by Alexis Angel
Instead, I want to spend that time with Nicole. Even if it gets me nothing.
What's happening to me?
Nicole
Thomas doesn't give up. No matter how slow I need to go, he makes sure we do that. It's endearing. Especially since I can tell how much he wants me. He practically vibrates with arousal when he's around me. I can almost smell it coming off of him. There's no question that I want him, too. I'm just not ready to take that next step.
When I first met him, I was sure he'd try to charm me out of my pants the way so many other men have tried to do. They didn’t give a crap about anything but what I had between my legs.
Thomas is different. As we spend more and more time together, he's shown me that he's interested in me as a person. Sure, he tells me often how beautiful I am, and I know he wants so much more than I'm willing to give him.
Despite that, he never pressures me too much. He respects my boundaries. At the same time, he makes it clear how much he wants me. I should've told him the truth about why I held back, but the idea of revealing that secret terrifies me. Thomas would run away the moment I told him I wanted to wait until I was in love to lose my virginity. I feel guilty for not telling him. He has a right to know, but I'm too selfish to risk losing him by telling him the truth.
Despite not knowing what's holding me back, Thomas has been surprisingly patient with me. He treats me with respect. We’ve been on a few more dates, and it's been solely about getting to know each other. Other than kissing, he doesn't push me into anything I'm not comfortable with. I’d been nervous the first time, but he had given me no reason to worry. Well, on his part. I'm still nervous about myself. The more time I spend around him, the less I'm sure I'll be able to control myself around him. What we have isn't love, but that doesn't mean I don't want more than just a kiss from him.
I meet him at the corner of Seventh Avenue and West Fifty-Ninth Street. "Why are we meeting here?" I ask him when I walk up.
"I have a surprise for you," Thomas says. He gestures with his hand to a white carriage with four horses and a driver.
"We're going on a tour through Central Park."
I smile at him. "Really?" I ask.
He nods. "When you live in a country, you tend to avoid the tourist destinations and miss out on the best your country has to offer."
This is true. I've gone to all the tourist attractions when I’d traveled to Germany, but I had never been on a carriage ride around central park.
The driver turns in his seat when we climb into the carriage.
"We're going to cover the South Quadrant of Central Park," he says. "That includes Sheep Meadow, the Balto Statue, Tavern on the Greene, and more."
He smiles at us. Thomas nods at him. "Good man," he says.
The driver clicks his tongue and flicks the reins, and we are off.
"This is so nice," I say as we enter Central Park at West Drive. The park is green. Pedestrians are out enjoying the weather and the beautiful surroundings, and the sun breaks through the clouds, mimicking how I feel.
"Your country is a beautiful place," Thomas says. "You should celebrate it."
"Your patriotism is impressive," I say. "I’m proudly American, but I don’t think anyone sees the country as passionately as tourists do. I mean, we’re just trying to live and get by, you know? We hardly have time to stop and see everything with fresh eyes."
Thomas shrugs. "Where I come from, being from Elanda is to be proud. Our country is not very big, but our hearts are, and we swell with pride that we've made the most of what we have."
I smile. "That’s very poetic," I say. "Are all the people in Elanda so proud of who they are?"
Thomas shrugs. "I don’t know," he says. "I haven’t been there for a long time."
I frown.
"Until now, I had the feeling that you weren’t that excited about your country and maybe going back one day."
Thomas looks out over the scenery. He doesn't respond to me.
"I didn’t mean to intrude," I say.
Thomas shakes his head. "You weren’t. You’re right–it seems I’m quite conflicted about my own country."
I don't respond. I don't know what to say. We drive in silence for a while. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves and the wheels of the carriage mingle with the sounds of children playing and the chatter of the pedestrians walking. It's peaceful to be out in nature, seeing Central Park the way people used to for more than a hundred and fifty years.
It's Thomas. I'm not under any illusion that the setting is the only thing that makes me feel at ease. I'm comfortable around him in ways I haven't been with anyone else. Whenever I'm around people, I always feel a little bit different, a little bit strange, a little left out. With him, I don't.
Being with Thomas is a lot like coming home.
And I'm falling for him. Yes, it is quick. It's unexpected. I haven't thought I'd fall for someone this quickly, and at first, I hadn’t wanted to admit it. But it's true.
I find that when I'm away from him, I can't stop thinking about him. I'm excited to see him again when we arrange our dates. When I wake up in the morning, I want to hear from him. When something funny happens, he's the person I want to tell.
Don’t worry about love, I hear Lisa say. Just have fun.
I can't do that, though. I can't go around and have fun with Thomas without giving a part of me to him.
Everything about him is different than any of the other guys I’ve been with. Not only is he charming and handsome, the kind of person you can stare at all day long. Something about the way he carries himself and approaches things, the way he looks at life, is almost regal. I have the sense that he's above it all, but not in a way that is arrogant or snobbish. Thomas has an air of importance about him that has to be inherent.
I glance at him. His eyes slip over the scenery, and his mouth curls into a smile. This has been a surprise for me, but he's enjoying it just as much.
