Motion(Laws of Physics #1)(50)
Gabby and I stared at each other for several long seconds, during which she appeared to be stunned. It was clear she didn’t know what to say, but she had an abundance of thoughts on the subject. Conversely, I didn’t need to give the issue any additional consideration. I knew my thoughts, and therefore I knew what actions to take and how to behave.
Eventually, the lack of conversation or action made me antsy. I turned from Gabby’s stare and reacquainted myself with our surroundings. Picking up the violin I’d left on Lisa’s desk, I carefully returned it to its case.
“You are . . .” Gabby paused, and I looked at her. Her expression was free of judgment. “You are . . .” Again, she didn’t finish her thought. This time her mouth opened and closed, as though she were hunting for the most-accurate descriptive phrase possible, her eyes narrowing as her focus seemed to turn inward.
Closing the violin case, I secured the latches and leaned it against the wall near where Gabby sat conducting her mental word search.
I’d just straightened when Gabby asked, “Are you a virgin?”
12
Newton’s Second Law of Motion: Concept of a System
I froze, shifting my eyes to her face. She’d asked the question evenly, thoughtfully, as though merely questioning whether I’d ever baked a turkey in the spatchcock position, and did I recommend it or have a good recipe.
I shook my head. “I’m not answering that.”
“Come on. Tell me. I’m seriously trying to help you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Gabby,” I leveled her with a glare, “You don’t even like me.”
“That’s not true. I like you, but you are also so freaking irritating.”
“Which means you don’t like me.”
“Because you became a Mary Sue. But I love you.”
I snorted, shaking my head, and returned to Lisa’s desk. Picking up the first half of the music books stacked there, I walked to the closet.
“If you search your coldly rational soul, you will see that I am telling the truth.” She watched me for a few minutes as I ignored her and piled the sheet music neatly in the corner of Lisa’s closet. Eventually she added, “Mona, we’ve known each other almost our whole lives. I will always want what I think is best for you.”
“You want what’s best for me? Which is what?” I returned to the desk, grabbing more music books.
“First and foremost, a life of fulfillment. Secondarily, security, peace of mind, comfort, and companionship.”
Her response surprised me to such an extent, I lost my grip on the second stack of music as I knelt, and they fell to the floor in a haphazard pile.
“Did I surprise you?” She asked this feigning a British accent.
I huffed a laugh, but said, “Yes. I find your answer surprising.”
“You can thank my therapist. So—” she sauntered over and shoved my shoulder again with her fingers “—are you a virgin?”
“No,” I ground out reluctantly, rearranging the pile.
“And I assume you lost your virginity to a boyfriend?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“Really? Now you’ve surprised me.”
“How so?”
Gabby was quiet for a bit. I heard her take a deep breath. Release it. Take another. Meanwhile, finished stacking the music, I stood and returned to the bed, reclaiming my seat at the end of it.
Finally, she said, “But, I guess, it does kind of make sense.”
“What makes sense?”
“You’ve never had a boyfriend, and that makes sense. It would require you asking someone to put you first.”
I gritted my teeth. “Gabby—”
“But how does that work? I mean, you yank away when I touch your arm and you’ve known me forever.”
I tried to hide my wince by studying Lisa’s bedspread for lint. “So?”
“Soooo, you don’t like to be touched. At all. How does sex work if you don’t like touching?”
“I don’t like uninvited touching, when it’s a surprise.” I believed these words when I said them. But after they were out of my mouth, I discovered they weren’t entirely accurate—not recently, not with Abram—and worked to suppress a blooming yet distressing warmth low in my stomach.
“I don’t get it. What do you do when you have sex? Announce what you’re going to do before you do it?”
“Not all sex requires a lot of touching. I’m extremely clear regarding my expectations before sex, what I want out of the experience, what we will and will not do, what I hope to achieve. I ask my partner for the same information. If the guy does anything unexpected, I simply end it.”
“Reeeeeeally?” Gabby plopped down next to me on the bed, the intensity of her gaze told me she was absolutely fascinated. “Like, you talk about the sex before you have it? What you’re going to do? What’s going to happen?”
“Exactly.” How else was I supposed to determine whether or not sex with a partner was necessary? The scientific method existed for a reason.
“That’s so interesting!”