Healer Chapter 6

I walked into the dining room and began to clean up the remnants of the potion. There had to be a way to help Nathan, if only because I admitted to myself that I wouldn’t mind having another make out session with him. We knew that he only has a problem when he’s around me, and by his willingness to use the potion, it was obvious that he was just as interested in making out as I was. I was positive that it was caused by magic. But as to how to fix it, I didn’t have a clue. I’d never been faced with a magical ailment and neither had my ancestors.

If it had been any other ailment I would have just taken the symptoms and let him heal himself, but that didn’t seem to be the answer. Nathan was barely aware of the problem, how could he force himself through it? I stared at the wall. Nothing came to me. I shook my head. Maybe Stephanie could shed some light on this. I gathered what was left of my supplies and took them upstairs. I needed to collect some more butterflies, but I’d worry about that later.

I took a long cold shower. I felt bruises beginning to form on my shoulder. Nathan had gotten a little too excited; there were even teeth marks. Funny, I didn’t remember feeling any pain while he’d been biting me. I stepped out of the tub and dried off. I put on a lose night gown and went to bed.

I woke up late the next morning to the phone ringing. I answered groggily, “Hello?”

“Scarlet,” I heard some sensual music playing in the background. “It’s Meg. I just wanted to thank you so much for the potion.” She giggled. “Jack, stop that!” she said playfully and giggled again. “Jack’s telling me to get off the phone. Thanks again,” she hung up.

I shook my head as I replaced the phone on the cradle. Meg share’s way too much. I lay back on the pillows. I had a long day ahead of me; I looked at the clock. And the day was about to begin. My first patient was going to be here in just under an hour. I rolled out of bed and dressed in a t-shirt with Toucan Sam on it and my favorite pair of jeans. I was in the middle of eating a bowl of cereal when my patient arrived, early as usual.

“Pamela, welcome,” I smiled as I opened the door. Pamela suffers from extreme depression and low self-esteem. She has a regular appointment with me every Tuesday morning and she always arrives twenty minutes early. We usually talk for an hour before I remove the symptoms of the depression and that in itself seems to do a lot. She meets with a real psychologist every Thursday. Her husband had long ago decided that she was crazy, but he was perfectly willing to pay for her treatments, since he couldn’t deal with her himself. From what she told me, he spent most of his time drunk with another woman. I wasn’t sure how much was truth and how much was her depression talking, but that wasn’t my problem. I just wanted her to leave feeling pretty good about herself. I’m good at that.

“Hi Scarlet.” She sniffed loudly. She’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, motioning for her to go into the bright drawing room. She sat on the couch.

“Oh, the same as always. Scott spent the night with his girlfriend and didn’t even bother to come home this morning. I don’t know why he even stays married to me if he really wants to stay with her all the time.” She cleared her throat and continued with her usual rant about how she can’t seem to do anything right when it comes to her marriage, that she just wasn’t pretty enough, wondering why she could never find the energy she once had, convinced that she was the reason why her husband strayed.

I try very hard not to complain about my patients, but an hour listening to Pamela is just as draining as taking on the actual depression she was feeling. I might be able to help people heal from illness, but I’m not a saint. After a while she began to wind down and apologized for the tirade.

“I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t go on like that; it’s just another thing I screw up.”

“It’s fine. I’m happy to listen.” A tiny white lie with a kind smile. “Are you ready for the treatment?” I asked her.

“Oh yes, go right ahead.” She settled into the chair and closed her eyes. I put my hand on hers and began to take away the depression, boosting her self-esteem in the process. One of the reasons why I’m able to listen to Pamela with so much patience is that I’ve felt the pain she lives with; the mental anguish. I felt my mood darkening, but saw the relief spread across Pamela’s face. She visibly relaxed, settling back against of the sofa.

“All done,” I said, plastering a fake smile on my face.

Pamela hopped up. “Thank-you so much!” She shook my hand violently, pumping it up and down.  If Pamela ever got over her depression, she would be a very boisterous woman all the time. She smiled ear to ear. “Here’s your check. I’m going to Opera Club, now. I’ll see you next week.” Did I mention that Pamela is an opera singer? Her club meets every Tuesday to sing and act and that’s why she schedules today for her session. I seem to do a better job at cheering her up enough to go to the club than her real psychiatrist. Don’t worry, the treatment I give her lasts a few days, so her husband does get to enjoy some time with her while she’s happy, but her opera buddies definitely see the best side of her. I walked her to the door and told her that I hoped she had fun at the club meeting.