I reach for his hand and interlink our fingers. He glances at me and smiles, pressing my knuckles to his lips.
He does this often. It makes me feel special, important, delicate. I understand now what it's all about, feeling cared about by someone.
"Qu'est-ce que vous avez de beaux yeux," Thomas says.
I giggle. "I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded nice. And it sounded French?"
Thomas smiles and nods. "What beautiful eyes you have," he says. "That’s what it means."
I blush. No matter how well I get to know him or how much time we spend together, he manages to get me to blush every time.
"I didn’t know you spoke French," I say.
Thomas shrugs. "My country is on the border between Germany and France. We are all fully bilingual. I'm fluent in French and German, and thanks to my education here, English."
I laugh. "That’s impressive. I can barely speak English properly."
I look at Thomas. He isn't laughing with me. Instead, his eyes are soft, his face gentle. He looks at me like he hasn't seen me before. I fight the urge to squirm.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask.
"Tu es la femme la plus belle au monde, il n'y a pas de mots pour le dire." He lifts his hand and touches my face. His fingers are sure on my skin. I shiver. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world. There are no words to describe it."
I melt. Everything about Thomas is magical. Every time we spent time together, it just becomes more so.
"You can’t keep doing this to me," I say to him.
He frowns, taking his hand away. I feel the absence of his fingers on my skin acutely.
"What?" he asks.
I shake my head. "You can’t keep flooring me with all this flattery and beautiful gifts. I can’t keep up. Right now, you’re the most romantic person I’ve ever seen."
Thomas laughs. "I can’t help it," he says. "If you had any idea how you make me feel, you’d understand. Let me show you how you look in my eyes."
Thomas turns his head to
me. He leans in toward me. I tip up my head and meet him halfway when he kisses me. His kiss is something I crave now, and his passions are something I miss when I'm not with him.
The kiss is warm and insistent. Thomas lifts his hand and puts it on my cheek. When he holds me like that, I feel delicate and petite. He makes me feel as beautiful as he keeps saying I am. His kisses me eagerly, his tongue slipping into my mouth like he is tasting me.
There are people all around us, and I don't care. Let them look and see what real passion looks like. Right here, right now, I'm exactly where I want to be, doing what I want to do.
When Thomas finally breaks the kiss, I put my head on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his body. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and we drive through the rest of Central Park like that, hand in hand, arm in arm.
Will I end up sleeping with Thomas? A part of me shouts yes. Another part still isn't sure. I've been holding back for so long, I'm not sure if I'll take that step. But if this isn't enough to get me to sleep with a guy, what the hell will it take? Lisa has told me so many times that it isn't a big deal, that I just needed to get my virginity out of the way and enjoy myself.
I look at Thomas. He doesn't know yet that I'm a virgin. Will I tell him? Will we get that far? I know what I feel for him, but I don't know if I can act on it.
If it were up to him, we would've slept together that first night.
I'm not sure what will happen between us in the future. I don't know what we will become, or how a long-term relationship works. I don't even know if this is something that can happen.
What I d know is that right now, I'm deliriously happy.
Thomas
We go back to her apartment after our carriage ride through the park. The last time I was here, we’d gotten dangerously close to sex, and she’d asked me to leave. She’d told me that she hadn’t kicked me out, but it had felt that way.
Our relationship has progressed despite the minor setback, and I'm starting to believe her that it isn't a full rejection.
It's different between us this time. She's more open toward me. Even though we've had so little time together, I feel like I know her a lot better. Normally, I hop right into the sack with women. No waiting. No drawn-out romance. Just instant, animal lust.
But Nicole is forcing me to wait. By doing so, something strange is beginning to happen. She's becoming more than just an object of pleasure or someone to pursue. I'm really starting to like this girl. I don't want to sleep with her for the sake of getting another notch on my bed post, either. This is becoming more than that.
I want to be with her for her, not just for sex. I also want her for sex, but it isn't just to throw one in her and move on with my life. Sex with Nicole feels like it would be the culmination of something bigger.
"What do you want to do?" she asks.
I blink at her. God, I can think of something I'd like to do. I flash on the image of her naked breasts that have been burned into my mind. Just thinking about it gets me hot and bothered. I swallow and lick my lips.
I don’t know what my face shows–maybe a little of what I feel–but she looks uncomfortable. I don't want that with her at all. I want her to be as comfortable around me as we’ve been until now. It's the only reason I don't press her to get physical. Obviously, she doesn't want that. It's almost like she is afraid. When things finally happen between us, and it will happen, I want her to want it, too.
"Let’s watch a movie," I say, opting for something innocent and nonthreatening. It's a sign of how much I like her. If most girls held back the way she does, I'd just head on home, or out to a bar at this point. When it comes to sex, I'm not a patient man. But for some reason, Nicole is different.
She breathes out, as if in relief, and walks to the TV stand. She reaches for a stack of DVDs on the shelf and hands them to me to choose one. I go through them.
"This is not a usual selection," I say.
She shrugs. "I don’t like the type of stuff that everyone else watches."
