of the way she was

  looking at me. Like she knew better and was excited for me. Her superiority reminded me, ironically, of the way Ward sometimes looked at me.

  “And you’re certain that you don’t find him the tiniest bit attractive?” She asked after a small pause. “I saw him, you know. So, don’t lie. He’s bloody gorgeous.”

  “I never said I didn’t find him physically attractive.” I was just annoyed enough to admit it. “But I’m not looking for anything serious, and I don’t think he likes me that way at all.”

  Lily’s mouth turned into a small ‘o’ shape. “So, it’s just a hookup situation? Well why didn’t you just say that?”

  I sighed, getting more worked up. My voice clearly indicated my irritation—it was shrill even to my ears. “No! It’s not a hookup thing either. It’s not any type of thing. Look, I think we should stop talking about this now.”

  Lily sat back and nodded. “Ok. I can see I’m making you unhappy. I didn’t mean to. You know me. I just get excited.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Lily and I were well on our way to becoming best friends, and I depended on her for a lot of things, even if we clashed sometimes. Unlike Ward, she could admit when she was wrong, apologize, and we’d just move past it. That was one of the things I liked about Lily, even if she used my conditioner and drank stinky tea. She didn’t feel the need to constantly push my buttons.

  “Oh, so do you know the new professor or something? He keeps asking me about you,” Lily asked after a moment. Unlike me, Lily had a great TA gig this semester with Dr. Lieu. Her curiosity was innocent, but I needed to tell her everything if she was going to be anywhere near Adam. I didn’t want her to get put in the middle of any of his bullshit. And I also didn’t want her telling him a goddamn thing about me.

  “Oh god,” I said, cringing. “I’m going to need alcohol for this.”

  14

  Emma

  After explaining the whole sad, humiliating saga of Emma and Adam to Lily over a bottle of prosecco, she was second-hand furious, and I was drunk. I slunk back to my bedroom in disgrace, feeling even worse about myself than I had before. I caught a look at myself in the mirror and found myself staring.

  It’s not like I was objectively ugly, mean, boring, or stupid. I wasn’t perfect, but I certainly wasn’t physically repellent, and I tried to be a good person. I just couldn’t seem to find anyone that wanted a relationship with me. The guys I liked only ever wanted to hook up with me. I thought for a while that it had something to do with Adam, that he’d marked and ruined me somehow, but as much as I wanted to blame him for everything wrong in the world, I didn’t think it was his fault.

  It was me. Something about me clearly just screamed that I was easy prey for jerks. Since moving to Texas, I’d had three very nice-looking men in three years tell me they liked dating me but ‘wanted to try out non-monogamy’ after a month or two. I just wasn’t enough to hold their interest. Was it some combination of personality and looks that I lacked? I really didn’t know. The few dates I’d been on where the guys seemed interested in something long term had fizzled. I just wasn’t into those guys, even when I felt like I should have been.

  In my inebriated state, the disturbing truth was becoming clear to me at last. I preferred hot guys that were bad for me. The ones I wanted were always the ones that were trouble from the very start. Hot guys could easily play the field, and so they did. I just happened to be on the field because I had an exclusive attraction to manwhores. I was a manwhore-sexual. The nice guys, the ones who want to get married and build a house with a white picket fence, those guys just didn’t do it for me. I wanted… well, I wanted Ward. And Ward clearly wasn’t from the picket fence group at all.

  For reasons that weren’t remotely rational, I took a few pictures of myself in the mirror in a white tank top and shorts, examining them for obvious flaws. I was too scared and not drunk enough to text one to Ward, but still drunk enough to think it was a good idea to text him at midnight. My fingers were texting before my brain caught up to them.

  Emma: Hey. So, did you go to the sorority party after you left?

  The buzz of the response arrived swiftly. Almost as if Ward were waiting for me to text him.

  Ward: Seriously? Do you know what time it is?

  Emma: Is that a yes?

  Ward: No. I didn’t. I went home, changed, and went out with Kate, like I said. I’m much less exciting than you seem to think.

  I could almost see him shaking his head at me through the text message. He’d be disapproving but smiling. And god, that sexy smirk of his. He made me feel things when he aimed that smirk at me. Good things. Bad things. Things that I wanted—needed—more of.

  Emma: You didn’t want to go to the party?

  Ward: Why do you ask?

  Emma: I have a curious disposition.

  Ward: Curiosity killed the cat.

  Emma: Aha! I see I’ve got you thinking about pussy.

  Ward: Whoa. Christ. Emma… are you drunk?

  I giggled like an idiot when I read his question and took another sip of the cheap prosecco. It slid down my throat and encouraged me.

  Emma: A bit. Yeah.

  Ward: You’re too honest sometimes, you know that?

  Emma: I thought it was good to be honest.

  Ward: Someone less honorable than me might try to take advantage of you in this situation.