I went into the den and put There’s Something about Mary into the DVD player. It wasn't nearly as funny as it could have been, but then that’s a general side-effect of depression. The movie ended and I was still a long way from feeling my best. I only charge Pamela for 3 hours worth of recovery, but I really give her twice that amount. After her first session I realized just how lousy she feels on a regular day and decided to ‘double the dose’ so to speak, but I couldn’t charge her more. It just wouldn’t feel right. For all this magic relies on the conservation of mass in that I must give of myself when I take from others, the cumulative effects are almost exponential. Ten minutes of work from me leaves a person with days or even weeks of relief, depending on what the ailment is and I only have to recover for a couple hours. Pamela gets about five days of real happiness while I get seven hours of pure mental anguish. Of course, recovery time is definitely dependent on the healer. Some of my ancestors took a full 24 hours to recover from a healing, but I suspect that that often was because they used inefficient methods.

I had no energy to put in another DVD after Mary ended, so I flipped through the channels looking for anything that caught my limited amount of interest. Titanic was on, and stupidly I decided to watch it. By the end, I was sobbing uncontrollably and was quite a mess. I still had a good hour before my spirits returned to normal, but unfortunately I heard a knock at my front door.

I mopped my face up and tried to put on a happy expression before I opened the door. One glance into the mirror showed me that I would just frighten small children and dogs, so I dropped the smile and went with a sullen expression.

Nathan was outside. I checked my watch. It was only 4pm, he should have still been on duty. “Hey. I was in the neighborhood and I wanted to tell you that I called my Gran this morning. She said that we could stop by her house this evening if we wanted to talk about…stuff. Are you okay?”

“Never better.” My voice cracked and I thought I was going to weep at the idea of this man’s devotion to his grandmother. Not that that line of thinking made any sense at all. I wiped my nose. “Sorry. My client was depressed this morning. I’m still working through the emotions. I watched Titanic because I’m a genius and that really made me feel chipper.” I tried to laugh but it really just came out as a whimper.

“Come on. I can only stay for a minute, but you need a strong cup of coffee.”

“Tea. I don’t drink coffee.”

“Whatever—you need something in you.” Nathan put his hand on my back and steered me towards the kitchen.

“I’ll be fine in a little while,” I promised. But at the same time I was feeling very warm and fuzzy thoughts about this man who now showed so much concern for me. I shook my head. I wasn’t sure how I’d crossed my wires with the depression and low self-esteem, but I was feeling less lethargic and more a weepy mess. I think that I’m doomed to always be leaking when I’m around Nathan.

After I drank the cup of tea and ate some chocolate chips Nathan had found in my pantry, I was feeling much better. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to having company after a session with a client…especially this particular client. I’ve never really reacted this way before.” To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement.

“It’s fine. I need to go, but I’ll pick you up at six if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Yeah. I’ll be back to normal by then. See you.” I didn’t walk him out.

---

I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the house. I folded the clothes that I’d washed the day before. I set aside the dress in case Natalie wanted it back. By six I was back to normal emotionally and marveled at the roller coaster ride I’d just been on. I’d thought I’d done a simple switch of depression for happiness, but somehow I’d picked up some sentimentality—I’ve never been one to cry when I’m happy or when I find something to be especially sweet, but there I had been blubbering about Nathan calling his grandmother to arrange a meeting that we’d discussed as necessary the night before. I shook my head. I didn’t know much about psychiatry and emotional illnesses, so I suspected that my lack of knowledge in this field was the problem. Since up until last Saturday I hadn’t really had anyone to share my recovery time with, I’d never noticed the extent of the emotions I’d felt after helping Pamela. I probably wouldn’t find much help in my bible of medical fixes because emotional illnesses were definitely a modern disease. My great, great grandmother Margaret’s husband had come back from World War One with what they called “shell shock”, modernly known as post-traumatic shock disorder, and he refused to let her help him through his feelings. The treatment back then was to ignore it, for all the good that did. After the war, their marriage hadn’t been a happy one, hence the reason Elizabeth ran off to New York.

I answered the knock at my door quickly enough. Nathan hadn’t changed out of his uniform, but the top button of his shirt was un-done.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, much better. Tuesday’s are not my best days, but that’s my life.” I smiled, genuinely so he could see that I wasn’t trying to hide some dour thoughts.

