I remembered Jim, sitting in my apartment, confessing his love for me, and I knew for certain then how I felt about Shane. It was nothing like the way Jim felt for me. It wasn’t the kind of aching need that could be forgotten or ignored, or even missed. It was a burning, powerful thing, and like all powerful things, it was mindless and blameless. It came from somewhere else and took me directly to Shane and his body. There was nothing left but to submit to its whims. I wanted to be a part of him, not of his life, but of his existence.
“I need to tell you something,” I said, unsure of myself.
Shane was chopping a purple onion with smooth, practiced strokes, his left hand guiding the knife. “What’s up?”
I let out a sigh. “Jim came to my apartment earlier.”
He paused and looked up. “Your old manager, Jim?”
“My old friend, Jim. Yeah.”
He put his knife down and I felt his attention palpably shift focus from making me food to listening to my words. It was like a spotlight running over a field to illuminate a new thing.
“How’s he doing?”
“He told me he loves me.”
Shane didn’t respond at first. I could tell he was wrestling with something, but I had no idea what. After a short silence, he said, “And what did you say?”
“I let him down as gently as I could. What else could I say?”
Relief spilled over his face, which confused me.
“Wait, what were you just thinking?” I asked.
“I’m older than you are,” he said softly. “Our life together is difficult. Living a secret takes a toll on a person. And I understand you knew him before me, before my company bought your app. You told me he was around for you back then. I thought you maybe needed something easier, with someone more your age.”
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. Shane Green was uncertain of how I felt?
“I don’t want anyone but you, Shane. I don’t want something easier.”
His smile seemed sad. “I’m glad you feel that way. But I would understand if you didn’t.”
“I can’t believe you’d think for a second I’d want to be with Jim over you!”
“People make bad choices all the time,” he joked. The sadness softened and disappeared.
“Yeah, and maybe I’m making one now. Maybe I’ll have to withhold sex from you as a punishment for not believing in me.”
His face dropped into mock horror. “Withhold sex from me? That’s cruel and unusual.”
“I don’t know, the punishment fits the crime.”
“That doesn’t even make sense,” he said, laughing. He shifted back to the food, and resumed chopping.
“Sure it does. At least I think it does, which is all that matters.”
He laughed again, and whatever weight was leftover in my body from Jim’s admission earlier was completely gone. There was only Shane, and his intense focus, bringing me back into the world.
20.
We spent the rest of the week that way, in a slow rhythm of ups and downs. We got to know every inch of each other’s body. He continued to stay away from his family life, but he did tell me about his early days at the University of Pennsylvania, how he went on an academic scholarship and never looked back. He talked about how he founded Adstringo one day in his dorm room, when he came up with an advanced advertisement algorithm before anybody else was thinking about ad placement. He talked about growing his company, but still retaining strict control, and how they pivoted in more recent years into a multi-national media conglomerate.
Late in the day Sunday, one week of pleasure and bliss later, we killed our last hours together, draped across each other’s body on the sofa in his room. We had just finished a particularly intense session, and his shirtless chest was covered in sweat and his muscles rippled with each deep breath. We relaxed into each other’s arms, and I felt safe and content. I knew that I had to go back to work on Monday. It was already weird that a brand new employee was allowed a week’s worth of vacation days. I didn’t want to think about that, about the week ending, and instead concentrated on his body wrapped around mine.
“Tell me something,” I said.
“Hmm?” He looked down at me. I rested my head in his lap, and my legs dangled over the other end of the couch.
“Did you have many other girlfriends before me?”
He laughed. “You don’t want to talk about that.”
“Sure I do. I want to know everything about you.”
“You’ll just get jealous.” He shook his head and grinned.
“Oh will I? So it’s that many, huh?”
His grin grew larger. “Let’s just say, it’s less than two thousand.”