His Nasty Virgin

JESSE

It was a herculean task not to touch her. I wouldn’t allow myself to because touching her was a slippery slope. I told myself these boundaries were in place for both our sakes. I couldn’t cave now, no matter how much I missed her.

I tried to use work to distract myself, finally putting my home office to good use. It was my little fortress, a place where I could zone out and manage the firm without constantly thinking about Vivian’s plump lips or the sound of her cute giggle, or how I went feral for her in those stupid pink shorts of hers.

God, I missed her in her stupid pink shorts.

But not just that. I missed her smile. Those three little freckles on her eyelid were only visible close-ups. The way she fit in my arms so easily. Everything.

The last two weeks had been torture. Worse than that.

She was near. Only a couple of rooms away. Yet she was so impossibly far because I deliberately placed her there for her good. I gave her space and respected her privacy. Made sure she had enough food and entertainment and whatever else she might need for a comfortable stay.

Even though I wanted to give her so much more.

For the first couple of days, I wandered out of the office late at night to find her in the living room, watching episodes of Jeopardy. She was good at it. Not so much with the history trivia, but everything else. I wanted to tell her she’d make a killing if she ever got to play on the show for real, but I stopped myself. I didn’t trust myself not to ascend into more flirtatious banter.

Best if I kept out of her way.

After the first week, I turned up the penthouse’s main thermostat. Vivian never complained about it out loud, but I could tell she was cold, always shivering and teeth chattering. She bundled up in a sweater and sweatpants, though oddly enough never wore socks despite it being the smart and easiest thing to do to warm up. She was stubborn like that. I liked that about her, even if it was silly.

I gave her a phone number to call if she wanted food delivered. She ordered pretty much every night, opting to skip both breakfast and lunch instead of a snack around 5:00 p. m. and then a massive dinner around 8:00 p. m. Like clockwork. If I weren’t so dead set on giving her space, I would have told her that having equally spaced-out meals and portions was better for her health, but I didn’t want to overstep.

One thing I did notice was that she ordered tuna casserole from this Italian restaurant down the way frequently. Always with extra cheese and a bottle of Diet Coke. It must have been delicious because she could clear the whole dish by herself without any leftovers. For what it was worth, it smelled great. I wanted to ask her for a bite, just to try it but decided against it. She loved it, and I didn’t want to take away from her favorite meal.

On Monday morning, I got the call. Melissa’s name popped up on the screen. I nearly threw my phone out over the balcony.

“Now’s not a good time,” I grumbled into the receiver.

“When is it ever?” my ex-wife scoffed.

“If you’re calling because you want more money-”

“I’m calling because of Wally.”

The muscles in my neck tensed. “What about him?”

“He called me the other day and told me all about your argument. Why won’t you let our son do what he wants?”

I laughed bitterly. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s always been like this. You always play the good cop and make me out to be the bad guy.”

“You are the bad guy, Jesse. Our son is out there fucking couch surfing because you’re too stubborn to let him live his own life!”

My blood boiled. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me, Melissa? You don’t get to patronize me after you ran off with the fucking dog walker. I was the only one providing structure in his life. I was the only one being a parent.”

“Not a very good one.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“You’re pushing your son away over something stupid, Jesse. You’re pushing him away, and one day, Wally’s never going to come back. Is that really what you want?”

I ended the call, but not before the sting of her words stabbed me straight through the heart. Of course that wasn’t what I wanted. Wally was my son. My boy. I loved him with every fiber of my being. But as much as I hated to admit it, what Melissa was saying rang true. I was pushing him away. I’d be heartbroken if I pushed him away forever.

God. I must have fucked up if Melissa of all people was making sense.

Doubt crept in and festered in the crevasses of my mind.

I allowed myself to imagine Wally pursuing culinary arts. He’d never expressed any interest in cooking before, but was that because I hadn’t been listening?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how little I knew my son. I spent so much time away, working myself to the bone to provide him with everything he’d need for a comfortable life. It was the same song and dance with Melissa, and I wound up driving her into the arms of another man.