“You did have me worried, but since your better now, we should get going.” I grabbed my purse and locked the door while he unlocked the passenger door of his patrol car.

“Umm…do you mind if we take my car?” I asked him. “I’d just rather not ride in a cop car if I can help it.”

“What?” He looked at his car. “Oh, good point.” He re-locked the doors on his car and we got into my Ford. He gave me the directions to his grandmother’s house and I was relieved to learn that it wasn’t within Rev. Brown’s compound. Okay, it’s not really a compound, but it’s an expensive gated community that many of his followers live within. I’m not welcome there for obvious reasons.

The drive was actually awkwardly silent. Given how easily we’d flirted with each other for the past three days I was surprised at the almost cold shoulder Nathan was giving me. But I guess it’s not every day that you find out that magic is interfering with your love life.

“What are you thinking about?” I finally asked him.

“Hmm? Oh. Just stuff, I guess.” He didn’t want to comment further, which I found annoying.

“My limited mind reading capabilities told me that much. Come on, either tell me what it is or I start supplying various possibilities with increasing levels of embarrassment.”

He looked over at me then turned back to look out his own window. “How the hell can I have sex with you if I turn into a zombie whenever I get aroused?” he blurted.

I’m not sure how I kept the car in the middle of the road when he made that pronouncement, but I definitely stopped breathing for a minute or two. “Uhhh…” I stammered. “Well, that was definitely the possibility at the top of my embarrassment meter.”

He grimaced. “Sorry. I’m not usually that up-front with a girl I want to sleep with. Wait, that sounds terrible.” He shook his head. “I suck at this. This...problem,” he gestured angrily at his crotch, “is totally screwing up my life!”

“I’m sorry.” I really meant it. “If I could fix it I would—I’ve never faced a problem I couldn’t at least do something for, but right now I’m completely at a loss.”

“Yeah.” We rode in silence for the rest of the way. I was still reeling from his admission that he wanted to sleep with me. I’d never been “Miss Popular” in this town, no matter that everyone knew my name and my story. I’d never had a boyfriend or even anyone who’d really been remotely interested in me; well, except for a creep from the next town over who wanted to catch me doing something freaky so he could make money off of it. He’d tried to date me, but it’d become obvious very quickly that he didn’t have any interest in me for my sake. I’d given him a frightful scare to keep him away, but he was the reason why there is a powerful enchantment on my house: he hadn’t taken my rejection very well.

His grandmother’s house was, for lack of a better word, cute. It was small and square with lots of detailed scrollwork around the eves. It looked like it could have passed for the gingerbread house in the story of Hansel and Gretel, though I was confident that Stephanie would not be anything like the witch in that story; too many of her relatives would better fit that description.

Nathan knocked lightly before opening her front door and leading me inside. The inside of her house was warm and inviting, not at all like I would have pictured from the mother of the current Rev. Brown and wife of the former Rev. Brown.

“Gran? It’s Nathan,” he called into the house.

“I’m in the kitchen,” a kindly voice called and a pleasantly plump lady of about eighty-five years peaked her head out the door to look at us. “Oh, she’s cute.”

I blushed and slowly followed him into the kitchen, trying to will away the color from my cheeks. Funny that it never works for me.

“You’re just in time for supper. I made meatloaf, if that’s okay.”

“I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” I smiled at her and watched as Nathan made himself a plate. Gran Stephanie insisted that I fill mine before her, which made me feel awkward, but since Nathan seemed used to it, I guess that’s how his family is.

I took my plate into the dining room and Nathan asked me what I wanted to drink. I told him juice if there was any. I stayed standing, unsure of what was expected of me. I’ve never eaten at someone else’s house before.

“Sit, sit, girlie. We don’t bite…much,” she said, laughing. I couldn’t help but think about the bite marks I’d found on my shoulder the night before. I hoped that the blush that reemerged on my face was blamed on my lack of knowledge about how to eat at another’s house. Nathan came out an joined us at the table, bringing our drinks with him. I looked around the room; this was obviously the most important room in this house. One wall was covered in photos of various family members, including, I noted, a few of Nathan at various ages. He’d been a gawky kid.

“It took me awhile to grow into my height,” Nathan told me when he saw where I was looking. I laughed and relaxed somewhat.

“So, what brings you to visit me?” Mrs. Brown asked. I shot a look at Nathan; didn’t he tell his grandmother who I was and why I was there?

