“Christ.” My hands are balled up in tight fists, and I know my nostrils are flaring. “I want to fly to Seattle right now and beat the shit out of this guy.”
“I’ve been working on it in therapy for a long time. I haven’t actually tested any of it or put it into practice for uh…” Lindy’s cheeks go scarlet. “Well, for a good long while. A few years at least. But maybe I’ve come further than I thought because I didn’t feel any of it when I was with you. It was just you and me and what we were doing. It was…my god, that orgasm was…wow. It was…it was like finding a magical universe of cotton candy and cats riding on llamas for real.”
I don’t know if she’s trying to make light of what happened to her, but I don’t want her to have to feel like she has to do that. Like she can’t be herself. I do believe her, and I still want to find the fucker and pound him into the ground. I also want to rage at Lindy’s sister for leaving her behind mentally and emotionally when she needed her the most.
“I can see that you’re angry,” she whispers. “That’s not what I wanted. I can fight my own battles. These are my demons, and it’s ugly, disgusting, and all of that, but now I’m embarrassed, and I feel weird because I’ve only known you for one day, yet here I am, telling you all the bad shit that happened to me when I never tell anyone for so many reasons. And uh, god, this is just…”
“Wrong? Were you going to say it’s wrong?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Does it feel wrong? Or is it uncomfortable and hard?”
“I…” Her lips wobble, and I know this isn’t the right time to kiss her, but god, I want to kiss her so badly. I want to make this better, and I want to do anything I can to protect her and show her that she’s not the one to blame, that she’s not wrong in any way. “Just uncomfortable. You’re right. It doesn’t feel wrong, just hard. Really hard.”
I want to protect her, tell her that I’m astounded by her strength, and show her I support her. I want to…good lord, I realize all of this is coming just a day after we met, and feelings this strong are pretty irrational, especially for me, a person who has made a living out of not feeling anything. I’m suddenly embracing this curse thing, believing in soulmates, and wanting to get to know Lindy, not just as my fellow cursed mate, but because she’s her. She’s had a lifetime of experience, and she grew up too soon, too early. I want to let her be a kid again, to help her discover the good things and wonders in this world. I want to hold her hand when she needs a hand and let her stand strong when she wants to be strong for herself. I want to show her every day that she’s amazing.
And I know I can’t tell her any of it because I don’t understand how I can think and feel these things myself. It’s more than lust, it’s more than what we just did, and it’s more than the curse. In the past, I never wanted anything with anyone. A lifetime of possibilities, open doors, open arms, and running fearlessly forward? I never wanted to do any of that. I’ve always shut beginnings down because they meant things I wasn’t ready to face.
Maybe I need some therapy too.
Or this could be the curse getting to me.
Perhaps this is just meeting the right person at the right time and getting my head on straight enough to realize that all these feelings might not be legit. They might be floundering and small, overprotective, too strong, not smart, too smart, or a lot of one thing and not enough of another, but maybe it’s okay to actually feel. This could be my dam busting open and everything flooding in at once. It’s pretty darn powerful, and I know I’m going to put the damper on right away, but I can’t help it.
“I want this to be a start, and I want to see Lindy again tomorrow. And the next day. I want to take her out on dates—real dates—make her smile, and discover new flavors of cotton candy with her. I would even like to get to know her cats and talk about techy stuff and books with her. Also, about her past, if she’s comfortable, and my past, which I’ve never been comfortable discussing with anyone. Basically, I’d like to talk deep stuff or even just the mundane.
Anything.
Everything.
I’d seriously like to be friends with her because she’s fascinating, and she’s got mad skills. And once she’s comfortable, she could probably discuss anything. She’s lived this life I can’t even begin to imagine, and I’d like to listen. I’d also like to tell her about the parts of me that are still wounded, hurt, and confused, even decades after my dad left us. Besides that, I’d very much like to take her to things with my crazy family and let her be a part of it.