Maybe Wally could make it. Maybe he’d become a world-class chef and open his restaurant, even end up on one of those reality TV cooking shows or whatever. He could be the next Gordon Ramsay, though without the British accent and significant anger issues. The chances of Wally reaching

those heights seemed slim, but at least… At least he’d be happy.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Melissa had a point. I’d rather Wally try to follow his passion than hate me. If on the off-chance things didn’t work out, he could always give the medical career track another attempt. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. I could see now that I was out of line.

I tried calling Wally, but he didn’t pick up. I then proceeded to send him a few texts. Those were a lot harder to ignore since they tended to pop up on the lock screen.

Wally, come home so we can discuss things.

I’ve given culinary school some thought.

We can talk things through when you get here.

A few minutes went by, but I received no response. He was ignoring me.

How was I supposed to apologize if he refused to speak with me?

“Dammit,” I grumbled under my breath. If he wasn’t going to pick up the phone for me, who would he pick up the phone for?

I bet he’d answer if Vivian called him. It was worth a shot.

I ventured down the hall toward the guest room, hand hovering over the door to knock. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. Things between Vivian and I were…uncertain. I tried keeping my distance. I wanted to be respectful of her space. The realization that I felt more for her than I cared to admit had been a frightening one. I wasn’t ready to take things further, maybe ever. So I thought pulling back was the best option for us both. Save us the heartbreak.

The softest sound reached my ears from the other side. Sniffling, then outright sobbing.

My throat closed and my heart thudded.

“Vivian?” I called to her, attempting to open the door. It was locked. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t come in,” she snapped.

“I thought I heard you-”

“I said don’t come in! Just leave me alone.”

She sounded so distressingly small and upset that it made my stomach clench. “Do you need anything?”

“Go away, Jesse.”

“You know I can’t do that, Vivian. I need to make sure you’re alright.” “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.” I rattled the doorknob again. “Open the door, Vivian. I’m not playing around. I need visual confirmation that you’re-”

The door swung open so fast that the surrounding air rushed past me. Vivian stood before me, looking everywhere except in my eyes. Probably to hide the fact that she’d been crying even though it was written all over her face. The puffiness of her cheeks and the redness of her nose, the small beads of moisture caught in her eyelashes.

“There,” she snapped. “Happy?”

I tried to reach out, but she took a step back. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“What do you care? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”

A pang of guilt bloomed in my chest. “I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“Bullshit.”

“I haven’t,” I insisted. “You’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Then why…” She shook her head. “I don’t understand.

You’ve been avoiding me. Don’t you dare deny it?”

“I have been.”

“Why?”

“Because you scare me. In more ways than one.”

Vivian’s nose curled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m scared of losing you,” I blurted out. “I’m scared of something happening to you. I’m scared of what I feel for you-”Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“What do you feel for me?” she echoed, so soft and confused and hopeful that it was suddenly hard for me to breathe. “What do you feel for me, Jesse?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “A lot of things. And what scares me is that I don’t know where this is going or if it’s going to go anywhere at all. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. And I’m scared you don’t feel the same way. I’m scared this isn’t going to work. I’m scared of hurting you. That’s why I’m keeping my distance. Because being with you… it’s too good to be true. And good things don’t happen to me, alright? The last time I allowed myself to feel what I feel…”

Vivian stroked my cheek, cool fingers grazing my chin. “I understand,” she said. “I’m scared, too. But please, don’t shut me out. That’s all I ask. I’ve missed you so much. There’s so much going on right now, and the only time I feel even remotely okay is when I’m with you. So please…” Vivian pressed against me, not an inch of space between us.

I caved like a house of cards.

I kissed her like it was the only thing I knew how to do. Her fingers combed through my hair as I circled her waist with my arms, pulling her against me. The sound of her soft moan was enough to make my heart seize. I didn’t want anything but this. I wanted to be selfish, even for just a little bit. Nothing else in the world mattered except the taste of her lips and the warmth of her skin.

There would be time to talk later. For now, this was all we needed.