“W-what?” I asked, baffled.

He was practically physically restraining himself from me and I wanted nothing more than to leap from this counter and straddle him. Slowing down was the last thing on my mind.

He dragged a hand down his face, looking completely tortured. “Because I like you,” he said in a pained manner.

I snorted, those being the last words I expected to come out of his mouth right now. “Um. Yeah, that’s usually a catalyst to moments like these, not a deterrent.”

“Damn it,” he hissed, frustration written all over his face. “It’s just—I just… Fuck.” He balled his fists and rubbed them against his eyes before pacing the small kitchen.

His reaction sobered my desires slightly. Rejection from Oliver had been the last thing I expected and it was hitting me hard. Sure, the date might have ended messy, but I thought we’d come to the conclusion that we wanted each other. He’d been giving me all the signals. Even now, I had no idea what the hell was going on. How could he say he liked me and then back away in the same moment?

I slid off the counter, unsure of what to do. “Should I go?” I asked, praying he’d say no.

That snapped him out of his daze. He stopped pacing, crossed back to me, and stood in front of me, taking my hands in his. “No, God, please. Don’t go. That’s the last thing I want.”

“You’re being confusing as hell right now.”

“I know,” he groaned.

“What’s going on?” I asked softly. “Why are you pulling away right now?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

“Had sex?” I arched an eyebrow, knowing for a fact that was completely false.

“No. Not that.” His eyes searched mine. “After tonight, I’ve shared more with you than I’ve shared with any other girl. I’ve-I’ve never had a real relationship. At the risk of sounding like a total loser, I’ve never done this with a girl I like as much as you. It feels…heavy.”

His admittance sucked the air right out of my lungs.

“Heavy,” I repeated.

“That sounds so fucking stupid,” he grunted. “Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

I thought about all the times Oliver had taken a serious moment and turned it into a joke, or when we’d try to have a deeper conversation and he’d brush it off. He never seemed to feel anything beyond the surface. Somehow, even sex with me had become another extension of that.

Maybe I should have felt insulted by his hesitation to take the next step with me, or maybe I should have been worried that the moment it was over, he’d ghost me and become nothing more than a memory. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel either of those things. Instead, I felt oddly privileged—thrilled, even, that somehow, I’d gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had.

I thought carefully about what to say next.