Page 44 of This I Promise You
“I mean, I did have to rescue you from one,” he grunts.
“I overdid it, didn’t I?” I roll my eyes, but he’s not done.
“You got a shirt on under that?”
“Yeah, why?” Seems like a weird question to me.
“Untuck and unbutton. You look like you’re going to church to meet a pretty girl.”
I do as he says, even though it sort of feels like I’m undressing in front of him. If he says it’s better, then it’s better. I don’t know.
“I mean, maybe not for a pretty girl, but a pretty boy.”
“Oh, so you’re taking me to church?” Paul eyes me.
“I… That could…” My mind goes to that Hozier song that’s all about sex called “Take Me to Church”, but I decide it’s best to keep my mouth shut. “Never mind. You ready?”
But I’m glad I mentioned how great he looks because my nerves ease a bit. He does look hot.
“Love the hat by the way,” I say after he nods and we start back down the sidewalk to my car. “Just ignore the brakes squealing. It’s fine, I promise.”
Is it a lie? I don’t honestly know, but I think we’re good.
* * *
I wish I’d worn a heavier jacket. I don’t know how he’s dealing in only a long-sleeve shirt, unless he’s got a few extra under it.
Despite the cold I think things are going better this time. I’m not scared out of my mind and Paul seems less tense too. Maybe the farmers market in Kannapolis wasn’t a bad idea after all. I mean who can hate locally sourced produce and area crafters?
We walk past a booth stocked entirely with carrots and onions, then another with an arrangement of cabbage, peas, spinach, and a few things I don’t recognize. I honestly didn’t think the market was open during the winter months, but in my haste yesterday to find somewhere to take Paul, this popped up in my search. I hadn’t planned that far ahead when I decided to knock on his door unannounced, another thing I can’t believe I did.
“Ooh, I love homemade soaps.” I point at an enclosed booth just ahead with a banner out front that proclaimsRub-a-Dub Soaps. “Come on.” I take off for it.
He jogs after me and into the booth where a lady around our age is standing behind a quaintly decorated table covered in an assortment of soaps and bath products. There are so many scents. Midnight Sea, Pink Blossom—I bet that one’s really sweet—Thunder Clash, Peppermint Mocha, and the list goes on.
“How about this one?” Paul says, picking up a yellow and pink bar.
“Citrus Lemonade?” I ask, slightly confused.
“Yeah, I thought you’d like this smell. It’s like the cologne you use. Spicy citrus, kinda. Maybe? I don’t know.” Paul blushes and my mind empties. He smells me? He knows how I smell?
“Uh yeah, I do.” I gulp back the sudden nerves in the back of my throat. And now I don’t know what to say, so Ipick up one called Whipped Mocha and give the bar a whiff. Not bad. Not sure I want to smell like a Mocha Frappuccino every time I bathe, but not bad. I offer it to Paul and he leans in and smells it. His nose crinkles but he smiles. “This isn’t bad.”
“What about this one?” Paul shrugs and shows me one called Fireside. He smells it first and gives an approving grin. “Kinda woodsy. Kinda fitting with all the flannel country vibes.”
I step closer, letting my free hand brush his, trying to ignore the spark that races up my arm, and take a deep breath of the bar’s scent. Fireside is accurate. It brings back memories of sitting around a fire on Bertie Beach with Dad and Sam and Shane—my high school best friend—back when things were a little simpler and it didn’t feel like my body could break down at any moment.
I grin and nod, but in the same instant I’m overtaken by a sense of dread. I look Paul in the eyes for a brief moment and wonder if he could see me the same way he does now if he knew that at some point I could end up on the ground seizing if my MS got that bad, or that I might have to use a walker, or that I might not be able to…perform in bed all the time.
I’m not an idiot. I know I’ve been reckless with my sex life, but it’s just terrifying knowing that one day my body might take over and I won’t have any control. I already get a small taste of it, but…I don’t know. I just want to have as much control as I can before it’s gone. Even if it isn’t real.
No, stop. Stop it, Easton.That’s all a long way down the road, and you’re doing everything you need to to avoid it.
That’s why I always have my morning run and stretches. It’s why despite the amount of alcohol I might have I still try to eat mostly healthy. I don’t plan on letting it mess up my life, but a part of me still wonders if it would matter to Paul.
“This one’s not bad.” He lifts a bar to my nose and I smile for him as I smell it. Woah. Lemon. There’s definitely lemon in that.
“Ew.” I shrug. “It’s nottheworst.”
