by Noelle Adams
“A few. Occasionally. Just in passing,” she admitted, relieving some kind of deep anxiety that Caleb hadn’t even known he possessed. “But that’s just a natural, physical reaction. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Why can’t we just take it slow and see what happens? I’m willing to wait until you’re sure this is something you want.”
She shook her head and looked at the wall, her face desperate and torn. “I don’t want to.”
He was starting to think that maybe she did. She was afraid—who wouldn’t be after closing herself off to sex for so long—but fear was so easily overcome. “I’m not expecting to jump right into bed with you. We can take it as slowly as you need. You told me that you might be willing to give sex another try.”
Her eyes were deep and aching when she gazed up at him again. “But not with you.”
And that hurt. Hurt more than any words had in years. She wasn't trying to hurt him, though. She was afraid, and he could understand why.
Lifting her hand higher, he brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You’ve never thought about it before. Just think about it now. We could be so good together. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
He turned her hand over and pressed a kiss onto the pulse in her wrist. Felt her heart throbbing through her skin.
“You love me,” he continued. Closed his eyes momentarily to work up enough courage to say what he knew he had to say. “And I love you. What better foundation could we have to build a relationship on?”
He’d never told her he loved her before, although she’d said it to him plenty of times. It had been harder to say than he’d thought, and he was expecting some sort of reward for his efforts, for his honesty.
But she didn’t even seem to notice, as if he'd merely said something she'd always known. “I love you like you’re a brother or something along those lines, not like a—”
“You just told me that you’d sometimes felt sexual—”
“That’s just a physical response,” she insisted, yanking her hand out of his grasp. “Listen to me. You can make rational arguments and try to persuade me all you want. It’s not going to change this one thing.”
Caleb sucked in his breath, suddenly terrified.
“This is the only thing that matters.” She paused, spoke the words, as if she couldn’t bear to say them out loud. “Caleb, I just don’t ever want to have sex with you.”
If he could have continued to believe she was in denial or that she was trying to hide behind her fear, then it wouldn’t have been quite so unbearable.
But he couldn’t. And it was unbearable.
He knew Marissa—better than anyone else. She meant what she said.
It didn’t matter what Caleb felt about her or how deep his feelings went.
She might love him, but she didn’t want him.
And there was no overcoming that truth.
He realized with a wave of nausea that his devastation must be visible on his face, because she made a sound of concern and reached her hand out to him, realizing how much she'd wounded him and wanting to make it better.
Caleb eluded her touch. Couldn’t stand her pity. This hurt more than…well, more than anything he could remember. But it wasn't the end of the world. He had only a few weeks of his life invested in this—so surely he could get over it in a reasonable span of time.
“All right,” he said, his voice almost breaking. “I understand. It was stupid of me to assume that, just because I felt something, you would as well. We’ll just go back to being friends. I won’t bring it up again.”
The words sounded dreadful, awful, like some sort of bell tolling his doom. He tried not to hear them and mocked himself bitterly for becoming so melodramatic.
This was just a disappointment. A deep one, yes. But nothing earth-shattering. Nothing that would level his life.
It wasn’t as if his heart had been broken.
Tears started to stream out of her eyes, and despite himself he wanted to go comfort her. “But we can’t go back. Everything is different. Sex will always be between us now.”
She started to sob and raised her hands to cover her face.
“Marissa,” he began, reaching out for her.
“I don’t know if it can ever be the same between us again.”
He jerked back, as if her words had been a physical blow. If she were right—if this were true—then it was so much worse than he’d ever imagined.
He might be able to exist without having Marissa in his bed.
But could he exist without having her in his life?
Everything hurt so much he wasn’t sure he could process it. “Marissa,” he began again.
He had no idea what to say. Couldn't remember any other words.
She took a clumsy step backwards. “I can’t do this now.”
He stared at her blankly.
“I’m so sorry, Caleb. I know I’ve hurt you, and we can talk later.” She was crying helplessly, so her words were almost incoherent. “But I can’t do this now.”
He evidently needed to make it home, so he tried to block out her voice and wounded face.
“Can you just leave now? Please.”
Blocking them out didn’t help. He heard her words. Knew what they meant.
Marissa loved him. She would never have done this to him, would never have hurt him this much, if there were any possibility of her returning his feelings.
Silently, he turned around and reached for the doorknob. Turned it. Pulled the door open. Took a step into the hall. Each individual action stood out starkly. Took on excruciating significance.
He hadn’t seriously expected it to be easy, but he’d never doubted that he’d ultimately be successful in the end.
And never had it crossed his mind that his attempt to get more from Marissa might actually take something away.
Might actually take everything away.
She closed the door behind him, and he could hear her weeping on the other side.
He turned to stare at the closed door, unable to make his feet move.
He should have known better.
Being free—and not trapped—had always been his first priority, and that meant a few simple things.
