I felt him relax slightly through my tirade; then tense; then relax. His eyes were watchful. He leaned closer, dipping his head, as he asked, “Ok, first, what is a Wendell?”
“A Wendell is a guy-” I gestured to him, “in this situation you are the Wendell- a guy who is very… nice… looking and also very…” I couldn’t look at him so I picked a spot on my skirt and studied it, “very adept and/or talented in certain areas which are related to adult… bedroom activities and who also has a large selection of female companionship for the aforementioned adult bedroom activities from which to choose on any given occasion.”
My eyes flickered to his face and found him watching me with a confounded smile, obviously enjoying my discomfort. He cleared his throat, “Janie, just say it.”
I sighed and suddenly wanted to hold his hand, likely because I was pretty sure it would be the last time.
I entwined my fingers with his and squeezed. “Fine. Quinn-” I looked at him straight in the eye and immediately felt my resolve weaken, “a Wendell is a man who is extremely good looking and who is great in bed. Wendells do not have exclusive relationships- i.e. they do not date- but rather hook up with many women at once. I have no judgment for Wendells- in fact I applaud their stamina and ability to provide excellent service to so many women at once. It seems like a very efficient and generous use of resources. However,” I took a deep breath and swallowed, looking down at our fingers like a coward, “however equitable of an arrangement, I am not interested in non-dating a Wendell. Since you are, in fact, a Wendell I think that I would be more comfortable if you and I could agree to the label of friends, not kissing friends or Wendell-slamp friends… just regular friends.”
Again, silence stretched. I felt his gaze on me, heard him sigh, then ask, “Will you please look at me?”
I lifted my eyes to his. He didn’t look relieved or annoyed or angry like I feared. Rather, he looked contemplative and uneasy. He paused before speaking, what appeared to be a flash of pain passed behind his eyes but was either imagined or hidden instantly. “I’m not used to this… so you’ll have to give me a little bit of time to… adjust.”
“You can take as much time as you need.” I offered bravely, half-heartedly attempting to pull my fingers from his. The attempt was unsuccessful, he tightened his grip.
“I don’t want-” he sighed heavily, closed his eyes briefly, then met mine again with renewed composure, “I appreciate your honesty.”
I waited, chewed on my bottom lip; when he didn’t continue my eyes widened in confusion, “Wait, what- that’s it?”
He nodded, “Yes. That’s it.”
I drew in a breath, looking around the apartment for what I was missing, “I’m confused.”
“What confuses you?”
“Are we- did you- did you just agree to the label of friendship?”
“No.”
I opened my mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, licked my lips. “Then what label are we going to use?”
His gaze lowered to my mouth; he lifted the hand resting on my elbow to my hair and pushed a mass of curls over my shoulder, his long fingers lingering on my neck, “We aren’t going to use a label.”
I took an unsteady breath; at this point not caring about further embarrassing myself. What was one more minus of mortification when my debt reached in the hundreds of thousands?
“I like labels. I like maps with labels. I like figures with labels and footnotes. I don’t do well not knowing intentions or how to calibrate my expectations.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Quinn!”
He fought admirably against the smile pulling at his lips and didn’t meet my eyes, “You are so beautiful. I really want to kiss you right now.”
His words hit me in my stomach and caused a hot tsunami of awareness to spread to my fingertips, toes, and the tips of my ears. I sighed, “That’s not fair. You’re not being very nice.”
“I’ve told you, I’m not nice.” His gaze seemed to intensify, never leaving my lips, as he leaned infinitesimally closer.
I knew in that moment that if he wanted to kiss me I would not stop him but, damn it, I wasn’t going to sleep with him.
Undies on, undies on, undies on, high ho the dairy-o, I’m going to keep my undies on!
His hand gently cupped my cheek, his long fingers wrapped around my neck and pulled me forward. My eyelashes fluttered and, just before his mouth met mine I said, my words breathless, “You are nice. At least, you’re nice to me.”
He paused, lifted his eyes to mine, made a sound like a growl, then pressed his lips to my forehead. I smiled sadly, both relieved and disappointed.