Mrs. Brown caught the look. “Oh, Scarlet, I didn’t mean it that way,” she said kindly. My heartbeat slowed down some. “He told me that you wanted to talk about your great-grandmother, but he wasn’t very specific. We, as a family, don’t talk about your family openly, as you probably guess. Many spit on the floor three times or toss salt over their shoulder at the merest mention. Those of us who don’t think unkindly of you still prefer to remain vague when we talk. It’s a force of habit, I guess.”

“I see. Well, we were curious about what you and my great-grandmother thought about the origins of our families…uh, magically speaking. And whether you have any thoughts about whether the Browns do have some kind of magical talent.” I took a bite of the meatloaf and it was heavenly. I wasn’t sure if it was the taste, the fact that I didn’t have to make it myself, or the fact that I wouldn’t be stuck eating it for the next week, but it was the best meal I’d eaten in a long time, and I told Mrs. Brown that.

“We’ll talk about your serious questions after dinner, but now let’s chat. I don’t see my grandson often enough. How’s life?” Mrs. Brown gave Nathan such a serious glance that he didn’t even have a choice at being noncommittal at such a vague question. He told her about his past week, though he tactfully left me mostly out of it, I guess so that I could choose what I wanted to add. He did tell her how we’d met while he was doing the dirty work of Rev. Brown’s crew and how we’d started chatting friendly-like. No need to mention disgusting puddles of goo or nearly ripping each other’s clothes off because of the fumes of a love potion. He did tell some interesting stories about a couple of drunks he’d dealt with earlier in the week while he was running squad. He filled me in that he volunteers for the Wednesday night crew and also works one Saturday a month.

“And how have you been?” Mrs. Brown fixed her eyes on me.

I squirmed, not used to people actually caring what I have to say, nor caring about how I spend my off time. “Oh, umm…just work, I guess. And I watched a bunch of movies, read a few books. And I worked in my garden some. I guess I’m not a very interesting person.”

“On the contrary dear, I think you’re a very interesting person. You just don’t like to talk about the most interesting things, which is fine.” She smiled at me and patted my hand.

“Yeah, it normally weirds people out and I can’t really say too much because I don’t want to risk my client’s anonymity.” I smiled back at her.

“If you’re finished we can leave Nathan to wash the dishes and the two of us can go chat in the living room.” I nodded and followed Mrs. Brown and sat next to her on the sofa in the other room. Now I understood why he’d been so comfortable doing the dishes at my house.

“Now that he’s busy, we can talk about him without him overhearing us.” I gulped. “So, you think he’s handsome don’t you?” She peered at me with silvery eyes. I nodded. “Tell me why you both so suddenly have the desire to crack this mystery,” she took my hand gently.

I cleared my throat. “Umm…we found out something…awkward. That affects whatever we might…want to do with each other.” I blushed and stared a hole into the floor. I’d never talked about such things with anyone—my mom hadn’t really been the type, especially at the end.

“I realize that we talked before about how my family is vague about you, but honey, that tells me nothing.”

“Oh please don’t make me talk about this. Sorry, but I’m not comfortable talking about…it.” I was trying very hard to keep the hole I’d been putting in the floor from becoming real and letting it swallow me up. Magic sucks when you’re trying to be normal.

Mrs. Brown put her arms around me and hugged me tight. “Girlie, are you trying to say that you two are having bedroom troubles?” she whispered into my ear.

I nodded into her shoulder, “essentially, but not that we’ve actually done anything,” I said quickly, still into her shoulder. I couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “It’s just a… requirement that we’ve noticed doesn’t…work properly.”

“I see. And you think that the Browns have some kind of magic that’s causing the problem?”

“Yes.” I took a deep breath and let go of Mrs. Brown. “Sorry for wigging out just now. I just don’t have anyone to talk about that stuff with—never really have. I guess I thought we could find out what we need without that aspect being revealed—or that Nathan had already told you.”

“Well, he’s never talked about that aspect of his life with his old grandmother—what man does? Ah, here he is.”

Nathan walked slowly into the room as though afraid we were going to turn on him. “Have I missed something?” he asked wearily.

“Not too much. We just established the heart of the problem you two want to solve.” I was back to staring at the floor.

“Uhh…yeah. Anyway. What kind of information can you give us?” He slumped into the recliner in the corner.