When it came to human interaction, you took what was offered when it was offered, and you didn't ask for anything more.
Caleb tried to walk down the hall toward the elevator, but he couldn’t. He slumped down until he sat on the floor of the hallway, with his back against the wall across from her apartment.
He tried to think of a way out of this, back to the man he’d always been.
He could quit the symphony. Join James’s jazz band. Drown everything in an entirely new life.
An escape route, if he wanted to take it.
He hoped Marissa was all right. Hoped she wasn't bleeding like he was.
He wished he hadn't gotten up this morning. Wished he’d been able to control his damned cock. Wished he’d been content with what the universe had offered him.
Wished he’d managed to stay free.
***
In less than a minute, her apartment door flew open, and she burst into the hall.
“Caleb!” she cried, taking a few running steps toward the elevator. “Caleb! Don’t go! Caleb!”
He was too dazed and stunned to respond, but he straightened his back against the wall, something warm and overwhelming forcing its way through the pain in his chest.
She jerked to a stop. Then turned around, as if his presence had finally registered. With a sound like a sob, she ran over and sank onto her knees beside him. “Caleb, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She was still crying as she pulled him into a hug.
Caleb had no idea what was going on, but he wasn’t going to question this blessing descending on him unexpectedly. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her body against his tightly, holding her as closely as he could.
The hug went on for a long time, with neither of them speaking or pulling away. H
er face was buried in his shoulder, and his was buried in her soft hair. She clutched at his back, and something about the frantic need in her arms, her fingers, healed what had been shattered the moment before.
None of this made any sense at all, but Caleb suddenly believed the world might be bearable. He could find a way to accept never being able to make love to her, as long as he still had her in his life.
As long as this—Marissa both needy and needed in his arms—wasn’t taken away from him.
Finally, she shifted and pulled back from him just a little. She must be very uncomfortable, supported on her knees with her body twisted at a strange angle. “Caleb, I’m so sorry I pushed you away. I was so upset and confused, but I never should have made you leave. Don’t hate me, please.”
“Hate you?” he asked, his voice unrecognizable. “Baby, you’re the most important person in the world. Please tell me I didn’t destroy what we have by trying to push you into something you don’t want.”
Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. She tried again, but still couldn’t form any words. Finally, giving up, she leaned over and pressed a soft kiss onto the side of his jaw. “I don’t know how we’re going to work this out, but I’m not willing to lose what we have.”
An embarrassingly helpless sound escaped his throat, and he pulled Marissa against him once more.
Finally, she pulled back and smiled at him wetly. “Why were you sitting in the hall?”
“I, uh, thought I needed a little rest before I walked all the way to the elevator.”
Making a noise that was half-laugh, half-cry, she heaved herself to her feet and extended her hand. “Come back in. We’ll see if we can figure this out.”
He took her hand as she made a valiant attempt to pull him to his feet. They walked silently back into the apartment and ended up on the couch together. Instead of talking, she just curled up beside him, and they spent several minutes in what was essentially an extended hug.
Caleb tried not to think too much. She was warm and soft and strong against him, and she was hugging him just as tightly as he was her.
For the first time in his life, her naked need of him didn’t scare him, didn’t make him feel ill or uncomfortable. Instead, it made him feel…needed. Valued. Loved.
When she tried to detach herself from him at last, he didn’t let her.
Finally, she murmured, “Caleb,” and pulled against him harder.
Suddenly realizing what he was doing, he loosened his arms. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I feel that way too. But I feel ick in this dress, and I want to change clothes and wash my face. I’ll be back in a minute, and we can try to talk things out.”
He nodded and watched as she walked away, her hips swinging in her naturally sensual stride.
About five minutes later, she came padding back into the living room, wearing sweats and a freshly washed face, and carrying two large glasses of water.
He took his gratefully, wondering how she’d known he needed it. He gulped the water down.
Folding her legs up underneath her, Marissa settled on the sofa beside him. “So.”
“So,” Caleb repeated.
“So you love me the way I love you.”
This wasn’t at all the way he’d been expecting her to begin, so he started off on the wrong foot and said something foolish. “I didn’t think you even noticed when I said that.”
“Of course, I noticed. You’ve never told me that before. I always kind of assumed you did, though.”
All he could do now was be honest and hope it was enough. “I do. I have for years. I’ve just never said it.”
“I’m glad you did say it. So, to reiterate, you love me the way I love you. But you also want to have sex with me. But you’re not in love with me.” When he started to object, she hurried on, “At least, you said no when I asked you earlier.”
“Yes, I did say no, but I’m not sure about that. But yes to everything else.”
She was silent for so long that his chest ached again. Almost certainly, she was trying to find words to gently reaffirm that she could never return those particular feelings.
“It’s okay, Marissa,” he said at last, after several more sips of water. “It was arrogant of me to assume that you felt the way I do but were just too scared to admit it. As long as we can still be friends, I’ll work on getting over everything else.”
