Me, on the other hand, well, I may not be neurodiverse, but emotionally, I’m a goddamn shitshow. Dylan deserves a great relationship with another amazing person who loves him deeply with their whole heart. I’m not programmed for love. I don’t believe I’ve ever experienced it, so I don’t have the first clue how to love anyone else.
I shake my head, realizing I’ve been spacing out. Dylan doesn’t appear to have one iota of judgment or fear about my addiction. He’s curious, maybe surprised, but he doesn’t look like he wants to find the closest emergency exit. It’s so tempting to let myself want more with him.
“I’m really happy I told you too,” I say as we share a smile. I don’t tell him he nearly melted my heart when he said he was happy I told him. He heard me, both when I told him I felt special he had trusted me and when I shared my own vulnerable information with him. And that makes me go weak in the knees.
Just as I’m about to suggest watching a movie, the food arrives. I go to the door to get it while he gets plates and napkins for us. Once we’re back on the couch, I allow myself to relax. But just as I do, he freezes, turning to me with a puzzled expression on his face.
Wondering if he’s going to start pulling away from me like many others have, I steel myself.
“Um, you uh—you had a beer earlier. Is that… um… allowed?” he asks, his voice uneven. I get this question a lot when people know about my past and then see me have a drink.
“Yeah, I can drink. It’s not the same for everyone, although there are a lot of people who believe an addict should never touch anything like alcohol. But alcohol was never my drug of choice, so I can let myself have one or two drinks every now and again.” With a shrug and an awkward laugh, I add, “It’s all drug counselor approved. I never struggled with a drinking problem before, and I’m pretty cautious about it now.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Dylan says, going back to his pizza.
Again, I’m a little dumbstruck. He just accepted my explanation without any pushback. He didn’t make me justify my choices. He just… believes me and trusts that I know how to handle my issues. There are plenty of people who think the fact that you’re a recovering addict entitles them to offer advice.
Jesus, this man. Instead of reacting the way most others do, he keeps surprising me by getting better and better.
“So, how do you feel about a movie?” I ask after we’ve finished eating.
He glances at his watch before agreeing.
“Am I keeping you from something?” I tease. “Got a hot date lined up for later or something?”
He looks uncertain for a moment but relaxes when I direct a warm grin at him. “Maybe I do,” he says with a smirk. “Would that bother you?”
“To be honest, I think it actually would bother me,” I confess. “I know we barely know each other, and we’re not dating or anything, but if you were heading straight to another date right after this, I think I’d be a little jealous. I mean, not that I think we should be exclusive or anything. I mean—this isn’t—I would never—” I’m flustered, stammering and desperate to make sure he doesn’t think I’m going all stage five clinger on him.What in the hell am I doing? I don’t date!I scream at myself silently.Truth be told though, the thought of Dylan with another man makes me feel sick. It could never work between us, since I could never love him the way he deserves, but I’d like to pretend, just for a while.
Dylan guffaws loudly, and he sounds so funny I snort with laughter too. “That was me teasing you,” he says self-consciously. “I guess I pulled it off, huh?”
Our eyes meet, and his are twinkling with mirth.
Suddenly, the mood between us changes, the air thickening and almost crackling with the electricity between us. Having his full attention trained on me feels amazing. It’s like I’m standing in a patch of warm sunlight.
Sliding closer to him and ignoring the sharp twinge in my sore tailbone, I reach for his hand. I don’t want to push him, but I’m absolutely dying to kiss him. I can’t tell if he’s reading my signals, though, as he’s just beaming at me happily, like he’s quite pleased with himself over his little tease.
I’m smiling too as I whisper his name. “Dylan?”
He nods.
“Can I kiss you?”
A look of surprise crosses his face, but it’s replaced quickly by happiness, though he doesn’t reply.
Instead, he turns to me, reaching around to the nape of my neck and gently pulling me toward his mouth.
When our lips touch, there’s an actual shock of static electricity, and we both jump back in surprise. I cringe as my sore ass throbs with the sudden movement—and not in the good way—but then we both burst into laughter.
“Oh my god, is your butt okay?” he asks, trying to keep a straight face but still laughing.
“It’s fine. Just be gentle with me. I told you we had chemistry—just be careful since I don't want any unexpected shocks to other areas of my body." I shoot him a wink.
He replies with a snort. “I think that’s physics, not chemistry,DoctorMorrow.”
I throw back my head and laugh. “Okay then, maybe we shouldn’t say we have chemistry. We have physics!”
I surprise us both by leaning into him and pressing my lips firmly against his.