He didn’t want to delve too deeply into why that might be; he already had enough shit in his brain right now he needed to delve into and figure out.
Well, whatever. They were standing on the mat in his home gym, already having a session. The last exit was behind them. So he smiled and said, “Okay. I’m going to step behind you”—he did so as he spoke—“and grab you like I mean to hurt you—but I won’t hurt you, okay?”
Yet another shudder went through her, shoulders to feet. “Okay,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Okay. Like last time, do what you instinctively would do if someone did grab you.”
She nodded—but when he started to put his arms around her, she jumped and scurried a few steps away.
“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said for what felt like the hundredth time today.
Turning back to him, she crossed her arms over her chest. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment. “I know. I’m sorry. I just ... I’m sorry.”
“You want to stop?” Probably for the best.
She shook her head. “I don’t. I’m just ...” she sighed roughly. “Tense. I’m always tense.”
A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it, but she didn’t seem offended, so he added, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“I do trust you not to hurt me.”
“I’m glad. That means something.”
Her head tilted to the side a little, like she wanted to ask him what it meant, but she didn’t. Good. He didn’t want to think about what it meant, anyway.
You’re into her, pendejo, some asshole in his head whispered.That’s what it means. You want her to trust you because you want to get closer.
He told that asshole to fuck off. Maybe he was into her, but the list of reasons that would be an extremely bad idea would stretch most of the way back to Tulsa.
“You want to try again?” he asked.
She nodded and stepped close again, turning to put her back to him.
This time, he didn’t warn her he was coming in. He grabbed her around the shoulders, clasping his arms across her chest.
Her hands came up at once and clutched at his forearms, trying to drag them apart. He squeezed harder and lifted her off the floor.
“Stop! Stop!” she cried, with real panic in her voice.
Immediately, Cooper set her down and let her go. She trotted away, all the way to the corner, then turned to face him again, her arms clamped protectively over her chest again.
He was about to say, yet again, that he wouldn’t hurt her, that she was safe, when something occurred to him that put her anxiety into context and perspective.
“Somebody’s grabbed you like that. To hurt you,” he said.
With obvious reluctance, she nodded.
Before Cooper could figure out what to say in response, she offered, “He didn’t end up hurting me. It was a year or so ago, I guess. I was going to my car after work, and he grabbed me like that, and started dragging me, but ...” She stopped, looked away, was quiet for a second, then, “But I was dressed in my uniform, and my breastplate, the one I wear when I have to show cleavage, shifted. When he saw the tits were fake, he dropped me and ran off.”
“Fuck,” Cooper said, for lack of anything worthwhile to say.
She laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. I was obviously relieved, but it was also ... stupidly insulting.” Another awkward half-laugh. “Well, you know. Silver lining, I guess. Not appealing to wannabe rapists. Or anybody else.”
Cooper considered saying something about rape not being about attraction, but wisely decided it wasn’t something he had any right to say to Siena or any woman; surely she knew more on the subject than he possibly could. It wasn’t the point of her story, anyway.
He realized then that he’d had his arms across her chest and hadn’t even noticed that she didn’t have boobs. They were the first thing he noticed on all women, even if they weren’t grown women quite yet. He’d noticed Siena’s ‘work’ tits first thing as well—and he’d noticed when they’d been missing. But when he’d actually been holding her chest, he hadn’t noticed.
It probably could be argued that that meant he wasn’t thinking of her as a woman, but it wasn’t remotely true. He’d been thinking of her plenty, especially in the past day or so—and very much as a woman.