  Emma: Maybe that’s exactly what I’m aiming for.

  His reply took a full thirty seconds of staring at the little ‘typing’ icon. I held my breath until the message dinged.

  Ward: I feel like I should remind you that I’m your boss. Although I like where this is going.

  Emma: Yes, I’m well aware.

  Ward: Which part?

  Emma: All of it. I know you don’t date. I know you only like one-night stands.

  Ward: You’re probably going to regret this when you’re sober. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  Emma: Consider me officially warned.

  Ward: Are you going to invite me over then? If this is a booty call, I want to know up front. I’d also need to stop
for condoms unless you have some.

  He didn’t pull his punches. I liked that about him. He went right for what he wanted. And at the moment, he wanted me. I bit my lip, considering. Imagining. In vivid detail, I could picture what would happen if I said yes to Ward tonight. I’d have to send Lily away though. I’m not quiet when I... Another sip of prosecco went down my throat before I replied. This is why they call it liquid courage.

  Emma: I’m not that drunk.

  At least, not yet. Another long sip of prosecco. It was sweet and tingly on my tongue. I fidgeted on my bed while I waited for him to reply.

  Ward: Oh, I see. So, what, you’re just teasing me to be cruel?

  Emma: Not at all.

  Ward: Are you alone?

  Emma: Yes. Are you?

  Ward: Yes. Extremely.

  I was extremely alone too. My body was screaming for the sort of release my vibrator just wasn’t capable of. It was screaming for a man, but not just any man. I wanted Ward. Part of me wanted him to invite himself over so I wouldn’t have to. I felt like I was spiraling out of control and I willed the feeling to stick around long enough for me to get off. I needed it, even if I wasn’t brave enough to ask for it.

  Emma: Then how’s this for cruel?

  I sent him the picture I’d taken earlier in the mirror. In it, I was staring up at the camera, lips parted, and eyes bright. My nipples were hard and dark pink through the fabric of my white top, and I was pushing my tits together and up with one arm underneath, clasping my midsection. My blue sleep shorts were short and tight enough to reveal the folds of my sex.

  Ward: Fuck. Emma, you… this is a bad idea.

  Emma: You don’t like my picture? That hurts.

  Ward: No. I fucking hate it. It’s the worst. Send me another one without that awful top.

  I debated but couldn’t quite do it. I even tugged off my top and posed with the camera open. But I couldn’t pull the trigger. I’d never sent someone a nude, or even partially nude picture of myself. My body clenched at the thought though, deep inside. It left a slow, throbbing ache between my thighs. I was imagining him imagining me. Was he touching himself? Stroking? I wanted to touch him. I rubbed my legs together restlessly, but it did nothing to help the ache between them.

  Emma: You first.

  Ward: Absolutely. With pleasure.

  The picture he sent made my fingers slip on my phone, dropping it on my own face like an idiot. When I recovered enough to peak at it again, my mouth fell open in true disbelief. In it, Ward was shirtless, and wearing only a pair of black boxers. The muscles of his abs and chest were just as perfectly sculpted in the picture as in my memory, and he had that sexy cut where his hips met his torso. His face wasn’t visible, but his erection clearly was, straining thick and long against the thin fabric. I ran my tongue across my lips, imagining. He was massive. No matter what happened with Ward, I’d be saving this picture. Suddenly my remaining clothes were feeling extremely heavy, hot, and uncomfortable. I wriggled out of my shorts until I was in just my tiny, black thong.

  Emma: Wow. I’m… I’m speechless. Those sorority girls don’t know what they’re missing.

  Ward: Quit talking about them. I don’t want them. I want you. I’m waiting for my picture. I’ve been thinking about your tits since I first laid eyes on you again.

  Emma: Really?

  Ward: Really.

  Emma: I’ve been thinking about you too. More than I want to admit.

  Ward: I know.

  Emma: This isn’t a good idea, is it?

  Ward: No. It isn’t a good idea at all. But I need that picture. I sent you one. Are you too scared?

  It was a challenge, and god help me, I’ve always loved a challenge. But… I still had a shred of dignity. Or was it self-preservation? Something made me hesitate.

  Emma: Swear to me that you won’t show it to anyone? Ever?

  Ward: I would never.

  My sex clenched. I believed him. I took the picture of myself in a daze and sent it with my breath held. I’d covered my nipples and supported my heavy breasts with my arm, but with just the thong, there was very little left to the imagination.

  Ward: Fuck. You’re going to be the death of me.

  Emma: Is that a good thing?

  Ward: Depends on whether you think my survival is a good thing.

  My phone’s ringtone startled the hell out of me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. The number belonged to Ivan, Lily’s boyfriend.

  “Hello?” I answered, confused as to why he’d be calling me at midnight. Or at all.

