Teach me to trust

32. Milly

I nervously check my phone for the hundredth time since my conversation with Nate.

I open our conversation and see my last message to him,

'So give it to me' and I cringe, what on Earth possessed me to send him a message like that I don't know. Maybe it was the deep timbre of his voice over the phone that made my brain feel scrambled.

Either way I feel like I fucked up. There must be some kind of reason we haven't had sex yet and what if I've pushed him away by making some sort of comment about it. Sure, we've done other things together but he never seems to want to take it that step further.

Maybe he doesn't want to have sex with me at all? Too much connection for him so he just sticks to foreplay.

Surely not.

I'm wandering around town with JD, who begged me to stop off a little café that apparently sells the best pastries he's ever eaten. He practically forced me to buy a cinnamon bun, watching my face eagerly as I took my first bite, and damn him if it wasn't the best cinnamon bun I've ever had.

He sees the look on my face and fist pumps the air, almost throwing his coffee all over himself before he takes a sip, small content smile on his face and I feel glad that I can be his distraction for a while.

We find a little table outside the café and sit down to sip our hot drinks, turning slightly to throw my rubbish in the bin and sending JD a smile. It's nice to have a new friend like JD, it can be difficult to form a friendship with a man without every action being misunderstood as flirtation. With JD there isn't any of that, just a comfortable friendship.

I clear my throat and tilt my head as I look at him,

"I need to ask just once. Are you okay?" and I make sure I ask quietly, there isn't any need for the people around us to hear this conversation. He looks at me in thought,

"I feel okay. Better than I thought. I just keep thinking about what if she does this to somebody else?" he shakes his head and sips his coffee,

"Is it fucked up that I'm glad I don't remember?" he whispers to me with his head down, as if he's afraid of what he'll see when he looks at me.

"Can I ask why you're glad?" and he lifts his head back up to look at me, eyes on mine as he looks for any sign I might be judging him. As if I ever would.

"I feel like, because I don't remember exactly what happened I don't have that image or memory in my head to deal with. Right now it's the unknown and I get that some people will probably think that's worse, but I think if I knew for certain and I had that memory that I wouldn't be able to deal with it" he shakes his head,

"You know, I think those people that deal with this stuff and have to live with that everyday are probably some of the bravest people I know. It takes fucking guts to accept that kind of thing happened without losing your mind" I place my hand on top of his on the table, nodding my head in agreement.

"I agree. But I don't think it's fucked up that you'd rather not remember, I think that's perfectly normal for you to feel that way" and he sends me a relieved smile, sitting back in his chair and taking a deep breath.

"I feel better for saying that, thanks" and his eyes roam around the street, taking in everything around us and I can see that his thanks was genuine. I open my mouth to ask him if he wants to drop me off at home when I see his eyes flash with recognition at someone behind me, lifting his hand to wave.

"Milly! Hey!" and I feel an itch at the back of my mind at the sound of that name.

'Milly? What's up'