Bound to Accept (3 page)

So he doesn't think about me that way.

“
I'm flattered,” he says
into the silence, “because you know how amazing I think you are—but
I really don't think it would work between us.”

I set down the unicorn figurine.
“You…don't?”

“
You know how I said
things with Ashlee didn't work out because we were into different
things?”

I nod, then remember he can't see it. “Yeah,
so?”

“
It'd be the same with
you, I think—except…maybe even worse.”

“
Worse?” I squawk,
indignant. “Um, hello. I've seen you in Power Rangers boxers! I sat
through all those Nicholas Cage movies with you! I—”

“
Kelly.” He speaks
shortly, in a way that sounds very adult—no,
authoritative
. The kind of tone that
brooks no argument. It stops me short. “I don't think we have
sexual compatibility.”

Are you fucking kidding
me? He's all I can think about, and he thinks we don't have
sexual compatibility
?

Now I really do want to cry.

At my lingering silence, Tristan seems to
realize that this is another one of those things he shouldn't have
said quite that way. He swears softly under his breath.

“
I didn't mean it like
that.”

They never do, that's the thing.

“
It's really nothing to do
with you, and everything to do with me.” Before I can tell him to
can the platitudes, he drops a real ball-buster. “I like…rough sex.
And I'm kinky. Really kinky. The kinds of things that I like to do
to women often make people uncomfortable. Might make
you
uncomfortable.”

I sniffle discreetly. “Like what?”

There is another pause. “What I'm trying to
tell you is I'm into BDSM.”

“
You mean like that
book?”

“
That is not at all
representative of—” he must realize he's raising his voice, because
he stops himself and begins again. “Nothing like that book. I
participate in BDSM, but I wasn't abused as a child. I don't hate
women, or particularly enjoy hurting women. Sometimes I make them
feel pain, but it's consensual, it serves a purpose—to get them
off—and they can indicate that they wish me to stop at any time. I
do like the power I get from total submission, and the trust that
my partner puts in me to give me everything, from her mind to her
body, while expecting nothing from me in return—except the
understanding that I won't violate that trust.”

“
But you do like tying
people up and stuff, though.” I say it like my heart isn't beating
double-time. Like I'm not imagining him tying me up right
now.

The thought is far from displeasing. I cross
my legs.

“
Yes.” I think I can make
out a smile in his voice. “That, amongst other things.”

Which reminds me, I still need to look up
“pony girl.” I open up a new tab on Google. “That doesn't sound too
bad. I have friends who write books about that stuff.”

“
That probably won't help
you understand. In my experience, the romance novels written about
BDSM have about as much in common with actual BDSM relationships as
a child playing with a jump rope.”

“
Oh,” I say. “So
spankings, is that a yes, or a n—oh my
God
, that woman is pulling a
cart.”

“
What?”

“
There's this woman, on
Wikipedia. She's, like, naked, except for this leather harness. And
she's pulling this old man around in a cart.”

“
Pulling—oh, Jesus, you
just looked up pony girl, didn't you?”

“
Is that what that means?
Oh God.”

“
Kelly, get off Wikipedia
right now,” he says.

“
You're not into
that
?” I say. “Are
you?”

“
No,” he says. “Pet play
isn't really my scene. And neither are spankings—unless, of course,
the sub has been a very bad girl. I do believe in
punishment.”

Oh my God, the way he says it, his voice
becomes this sexy, sultry snarl of darkness. I can feel my face
heat up. Thank God we're on the phone and he can't see me.

“
So it's called a scene,”
I stammer. “Like a bar scene, or a music scene. A BDSM scene. Okay,
that's cool.”

“
Get off Wikipedia,” he
repeats. “Some of the more hardcore stuff can freak novices
out.”

“
I'm not freaked out.” I
close the Wikipedia tab.

“
I can hear your
breathing,” he reminds me. “You sound like you're hyperventilating.
I'm starting to think bringing this up with you was a bad
idea.”

“
No! It wasn't. When I
said I liked you, I meant in spite of all your weird quirks and
idiosyncrasies. This…this isn't so bad.”

“
You make it sound like
something unpleasant. Like getting a shot.”

“
Isn't it?”

“
No, it's not,” he says.
“Or at least, it isn't supposed to be.”

“
What is it supposed to
be?”

“
Erotic,” he says
immediately.

I mull that over. “What else are you
into?”

“
That's a very personal
question to ask over the phone.”

“
Sorry.”

“
Don't be sorry. Ask me
again. In person, next time. I'll give you a different answer.
Maybe I'll even show you.”

There's a pause.

“
Are you on Wikipedia
again?” he says, somewhat sharply.

“
No. Why?”

He doesn't respond, but I think I hear him
laugh. After a few minutes, he says, “What are you thinking about
now?”

“
How strange it is that
I've known you for this long, and never saw this side to
you.”

“
It's not like I wear my
sexual preferences on my forehead,” he says dryly.

“
Might be easier that
way,” I mutter.

“
Part of the fun is
discovery.”

I shiver. An image comes to my mind—wrists
bound—a body laid bare, covered with paint: a map of eroticism.

“
I have to go,” he says.
“I have to do a conference call. Talk more tomorrow?”

“
Okay.”

I wonder if it really is okay. And I really
hope Tristan doesn't actually go around hitching leather-clad naked
women to chariots.

As if reading my mind, he says, “Don't
Google anything else. If you have any more questions, save them for
me.”

Tristan has a point about Google, especially
since we both know I can't help myself. Instead of giving into
temptation and possibly freaking myself out further, I pepper Kayla
with messages on Facebook.