I nod. Different. Everything about her is like that. I read the back of the DVD covers, trying to decide what to watch. I haven't even heard of most of them. Her eyes are on me as I sort through them. I'm aware of her stare.
I finally settle on one called Le Concert. It's as good as any other, considering I’ve never heard of it and have no idea what to expect.
"This is a good one," she says, taking it from me. "It has a lot of French in it as well. With your apparent language skills, you won’t even need to read the subtitles."
I chuckle. I haven't told her much about myself. The French just poured out of me in the park. It's a language of love, and it always helps to impress women.
I walk to her open plan kitchen. "Do you want coffee?" I ask.
"Please." She fiddles with the remote, putting on the DVD while I make coffee in the kitchen. I rummage through her cupboards, trying to find coffee and sugar. I knew where the cups were after my first night here.
When she has the movie ready and the coffee is made, I walk back to the living room and hand her a cup. I sit down next to her. She moves against me, pressing her body against mine. This is a surprise, although a pleasing one. It feels like a big step for her to make physical contact with me now so easily.
In the beginning, she’d held back so much. As difficult as it was for me to take things slowly with her, it's clearly working. I need to let her make the first moves. It isn't easy for me, considering it's so different from the way I do things with every other girl. But that's Nicole in a nutshell. She is different. Better. Worth it.
I sip my coffee and stretch my arm out on the couch behind her. I want to put my arm around her shoulders and pull her close to me, but not yet. I'll wait just a little, until the movie has been running for a while.
I like being with her. Lately, everything is different. I want to spend time with her, going on dates that are different or just spending time together doing nothing at all. I want to get to know her as a person. I can't remember feeling like this with anyone else.
I'm starting to fall for her. That has to be it. Out of all the girls I’ve been with, she has changed me. The worst part is the timing. I know it isn't supposed to be this way. I'm leaving in fourteen days. All I have left are two weeks. I can't just forget about her, though. I want to spend every possible minute with her that I have left.
When I leave, I'll get over it. I'll get over her. Right now, and until that happens, I won't even think about it.
The movie is interesting, but I can't focus. When I finish my coffee and her cup is empty on the table, I put my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer against me. Her body is warm. I rub her shoulder with my hand and kiss her hair.
She looks up at me, tilting her face so I can kiss her on the mouth. I don't waste any time taking the opportunity.
She kisses me with abandon. It's nothing like before. She’d been so careful and hesitant before this. This time, it's as if she’s just waiting for me to make a move. She turns toward me, shifting on the seat. I put my hand on her cheek and kiss her deeply. The kiss turns from gentle to urgent quite quickly. Our lips mash against each other, almost like we're making up for lost time. She's breathing hard. My sex throbs in my pants, eager for release. I don't know if it's going to come, though. I don't want to get my hopes up too much. I want to savor whatever happens between us, and not be disappointed because things didn’t work out like I wished they would.
"God, Nicole, I want you," I say against her lips. Maybe it's too much, telling her that I want her. It wouldn’t be too much for other girls. Hell, it's fairly tame compared to what I’d normally say. But Nicole is different. She's delicate. One rough touch, and she’ll pull away from me. She'll reject me again.
I want her to know, though, and this is the lightest touch I can use. I want to be with her. I want all of her, not just the little bit she’s been giving me until now.
She hesitates just a moment before kissing me again. The urgency returns, a
nd I'm relieved.
Nicole breaks the kiss and looks at me. Her eyes are the color of slate, deep and dark, not pale as they usually are. She swallows. She's breathing hard.
"I have to talk to you," she says.
My stomach tightens. When women stop kissing for a sentence like that, it's never good. I nod and loosen my grip on her. She doesn't move away from me. It's a good sign.
"What is it?" I ask.
She looks nervous. She won't make eye contact with me. She twists her fingers around each other in a way that can't be comfortable. I will her to get it out, but she hesitates.
"You’re driving me crazy, here," I say. The sentence has a double meaning to it. I just want her, and she keeps stopping me. The added suspense is about as much as I can handle.
"Okay," she starts. "I know that we haven’t really seen that much of each other. I mean, compared to some other people who know each other for a long time." She takes a deep breath. "Even though we haven’t spent that much time together, I feel like… well, we know each other. You know?"
I nod. I feel it, too. I keep quiet, waiting for her to keep talking. If I fill the silence, she might never unburden herself with whatever is bothering her.
"I guess, well, what I’m trying to say to you… I like you. I mean, I really do. I’m starting to fall for you."
She says the last part of her sentence fast, like getting it over quickly will make it easier.
A smile spreads slowly over my face. I brush her hair out of her face and trace her profile with my fingertips.
"You scared me there," I say. "I thought you were going to kick me out of the house again."
She shakes her head. "I didn’t kick you out. I didn’t mean it like that."
"I’m joking," I say softly. "Relax."
She blows out her breath in a shudder. I think back to Jessica, who had told me without any introduction that she loved me. It had been so easy for her to throw out the words. It had been hard for Nicole. It makes me feel like it's real with her, like she means it.