Her face crumpled for a minute, but she managed to compose herself. “You see, it’s not as simple as that. And that’s why I was so mean to you earlier, because I was so scared and confused about what a mess this has turned into. I wish so much that everything was clear—that either I wanted everything from you or that I wanted a kind of brotherly friendship—but it’s so hard because I’m just a chaotic jumble somewhere in between.”
An involuntary flicker of hope sprung up inside him at this, although he tried to use his common sense to crush it out. “You told me you didn’t ever want to have sex with me,” he said, the sharp pain returning to his chest as he repeated her words. “Marissa, I could tell you meant it. I understand. Some people just aren’t sexually attracted to certain people. It happens.”
“I did mean what I said. I don’t want to have sex with you, but it’s not because I’m not attracted to you.” She glanced down, as if she were suddenly shy. “I’ve just realized it recently, but I am attracted to you. Surely you could tell when…when we were dancing.”
The hope was rising again, but he tried to remain reasonable this time. “I thought maybe you were, but…” He had no idea what to say next.
“I have a few confessions of my own to make,” she said at last, her voice strained and thin. “I wasn’t entirely honest with you earlier. My feelings have been changing for you lately.”
“Really?” he breathed—all of his desperate hope now palpable in the one word.
Marissa reached out to touch his arm. “Caleb, please don’t get too excited. I don’t think this is what you’re going to want to hear. My feelings for you have been changing, or at least intensifying. I’ve always felt sort of like this, but it’s been growing stronger and stronger in the last few weeks.” She took a deep breath, but couldn’t look him in the eye. “I want to be with you all the time. I want to be close to you. Physically, I mean.”
Caleb hadn’t realized it was possible to feel so much despair and so much hope in the space of the same thirty minutes. “That sounds exactly like how I feel.”
“No, it’s not. Because I don’t want to have sex with you.”
“Have you thought about having sex with me?” he asked, keeping his voice undemanding.
“I have. I really have. And I sometimes feel sexual…urges when I’m around you.” She blushed yet again as she made this admission. “But when I try to imagine actually having sex with you, it makes me feel…sick.” She shuddered, as if she’d just conjured up the unpleasant picture in her mind.
He raised a hand to cover his eyes, so he could hide their expression. It had taken a lot of courage for her to say that, and he didn’t want her to regret it. Even though it felt like his heart had been carved up and handed back to him.
“I’m sorry, Caleb.” Evidently, she knew how he was feeling, even though he’d tried to keep it from her. “I know how much that must hurt you, but it’s true.”
They were silent for several minutes, as they both processed what had been said.
He tried to talk himself into accepting reality, but that foolish bit of hope refused to be snuffed out. “Maybe you could try to explain what goes through your mind when you think about having sex with me.”
She took a few sips of water and mumbled, barely able to get the words out, “When I imagine the…the preliminaries, it’s good. But then I try to imagine us in bed, and it’s just awful.”
For some reason, Caleb found this piece of information encouraging. “So it’s not me that’s the problem. It’s sex.”
“Yeah. It’s sex. Sex has always been the problem. Don’t l
ook so relieved. Nothing has changed.”
But it had changed. He was starting to understand something he hadn’t before. “What happened when you were a kid?”
Her head jerked up. “What do you mean?”
“Tell me what happened.”
“We’ve been over this. There was nothing traumatic, and it’s nothing you need to know.”
She’d always been so competent, so together in every other aspect of her life—far more together than he’d ever been—that it was hard to remember that her issues with sex ran deep, defined all of her choices.
Of course, she wasn’t going to fall into bed with him. She wasn’t just being spineless or indecisive. No matter what she liked to say, she didn’t just find sex distasteful. She hadn’t made a free choice not to have it in her life.
It terrified her. She was traumatized. She’d hidden it from him mostly, but he suddenly remembered how broken she’d been that night back in college.
“Baby, please tell me what happened. I do need to know.”
She looked away from him, obviously trying to keep control of her emotions.
He tried again. “Don’t you think you’ll feel better if you tell me?”
“It’s not about me feeling better.”
“Then what—”
“I’m not going to tell you, Caleb. Don’t ask me again.”
He could hear real fear in her voice. He experienced a simmering fury—far deeper than any anger he’d felt for James earlier—directed at whomever had hurt her so profoundly as a child. He wanted to press her for details, so he could take some sort of action against the culprit, but he was done with being blind and insensitive and hurting her in the process. “Okay. I won’t. Are you all right?”
She nodded and turned back toward him, her shoulders relaxing. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do about all this.”
Caleb finally did know.
Clearing his voice, he asked, very mildly, “Can I ask you one thing?” At her affirmative, he continued, “If sex was no longer a problem for you, would you be interested in a relationship with me? More than friendship, I mean.”
She searched his face and then surprised him by almost smiling. “Haven’t I always said that we should grow old together in a blissful platonic union?”
