Second(21)

“You’re doing just fine, Sabina,” he says, taking out a bottle of water and cracking it open.

“Well I’m glad someone thinks so,” I mumble, flashing him a smile and jumping up on the kitchen counter, watching him. “Travelling changes your perspective on things, I think. Having a house and a mortgage don’t seem as important as they did before.”

He swallows the water in his mouth then nods. “I agree. Really shows you how much there is to the world. Not everything has to be as you know it; you can learn new ways of life and see which way you want to live.”

He steps closer to me, his rock-hard stomach touching my knees. He takes a lock of my hair between his fingers and tugs gently. “I love the long hair, but this cut does really suit you.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling. When he’s about to move away I wrap my legs around him. “You were angry with me.”

Yeah, I didn’t visit him in the last year, which is a long time, but I don’t think he should be so angry about that. It wasn’t a rule that we’d catch up annually, and we made no promises. I’ve never even been to his house before, and neither had Ben. We’d only see Dean when he came to visit and for family events and holidays.

“I know,” he says, the intense look in his eyes making me want to break eye contact.

“Why?” I ask, softly. “I mean, I know why… but, really tell me why.”

“You lost the bet, I don’t owe you any brutally honest answers,” he says, eyes lowering to my lips. The whole thing is fucked up, because if he kissed me right now, I wouldn’t pull away. I know he wouldn’t do it, but still.

He’s Ben’s cousin.

I need to keep thinking of him as such.

I haven’t been with anyone since Ben, which leaves my number at a very sad-looking one, and I do miss sex. I went from having it whenever I wanted to not having it at all, but I haven’t met anyone I want to take that step with. It’s a big deal for me, sleeping with someone after only having been with my husband. What would it be like? What if it’s shit because there are no emotions involved, no love? What if I’m not very good in bed? Sure, I’ve been having sex for years, but with only one man, so I’m kind of tuned to everything Ben liked, and that’s it. I know things one way and one way only. I’ve never even seen another dick in real life. Oh, God. The thought of seeing a different one kind of gives me anxiety. I mean, if I’ve seen one have I seen them all? I highly doubt it. I always thought Ben had a nice-sized dick, but with nothing to compare it to I don’t know if he was big or small. Not that it matters; we had a good sex life, and he always left me satisfied. What if I can’t come for anyone else? I don’t think sex is meant to be this stressful.

“I don’t need to win a bet to want to hear the truth from you,” I say, boldly raising my hand and cupping his cheek. “I like the stubble.”

“Sabina,” he growls, gently pushing my hand away. He doesn’t move though. He stays where he is, my legs on each side of him, his face so close to mine that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes.

“Dean,” I say back, in a much softer tone. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he rumbles, dropping his eyes. “Why do you think I was so angry? You had every chance to come, you went all over the world, but you didn’t. Why?”

“I don’t know,” I say, licking my lips. It’s not exactly true, I kind of do know why, but I don’t know how to say it. I don’t even know if it’s true. I’m completely confused. I don’t want to say anything I’m thinking out loud because then it makes it real. And this? It cannot be real. It just can’t. It’s wrong. It’s… impossible. It’s me reaching for someone who is comfortable, and having him as a friend should be more than enough. It should be, right?

“Lie,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side and studying me. “You ask me to speak the truth then dare lie to my face?”

I purse my lips. “I was travelling to see new things, Dean. To meet new people and explore. To broaden my horizon and to deal with my grief in a different way. To figure out who the hell I am. And I needed to be alone for that. How would running to you help anything?”

He nods once, accepting that reply.

“I know you’d have been there for me, and have tried to help me, just like you did when you came here last year. But you couldn’t save me from this. I had to feel it, grieve it, and let it go. I couldn’t run to you to save me, I had to save myself. And I did. I saw, I learnt, I felt. I found myself again, the single version of me. I know the person I want to be. And you know what? I am fine. I’m strong. And I’m ready for my next adventure.”