  “Hey, Emma?” Ivan’s voice was muffled over the sound of sirens. “Sorry to call you so late. Lily’s phone is off, or maybe she’s sleeping, but I got into a minor wreck on I-35. I’m fine and no one’s hurt but my car is fucked. Can you go wake her up? I need a ride.”

  My brain readjusted from lust to crisis management in a few painful seconds. By the time Ivan finished speaking, I was already pulling my clothes back on.

  “Oh my god, Ivan, that’s awful. Yeah, I’ll go get Lily right now. Can I call you back in two seconds?”

  “Sure. Thanks Emma. Talk to you soon.”

  Emma: Hey, I’ve got a minor emergency I have to deal with. My roommate’s boyfriend was just in a car accident. Gotta go.

  Ward: Shit! Do you need anything?

  Emma: No, it’s ok. No one’s hurt. I just gotta go now.

  Ward: Please don’t drive. You’re too drunk.

  Emma: I won’t drive. Lily’s sober.

  Ward: Promise?

  Emma: I promise.

  Ward: Ok. Be safe.

  Emma: Good night.

  Ward: Good night Emma.

  Reluctantly, I closed the chat window and grabbed my shoes. Frustration spread through my body from toes to fingertips like a poison. Ivan might have just saved me from making a huge mistake, but at this moment I was uncharitably hoping he had whiplash and a black eye. I pushed my lingering achy horniness to the back of my mind. I knew it would still be there later, waiting for me. That and my picture of Ward.

  15

  Emma

  The next time I saw Ward was two days later. Because I didn’t know what to say, and because I’m a lot less brave when I’m sober, I didn’t say anything. Not even ‘hi’. I just nodded a greeting, tied on my apron, fixed my smile in place, and got to work. For the next few hours, my words to him were limited to the absolute minimum necessary to do my job. With every terse interaction, I could see Ward getting more and more suspicious. His eyes followed me around the bar, something unknown but intense burning brightly behind them. I should have known the silent approach was doomed to fail.

  “You’re avoiding me again,” Ward announced when he found me on my break. He leaned against the wall and stared at me expectantly.

  I couldn’t very well deny it. I nodded and looked down at the laces of my boots. They were interesting, my shoelaces. Very, very fascinating with their loops and their knots... “Yeah. Sorry.”

  We stood there in silence for a moment before Ward sighed.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. When I peeked up at him, his face was frustrated. I hardly needed to ask what he was talking about.

  “I’m not that kind of girl,” I finally managed to say.

  “What kind of girl?” Ward asked. He now looked confused as well as frustrated. My heart pounded in my chest like I’d been running a marathon. I swallowed hard before continuing.

  “The kind you think I am.”

  “What kind of girl is that?” Ward looked genuinely perplexed, and it made me feel even worse.

  “The carefree, casual kind.” I replied, shaking my head. “The kind that texts dirty pictures like that, or who sleeps around and then goes back to work like nothing happened. I’m just not that freewheeling. I don’t like one-night stands. That one time… it was a mistake. So was texting you.”

  Ward was quiet for a moment. His face was puzzled like he was trying to solve a particularly difficult ma
th problem. Eventually he shook his head and sighed.

  “So, are you telling me that you wish it never happened? Fine. We’ll just forget about it.” His voice was entirely mild. Understanding even. But he looked uncomfortable for the very first time I’d ever seen. It was an expression that didn’t suit him.

  I took a deep breath. To steady myself. To buy me a moment to figure out what I wanted to say and how to say it. It didn’t help. I rushed forward before I lost my nerve.

  “I don’t do the just casual sex thing with guys. I can’t. So, yeah, I guess we should just forget it.”

  “Ok. Consider it forgotten.” Ward shook his head, but I didn’t know if it was disappointment, irritation, or relief, in his eyes. “If you change your mind. Let me know.” There was just enough heat left in his gaze to remind me what I was missing.

  I felt like I was being ripped into thirds. A piece of me that was simmering just under the surface was screaming for him to tell me he didn’t want just casual sex either. Another piece was grateful he was letting me off the hook before he kissed me, and I gave in. A final piece didn’t mind being a casual hookup as long as I got to be his for an hour or two. None of the pieces was fully satisfied by this conversation.

  “Ok,” I said. My voice was small. I folded my arms around my midsection and wished I could be anywhere else.

  “Ok. Does this mean you’re going to stop looking at me like I ran over your puppy dog?” Ward stared at me intensely.

  “Is that how I’ve been looking at you?” I hadn’t realized. My lips curled upward into an involuntary smile. I suppose I had been acting strangely.

  “Yes! Jesus. You’ve got these big sad eyes on you tonight. It’s making me feel like a murderer or something.” He smiled back at me, and my spirits lifted just the tiniest bit that he wasn’t going to hold any of this over my head.

  “Sorry. I can go back to being mean to you. Did you like that better?”

  His laugh was a bitter, humorless little bark.

  “I won’t say that I liked that, but it was a lot better than feeling like a monster.”