Deep Surrendering (Episode Three) by Chelsea M. Cameron Page B
Authors: Chelsea M. Cameron
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thinking of you. I was upset and I didn’t know what else to do. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, Marisol, but I don’t have very good coping skills.” Yes, I had noticed that, but it wasn’t the biggest issue at the present moment.
It was one thing to have him tell me that he visited hookers, prostitutes, whatever you wanted to call them, but it was another to know he’d seen one right after seeing me. Or before, actually.
He waited for my reaction, poised in his chair as if he was going to bolt again. Yet another failed coping mechanism. Run away when things get hard. Literally.
“Okay. Okay. Okay.” I kept saying it, emphasizing different parts of the word. I didn’t really know what else to say.
Once again, I wasn’t going to throw him a party, but this was yet another fact to put in the Fin File I’d started assembling in my mind.
“So you went to see her. To have sex?” I just needed to clarify that before we went forward. Perhaps it would be better if we did the secret thing after we had sex. It wasn’t the best foreplay at the moment.
“Yes. But the moment I looked at her, and she wasn’t you, I couldn’t, and I’m not sure if I can ever go back.” His eyes gazed at something far away that I couldn’t see, or even imagine.
He orbited in a strange world filled with people I would never meet.
“Ever go back to her, or to all of it?”
He inhaled again. “I don’t know, Marisol. I just don’t know. But there you go. One secret.” He put his hands on his knees like he was going to get up, but I put my hand up to stop him.
“Wait, I just … I need a second before we, you know.” He sat back and nodded. I wasn’t feeling particularly amorous at the moment, despite the fact that he said he’d been thinking of me and that was why he didn’t get it on with that woman. It was sweet, in a twisted way.
“Can we just,” I said, looking around, “can we just put on the brakes and do something else for a little while?” He nodded, his eyes unreadable.
“Cool. Okay.” I got up and searched for something to amuse us with while I mentally processed. I didn’t want to watch a movie, so I went to the cupboard under the TV and brought out several board games.
I held up Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit.
“Pick one,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t think this was the height of lame. I also had Jenga.
“Scrabble,” he said, pointing. The barest hint of amusement touched his lips. It was like a pre-smile.
“Scrabble it is. I’ll warn you, I know a lot of words.” I cleared a few things off the coffee table and set the board up.
“You do? Care to make things interesting?” Of course Fin was competitive. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from a man who loved control.
“Maybe. Stakes?”
“Winner gets to plan a date activity and the loser has to go along with it. No matter what.” Hmm, that was interesting. Mostly I’d let Fin pick our dates, but he’d asked for my input here and there on different places I liked.
“Deal,” I said, picking my letter tiles from the bag after shaking it up.
“No matter what,” Fin said, his eyes glittering. Yes. This was going to be interesting.
Fin did know a lot of words. He was a voracious reader, and I had to admit that some of the words he played I’d only heard once or twice in my life, and had never actually used in conversation. But my endless studies had also given me a store of academic buzzwords, and I was using them as much as I could. And so far neither of us had to use any dirty words. I didn’t know if he was avoiding them, or if they just hadn’t come up.
“Eschew,” I said, setting down my tiles. I counted up my points and recorded them. I was in the lead by a narrow margin. I tried not to gloat, but it wasn’t easy.
Fin stared at the board with more concentration than I’d seen on world class chess players. He propped his chin on his clasped hands and looked at the board from different angles,
It was one thing to have him tell me that he visited hookers, prostitutes, whatever you wanted to call them, but it was another to know he’d seen one right after seeing me. Or before, actually.
He waited for my reaction, poised in his chair as if he was going to bolt again. Yet another failed coping mechanism. Run away when things get hard. Literally.
“Okay. Okay. Okay.” I kept saying it, emphasizing different parts of the word. I didn’t really know what else to say.
Once again, I wasn’t going to throw him a party, but this was yet another fact to put in the Fin File I’d started assembling in my mind.
“So you went to see her. To have sex?” I just needed to clarify that before we went forward. Perhaps it would be better if we did the secret thing after we had sex. It wasn’t the best foreplay at the moment.
“Yes. But the moment I looked at her, and she wasn’t you, I couldn’t, and I’m not sure if I can ever go back.” His eyes gazed at something far away that I couldn’t see, or even imagine.
He orbited in a strange world filled with people I would never meet.
“Ever go back to her, or to all of it?”
He inhaled again. “I don’t know, Marisol. I just don’t know. But there you go. One secret.” He put his hands on his knees like he was going to get up, but I put my hand up to stop him.
“Wait, I just … I need a second before we, you know.” He sat back and nodded. I wasn’t feeling particularly amorous at the moment, despite the fact that he said he’d been thinking of me and that was why he didn’t get it on with that woman. It was sweet, in a twisted way.
“Can we just,” I said, looking around, “can we just put on the brakes and do something else for a little while?” He nodded, his eyes unreadable.
“Cool. Okay.” I got up and searched for something to amuse us with while I mentally processed. I didn’t want to watch a movie, so I went to the cupboard under the TV and brought out several board games.
I held up Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit.
“Pick one,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t think this was the height of lame. I also had Jenga.
“Scrabble,” he said, pointing. The barest hint of amusement touched his lips. It was like a pre-smile.
“Scrabble it is. I’ll warn you, I know a lot of words.” I cleared a few things off the coffee table and set the board up.
“You do? Care to make things interesting?” Of course Fin was competitive. I wouldn’t have expected anything less from a man who loved control.
“Maybe. Stakes?”
“Winner gets to plan a date activity and the loser has to go along with it. No matter what.” Hmm, that was interesting. Mostly I’d let Fin pick our dates, but he’d asked for my input here and there on different places I liked.
“Deal,” I said, picking my letter tiles from the bag after shaking it up.
“No matter what,” Fin said, his eyes glittering. Yes. This was going to be interesting.
Fin did know a lot of words. He was a voracious reader, and I had to admit that some of the words he played I’d only heard once or twice in my life, and had never actually used in conversation. But my endless studies had also given me a store of academic buzzwords, and I was using them as much as I could. And so far neither of us had to use any dirty words. I didn’t know if he was avoiding them, or if they just hadn’t come up.
“Eschew,” I said, setting down my tiles. I counted up my points and recorded them. I was in the lead by a narrow margin. I tried not to gloat, but it wasn’t easy.
Fin stared at the board with more concentration than I’d seen on world class chess players. He propped his chin on his clasped hands and looked at the board from different angles,
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