“Well, Elizabeth was convinced that the reason why the Browns hold so much power in this town is because they have some kind of magic that keeps people from even wanting to oppose them, no matter how much everyone else actually likes you. She supposed that it would be possible to break the hold that the Browns have if she put enough effort into gaining their respect. Given that she didn’t go about that in the best way, I can’t be sure how right or wrong her assumptions were. I mean, she got me sent away to my aunt’s home and was lucky that nothing else happened to her—my parents were not happy that she took such an interest in me. But her parents weren’t exactly stable either, which is why she ran off to New York. But that’s beside the point. Once Liz put the idea into my head, I started playing around with the idea that we Browns have some kind of magic. And I’ve concluded that we do have a bit of power. It’s very subtle and mood related, so I’m confident saying that I think it does have some power over your…problem.” Mrs. Brown smiled at Nathan. He blushed. “Nobody in our family has ever been interested in someone of yours before,” she said to me, “so I can’t say whether you, Nathan, are the first to experience the problem.” She turned back to him. “But from what I’ve been able to do, the way to alter the magic is to somehow break the emotional bond that forms it. I can’t tell you whether it’s an individual specific spell, for lack of a better term, or if it’s the community’s wish to keep such relationships from happening. To break the enchantment you’re going to have to somehow woo the favor of those who control it.”

“What have you been able to do with the magic you’ve discovered?” I asked.

“Oh, just little things. I successfully blocked a television station a couple years ago.”

“What?!?” I was shocked.

“No, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was only blocked on televisions that I was within about 50 feet of, nothing more widespread. I’d just decided that I did not like watching sports, so I focused all my will on ESPN not working. It took about six months, but I was able to foil all the men’s attempts to watch football during Sunday dinner.”

“That’s…impressive. What else have you done?”

“I scared cows away from me back when I was a kid. They terrified me so I created an invisible wall that they could not cross. I also was able to hex this guy in my high school.”

“Hex?” Nathan sounded worried at that particular term.

“Well, not so much a hex, but he had a crush on me and I didn’t reciprocate, so I made him get the hives whenever he got too flirty with me.” Mrs. Brown looked thoughtful at that one. I suspect that she was quite excited to learn that she had some magical talent. “’Course, my magic is so spread thin that I can’t sustain more than one item at a time.”

“That hex you used sounds a little like my problem,” Nathan surmised. “But what are the odds that someone in our family is using such a specific spell against me?”

Mrs. Brown looked at Nathan. “Everyone likes you, so I’d say it’s slim to none. Unless someone really is worried that you’re dealing with someone you shouldn’t. I might put out some feelers to see if anyone has taken a particular interest in your romantic interests, if you want.”

“Well, I don’t want someone to suddenly take an interest if they didn’t have one before, so I think we should limit the amount of references to it outside of this room.” Nathan looked abashed, and rightly so. I mean, we’d just met a couple days ago and we were already talking like we were going to be an item.

Nathan checked his watch. “It’s getting late. We should go.” He stood up and kissed his grandmother’s cheek. I thanked Mrs. Brown for her help before following him out to the car.

The drive back to my house was considerably less awkward than the drive out.

“Well, you’ve seen me covered in my own vomit and feces. I don’t see why we’re suddenly scared of telling each other intimate secrets—I mean, there’s not much worse a person can get.” I smiled at him and he laughed.

“I just feel like we’re doing this thing backwards or something. Moving too fast.”

“Not possible.” I said deadpan. “When you move too fast you slow right down.”

That got a good roar of laughter out of Nathan. “You’re right about that one.” He sighed. “I like you and you know that.” I nodded. “And I guess you like me?”

I nodded again.

“And our mutual desire to rip each other’s clothes off last night wasn’t purely caused by the potion?”

“That potion should have made us feel sick. It’s not meant for use by complete strangers looking for a good time. I mean, I’ve never had company when I’ve made it, but I know that strangers can’t drink it and expect the same results as two people with a known relationship with each other. I assume the same would be true of two strangers smelling the fumes.”

“So it’s pretty certain that there’s more between us than just friendship?”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s true.” I was glad the car was dark. I was certain that I was blushing once again and I was able to get a bit of courage from the darkness since Nathan couldn’t see my face.

“Good.” Nathan let out a breath. I guess he was worried that the feelings were one sided. “So…now what do we do?”

“Umm…no idea. Well, I know what we can do about your family—try to get me on their good side. But as to the other thing, I have no experience.” I wondered if he understood just how little experience I have.

“So, no crazy ex-boyfriends in your past?”

