"What is my biggest pet peeve?" I quizzed Shane, while watching him trim meat at the kitchen counter.
"People that don't avoid potholes when driving."
I didn't miss the adorable smirk as he answered the question correctly and without hesitation.
Thanks to Google, I had a list of popular Newlywed game questions on my phone and had been grilling him for days. It'd been almost five months since we started over. Almost five months since Shane dropped the bomb that we weren't having sex until we got to know each other.
A lot had happened in those months.
We finally professed our love. It wasn't hormone induced like the first time—well, maybe a little. It was two weeks after the championship game. I'd come back from my third 'coffee date' with Jack and was feeling a bit like a pile of fresh horse manure. Jack showed no mercy, and most of our afternoon I felt like being an ant under a magnifying glass.
Conversation was casual and then, BAM, he'd ask what seemed like a really simple question, except it was only an illusion. Like,
'how'd it make you feel when Shane was disrespectful?'
That's what I'd consider an easy question. But then he'd ask, 'how do you think Shane felt when you did one of the many shitty and selfish things you did in return? (my words, not his).
'Well Jack, he probably felt giant, pathetic loser, thanks for bringing it up!'
Anyway, I had just come back from a particularly shitty conversation, where it was ever so kindly brought to my attention how superficial I was. How I projected my insecurity to those around me. It sounds so simple, but by the time I got home I was red hot and angry—at myself.
Shane had come over for dinner. By the end of the evening I'd really wanted to end the no sex thing. I thought I needed the physical contact. When he stood his ground and said no, well, let's just say I hadn't taken his rejection lightly. Oh no. I'd not taken it lightly at all. He'd tried to bow out gracefully, to leave before things got worse.
None of that worked.
We ended up in the street, me giving the neighborhood a first-rate show. I screamed, yelled, and waved my arms wildly like the true psycho I could be.
"You're probably seeing someone else! That's why you don't want to touch me!" I'd accused.
"Yes, I'm only with you for the theatrics. Who needs sex when I can have all this," he'd quipped, gesturing toward me and breaking the silence he'd held during most of my outlandish behavior.
Slap.
He hadn't seen it coming. Neither had I. I don't know who it shocked more; me or him. The stinging in my palm broke whatever rage I'd been in and I instantly realized the error of my way. I stood there shocked, then rushed forward.
"I did not mean to do that!" I apologized profusely. I'd hit him. He'd had every right to leave me; to storm out and never return.
"Are you done," he'd asked, after I finally stopped apologizing.
"Don't leave me," I'd begged.
He rolled his eyes. "You're love of the arts is strong, but not nearly as strong as my love for you."
I kissed the shit out of him. I would've kept kissing the shit out of him if he hadn't ruined the moment by smacking my ass ridiculously hard. I pulled back in surprise and rubbed my tender bum. "What was that for?" I asked.
"Tit for tat," he rubbed the spot on his cheek where I'd hit him minutes before, to drive his point home.
It wasn't the Nicolas Sparks moment we had the first time we'd confessed our love, but it was real and it was raw. I hadn't realized how much I needed to hear those words. It was the intimacy I needed and made waiting for sex a little easier. A little.
Shane's house had been mostly completed and he had asked me to help shop for furniture and home decor. I guess all the complaining I did, telling him that his style was lifeless; full of black and grey, had been enough to make him cave. I was far from an interior designer, but happily accepted his offer anyway. I thought it would be fun to go shopping with his money and buy a bunch of crap. His hesitation while picking out some of the pieces was apparent, but for the most part, he let me take the lead. He might have moaned and groaned, but in the end, I think he really liked it. It was still obviously Shane's home, and there was still a lot of grey and black, but now there was color and personality, too. We had a lot of fun making his house a home and, although we hadn't talked about it, I think we both had visions of
our home.
Shane had also flown east with me and met my parents. We only stayed for the weekend, which was the perfect amount of time. I love my parents but they can be a bit intense. I figured it was best to take baby bites. They were ecstatic to have us visit. I hadn't dated anyone long enough to meet the parents. To be honest, I didn't see them as much as I should've, with or without a boyfriend. Regardless, Mom had gone all Joanna Gaines on steroids upon our arrival. Not that I was complaining, we were treated like royalty, but it's still weird to watch my parents be a bit psycho. Shane seemed amused when he first saw the shrine that was my former baseball life. He quite enjoyed reliving that time of my life and my parents had no qualms about answering all of his obscene amount of questions. Luckily, he still loved me when we flew home.
Speaking of family, I'd even been included into Shane's village. They'd typically have dinner twice a month. After being badgered by this mother, Shane invited me along. The first dinner was incredibly awkward. Shane's dad barely spoke the entire time. As I came around more, he had warmed up, until finally, after half a dozen encounters, he apologized. We're not best friends but it wasn't nearly as tense, either. I did feel like I had a better understanding into Shane's history. His dad is incredibly loveable and you can't help but want to impress him yet, he's a bit cold and judgmental. It makes the sting that much more severe. Shane still loved his dad, but it was clear a healthy distance had formed between them.
We also hadn't won a single game of Newlywed against DAKS. Of the twelve or so games we'd played, we had come up short every time. Now that we were sitting at eighteen weeks post pool party, I can admit that my earlier guesstimate of one to two weeks was a bit zealous. Which is why I was reading a list of questions from google in an attempt to finally win. Five months is a completely insane amount of time to refrain from all sexual activity. Yes, all sexual activity. Shane hadn't been joking. I was lucky to get a steamy goodnight kiss when we parted ways at nine-pm. Shane was insistent about that so we didn't 'tempt each other'.
It probably had something to do with the fact I'd try like hell to seduce the crap out of him every chance I got. In fact, it's the thing we'd fought the most about. I never had taken rejection well.
I wasn't sure what was worse, going almost five months without touching Shane below the belt or consistently losing a 'who knows who best' game to his friends. Like, obviously we had a rocky start because we really didn't know shit about each other. I'd never admit it, but every time we lost, I felt like it only served to prove Shane's point.
"What would I say is your pet peeve?"
"These questions," he looks up from the meat and winks. He's such a damn tease.
"I'm serious! You might enjoy not getting your dick wet but I don't."
I stuck my lip out and pouted, upset he wasn't taking it as serious as me. I knew he was dying to fuck me but I think he also enjoyed watching me suffer, and his poker face was a lot better than mine.
"People that stand in the middle of the escalator, not allowing others to pass."
"Yesss," I danced in my chair. "That's what I would've said!"
I followed Shane around the kitchen and quizzed him, then out to the yard as he started laying meat on the grill. When we first met, he wasn't all that great a cook but, since we weren't having sex, he'd been watching a lot of Gordon Ramsay shows and he seemed to have found his inspiration.
I made him quiz me in return until the doorbell rang. Even then, we stayed outside. There was no need greet the bastards at the door, they were going to make themselves at home anyway.
"Do we get a handicap since Aaron and Kurt have been friends since the dawn of time?"
"This isn't golf, there's no handicap," Shane shook his head at me.
"Well, there should be," I huffed.
