Ethically Speaking

4.0

•- Quincie Jackson -•

There is a silence in the air as I stare at him expectantly. But his hesitancy speaks volumes.

There's a part of me that wants to stand my ground. To tell him that I want this, that I want him. And that if he doesn't feel the same then I hope we can come to some sort of understanding of what this relationship means to the both of us.

But then there's the part that sympathizes with him.

What I'm asking...No what I'm stating, is a lot to ask of a man. In his thirties nonetheless. To take my virginity? It is a big step in our relationship. One I've come to the decision that I'm ready for. He's done wonders at making me feel comfortable not only with my own sexuality but with the concept of being with a man. But I can't expect him to jump my bones upon declaration. Not that I believe I would mind but this silence is just too deadly.

I'm half tempted to ask if he's heard me but there's a look on his face that reads as if I've asked him to rob a bank with me.

No, not that extreme. Maybe as if I've asked him to hop on the back of my sparkly pink scooter for a quick trip to school.

Yeah, that seems like a reasonable expression to have for an outlandish offer. Not that I even own a sparkly scooter.

I mean I did when I was younger but who is to say my parents didn't give it away at a toy drive as I got older? And Lucy, well her favorite activities involve opening a book or having political debates with Barbies dressed in sweater vests.

Even my brain is rambling to fill the awkwardness that has shifted between us.

Without so much as another thought to it, I say something in such a quick voice I barely hear myself speak.

"Forget I said anything that was stupid."

Elijah blinks, which he hadn't even done since I started rambling about sparkly pink scooters in my mind.

The sheets ruffle underneath me as I reach for the comforter. It had escaped my mind that as he was staring off into oblivion (finding polite and very British ways to reject me I'm sure) I was as naked as the day I was born and very much on display for anyone who was in the viewing of his windows.

But he's far too high in the building for anyone to actually see me naked. At least that's a silver lining, right?

I feel like I've been trapped in a one-sided staring contest. Besides one blink, his eyes are open to new widths. Seriously, this guy should get his eyes checked.

Having enough of the intense situation, I scramble to climb from his bed. I would at least like to save some of my pride by walking out of here pretending to be emotionally unscathed. But the thing is, I'm certain the second my bedroom door is shut I'll erupt into hysterical crying not only from the rejection but embarrassment that I'm currently pushing away as to not cry in front of him.

As I swing my legs off the bed with full intent to redress and leave without another word, Elijah's hand wraps around my forearm tightly and I'm halted.

"Wait, Quincie."

What, was my underwear on the other side of the bed? I'm so sorry for being such an inconvenience.