“Well, when you put it that way, yes, there is one crazy guy, but he shouldn’t be much of a problem. I scared him off much the same way I scared you during our first, or I guess it was second, meeting. Only I didn’t take away the panic attack and left him blubbering on the side of the road.”

“Umm…please tell me that he was crazy before you left him blubbering.”

“He was. Quit thinking that I’m some loony woman who enjoys tormenting the normal people! He was trying to use me for some kind of monetary gain and I wasn’t going to have it. When he wouldn’t leave me along peaceably, I used my talents to convince him to. Now, are there any crazy exes in your past?”

“None crazy, but I guess you could count four serious exes in total.”

 “Mmm” There’s not much I could say to that.

Nathan was quiet for a little while. “I like you, you like me, and I can’t kiss you for fear of going catatonic.”

“That just about sums it up.”

“The world hates us.”

“That’s my line. The world hates me and you’re just unfortunate enough to come along for the ride.” I smiled. “You know, it is possible to date other girls. Ones who carry around less baggage. We were both perfectly fine before you decided to charge me with fraud.”

“I don’t think you were better off.”

“Aww come on. I was great not having to worry about what I was wearing, what I was eating, whether or not I was covered in crap.”

“Scarlet, you weren’t invisible. I didn’t just start noticing you three days ago. I’ve had a crush on you since high school. I was a senior and you were a freshman. And I was such a dumbass, I didn’t have the courage to talk to you.”

“You had a crush on me?” I was flattered.

“Hell yes. You were…are cute and definitely mysterious. Everything a horny 17 year old boy wants.”

“I bet you weren’t very horny,” I said cheerfully.

“I’ll give you that one.” He said, chuckling.

“So, which one were you in high school? I don’t pretend to remember much about that time in my life.”

“Yeah, I guess it was a terrible time for you. I was on the football team, pretty popular, I guess. I was dating Shelia Andrews.”

“Captain of the cheerleader squad?” I tried to remember back. “Oh, you were voted homecoming king, right?”

“Right. So you do remember some stuff?”

“I remember being told that I didn’t belong in that school, sometimes by teachers. I remember almost flunking calculus my senior year because the teacher didn’t want me to be an honor graduate. I remember getting beat up sophomore year just because everyone knew that I had nobody to stand up to the principal for me…” my voice cracked, “not even a parent.” My mom died shortly after my 16^th birthday.

Nathan reached over and rubbed my shoulder. I was glad we were nearly to my house. “Sorry. I should have known better than to bring that up.”

I shrugged. “You wouldn’t have known. You went off to college after my freshman year. It’s not like I advertised the misery. There were plenty of people who would at least ignore me tactfully, even if they weren’t able to stand up for me completely.” We pulled into my driveway, but didn’t bother to get out.

Nathan pulled me into a hug and I enjoyed being comforted, even if it was awkwardly done in the front seat of a small car. I didn’t cry. I’d cried too much over this issue.

“Do you want to come inside?” I finally asked him.

“Yes!…no…yes?” Nathan looked at his patrol car and his watch, but I knew that he really wanted to stay with me.

“Go. I’ll be fine. Dinner is at 6:30. Oh, you have squad tomorrow don’t you?”

“Yeah, I won’t be free until Thursday night.”

“That’s fine. Come over if you want. I’ll probably be serving leftovers, but there might be something new for you.”

“Sounds good.” And he very carefully kissed me on the lips. I could tell that he was trying to keep it chaste, not even pretending to use his tongue. It was incredibly sweet, even though it was utterly necessary. Our lips barely moved against each others for fear that it would become too sexual, instead pressing them hard together to express pleasure at the shared kiss. He broke it off way too soon, but before we needed to worry about it going too far.

“Not enough,” he groaned, but I guess some well imagined images of drowning puppies or a garbage dump (I hoped to God that he wasn’t picturing me covered in crap) kept him grounded. He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes. For two people who couldn’t even reach first base why did it feel like we were moving too fast?

I decided that I should be the one to end the stalemate where neither of us wanted to leave the little bubble that the car formed around us. I unbuckled my seat belt and exited the car. Nathan followed suite, but we’d silently agreed to not make things worse. He got into his patrol car and left, I went into my home and took a cold shower. What hurt the most was that it was only a matter of time before he would grow tired of not being satisfied and would find someone else. It took a lot of self-restraint for me to not bang my head against the wall of the shower.