Tristan broke things off with Ashlee

Told him how I feel

Think I might finally have a chance ;)

She doesn't respond right
away. Today is Monday, and that's when she tutors French to two
bratty kids on the posh side of town. I make myself some Sleepy
Time Tea in my Grumpy Cat mug and play Candy Crush until she gets
on.

Two hours of life whoring later, and
subsequently annoying all my Facebook friends, Kayla finally logs
in.

OMG so proud! GOOD FOR YOU, GIRLFRAN. And it
only took 15 years, haha. When's the wedding?

I roll my eyes, secretly pleased by her
enthusiasm.

How 19th century of u. Just bc in
relationship doesn't mean have to tie knot. Might just keep him on
as love slave.

Except, if what he's told
me is any indication of his sexual proclivities, I might just end
up being
his
love
slave.

LOL. So are you 2 going out?

T wants to meet tomorrow to talk.

Uh oh.
She writes.
Talk? That is never a
good sign.

I'm tempted to tell her
about the whole BDSM thing, but that's Tristan's business and seems
kind of private. After all, I'm his best friend and he never even
told
me
.

I have a good feeling
about this
, I write, wondering even as the
words appear on the screen if that's really true.

Is this really what I want, or am I forcing
myself into a box to get the guy of my dreams? I suppose I'll find
out tomorrow. I trust Tristan, and like he said on the phone, he
doesn't take trust lightly. I'm pretty sure he won't force me into
something I don't want.

That makes me feel better. Confident, even.
Telling him how I feel was the hard part.

How was tutoring, btw?

Kids are a bunch of merdes. As usual. Good
luck! Will keep my fingers crossed for u :)

Thanks, I need it!!

Mind if I tell Lydia & Amy? They will be
so happy for u!

K
, I type.
But make sure u tell them
nothing's offish.

I'm afraid if I put too much stock in this,
I'll jinx myself and end up wrecking everything. But I really want
this to work. I wonder what he'll want to talk to me about.

If he wasn't interested, he would have said
so.

Would he, though? Men are confusing.
Sometimes they think the easiest way to let you down is to say
nothing at all and hope you'll lose interest and go away on your
own.

Chapter Three

I don't sleep well. I spend half the night
tossing and turning from nerves. I may have gotten about four hours
of sleep all told when I finally get up the next morning.

Tristan said he'd call, but I don't want to
be waiting around my apartment until he does. I catch the bus going
downtown and do some window-shopping. Then I go to a sushi takeout
place I've never been to before—Lucky Sushi, the name seems
fortuitous—and order the spider roll. It looks delicious, made of
soft shell crab and avocado.

I take the sushi with me to the park nearby
and sit down on one of the benches. It's hazy, but not as foggy as
it sometimes gets, and there's a bit of sun to keep it from being
too chilly. I eat the sushi with a pair of wooden chopsticks, and
watch the people strolling by.

I wonder how many of them like the kind of
sex Tristan does. The punk with a purple mohawk? The woman in the
Chanel business suit? Both? Neither?

There's a lot to think about.

Tristan calls when I've got the last bite of
spider roll in my mouth. I swallow, and shift the chopsticks to one
hand so I can answer the phone. “Hello, Tristan.”

“
You still want to meet up
today?”

“
Yeah. I just grabbed
lunch, though.”

“
That's fine. I'm not
hungry. Where are you now?”

“
The park.”

“
Which one?”

I tell him, and he says he'll be here in
twenty minutes, which gives me enough time to dispose of my trash
and sit there for another nineteen nervous minutes.

My phone vibrates against
my leg, but it's only Lydia, who wants to know if
“u lovebirds talking yet?”

She's probably proud of herself. She's been
pushing me to ask Tristan out for years.

Waiting for him
now,
I text back, because I know she'll
back off. I love my friends dearly, but sometimes their
unconditional encouragement is frightening in its intensity.
Especially when they act like pimps.

My phone buzzes
again.
Here.

I look up, and my heart stops when I see him
pull up on his bicycle. The bay breeze ruffles dark brown hair as
he lifts his hand in a wave. The sun burnishes him in gold, and I
am in love, and I might just end up shattering into pieces for it,
but I don't care. He is beautiful, inside and out, even if he
occasionally walks on the dark side.

He must have just gotten off work. He's
wearing slacks and a dress shirt. As he dismounts from the bike, I
think again to myself how long his legs are. How it might feel to
wrap mine around him and—

“
You look nice.” He's
never really paid much attention to the way I look before. But when
he's close enough, he lifts a strand of my hair. “Did you curl
it?”

“
No.” I swallow. “It's
just a little humid.”

He rubs the lock of hair between his
fingers, looking down at me. Is he going to kiss me? I part my
lips, and he says, “Are you going to say something?”

I shake my head.

“
Then I'll start.” He
releases the lock of hair. “I realized almost as soon as I said we
didn't have compatibility what a shit thing that was to say.
Especially after what you confessed to me. Obviously, you feel some
attraction towards me.” He smiles. “But when you've known someone
for—what, fifteen years—it's a little weird to have all that change
all at once. You're very attractive—” He thinks so? “—but I never
allowed myself to think about you that way. I have to
compartmentalize. You were always off-limits.”

“
I'm not,
though.”

“
I know that now.” He lets
out his breath. “You made that quite clear.”

“
And now here we
are.”

“
Yes.” He starts wheeling
his bike. “Walk with me.”

“
Okay.”

All that fish and rice from the sushi is
starting to swim around in my stomach. I'm hoping the walk will
ease the jitters, though with Tristan here, that seems
unlikely.

“
I'll be honest,” he says.
“I still don't feel entirely comfortable with the idea of taking
you.”