That being said, I’m not sure I should be a pediatrician just because I like kids.
I know it’s a hard and emotionally draining career path, but I’m still leaning towards oncology. Once I get to medical school, I’ll be able to figure it out.
That’s what I need to keep telling myself. I can’t worry too much about Nate. My future is waiting for me. I’ve got to move onto bigger and better things.
I settle into a table at the library and open up my books.
I actually manage to study for several hours. Somehow, between the vivid dream and the hard workout, I’ve found clarity. Nate and I had a spontaneous moment of glory, but that’s all it was: a moment, based on raw physical instincts. I still have self-worth, and I still want the same things. I have a life to lead. And Nate doesn’t really have a place in that life.
It’s a little sad of course. I like Nate. I’m wildly attracted to him. But it is what it is.
By the time I’m ready to leave the library, I’m also prepared to compose a text for Nate. It will be my last bit of work for the day. Then I’ll go home and relax since it is the weekend, after all, and I’ve had a pretty intense few days.
I pull out my phone and write out the draft of the text in my notes application. I don’t want to accidentally send it to Nate. I spend a good thirty minutes writing and rewriting and making edits until I have what I want:
Hi Nate! I wanted to be clear about how I feel. I don’t regret what happened between us the other night at all, but I do think it should be a one-time thing. I know you’ll respect my boundaries, and I’m grateful for how you treated me. That being said, I don’t think we should try and continue since it was just a fun night and nothing more. Thank you for understanding.
It’s a little stiff, but I think that’s for the best. I want to be extra clear. I want to not delve into any grey area. Sure, I definitely have feelings for him beyond feeling like the sex was “fun.” However, there’s no use in blabbing on about nuanced stuff in a text. Yes, I have feelings, but I don’t want to have them, so I just need to deny them. Eventually, they will go away.
I also think the text makes it clear that I have no regrets and I do appreciate how kind he was. He’s an adult. He’s probably slept with loads of women. He’s used to one-night-stands. And he will just have to respect my wishes. I know Nate well enough to know he’ll do that. We will return to our landlord-tenant relationship, and if I sometimes have a vivid dream about him, that’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it on my own.
I copy and paste the message into a text for Nate. The last time we texted it was about the stupid water heater. That’s awkward.
I sigh as I read over the text once more. Becca will be disappointed. She is going to want updates on the online guy who has me so distracted, but I’ll have to tell her our chat fizzled out.
I nod once and hit send. Then I tuck my phone into my bag and resolve to get back to my regular life.
Chapter Fourteen
Nate
I’m in the grocery store when I receive the text from Cynthia.
Once I read it, I nearly shove my hand through the glass door in the frozen meals aisle. The text isn’t like from Cynthia. It’s not the way she talks, and it’s so aggressively untrue.
It was just a fun night? There’s no way she actually believes that. I saw her afterwards. I saw the way she was trying to come to terms with it and think it over. It was her first time crying out loud.
She’s trying to push me away. I get it. What happened between us is a lot to process. But I won’t let her push me away. I can’t.
I need to speak to her. I need to see her face to face. If she tells me in person that she doesn’t want anything to happen between us and she is totally fine with moving on as if the other night never happened, then I’ll accept it. But only then. I’m not going to just accept this text filled with stock statements that don’t even sound like her.
I want to make sure she’s ok, first and foremost. I don’t want her to deny her emotions and push them beneath the surface. They will come back to haunt her, I know it.
And once I make sure she’s ok, I want to show her, once and for all, that we are not just “fun.” Our physical connection is so much more than that. What we share should not be a one-time thing.
Standing still in the grocery aisle, I read over the text once more. At least I can take comfort in the fact that she is saying she doesn’t regret what happened. It doesn’t mean it’s the truth. A disgusted feeling slides through my chest. I hope it’s the truth. I hope she’s not locked in her apartment in some sort of deep sadness and sending this text to try and cover it up.
I was wrong to not reach out. She needed space, but she also needed to know that I was there for her. I’m not a one-night-stand.
I shove my phone away and prowl through the grocery store, mulling over my next move. My cart is already half-full, so I might as well finish what I’m doing. I throw items into my cart without paying much attention. I’m used to shopping for myself, I’ve been doing it for so long.
A woman in the
