CHAPTER 6 : The Proposition
1754 Words
==Elliot==
“...Yes.”
The word slipped out before I could catch it.
Too fast. Too easy.
Like my mouth had made the decision without waiting for the rest of me to catch up.
Del didn’t move right away.
Her hand was still at my back. Warm. Steady. Like she knew exactly what she was doing just by standing there.
“You should think about that,” she said.
“I have.”
That wasn’t true. Not really.
Her eyes narrowed just slightly. Not suspicious, more like she was measuring something.
“No,” she said quietly. “You reacted. That’s different.”
I swallowed. My throat felt dry all of a sudden.
“Then explain it,” I said. “Properly.”
She pulled her hand away.
The absence hit harder than I expected.
Cold air filled the space where she’d been touching me, and I had the strange, sharp urge to pull her back.
But she stepped further away instead.
Creating distance.
Control.
“I’m offering to teach you,” she said. “Not just technically. Not like a manual. I mean… awareness. How to read someone. How to respond. How to understand what’s happening between two people.”
Her voice stayed calm, but there was something under it. Something tighter.
Careful.
“And this is…” I hesitated. “What? Practice?”
A small smile tugged at her lips.
“If you want to reduce it to that.”
“I’m trying to understand what you get out of it.”
“That matters to you?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She nodded once. “It should.”
She shifted her weight slightly, crossing her arms, not defensive. Just… contained.
“I get to teach someone who actually wants to learn,” she said. “Someone who pays attention.”
“That can’t be all.”
“It’s not.” Her gaze held mine. “But it’s enough to start with.”
I exhaled slowly.
There was something she wasn’t saying. I could feel it. Sitting just beneath the surface of every word.
“You said you were attracted to me.”
“I am.”
“No hesitation?”
“None.”
The way she said it, flat, certain, sent a sharp jolt through my chest.
“Then I don’t want this to feel like a lesson,” I said.
Her head tilted slightly. “What do you want it to feel like?”
I hesitated.
Because saying it out loud made it real.
“I want you,” I said finally.
Not polished. Not careful.
Just true.
Something flickered in her expression. Gone almost immediately.
“Elliot…”
“I know,” I cut in. “I know how this sounds. I know I don’t have experience and you…” I let out a short breath. “You could pick anyone. This isn’t exactly a fair exchange.”
“You think this is about fairness?”
“I think it’s about reality.”
“And what reality is that?”
“That I’m not what you’d usually go for.”
She stared at me for a long second.
Then, softer this time…“You don’t know what I usually go for.”
Silence stretched between us.
Thick. Charged.
I braced myself for the no.
For the polite version of rejection.
Instead…
“Okay.”
I blinked. “...Okay?”
“Yes.”
The word landed slowly. Like it needed time to settle into place.
“You’re agreeing?” I asked.
“I’m agreeing that this isn’t just instructional.” She took a step closer again, closing some of the distance she’d created. “I meant what I said. I’m attracted to you.”
Something tight in my chest loosened.
Then tightened again, sharper.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted.
“I know.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.” Her lips curved slightly. “It’s honest.”
I huffed out a breath.
“Then where do we start?”
“Here.”
She gestured lightly between us.
“Before anything else, we set rules.”
“Rules,” I repeated.
“Boundaries. Expectations. Things we don’t cross without talking first.”
That made sense.
More sense than anything else happening right now.
“Alright,” I said. “You go first.”
She studied me for a second, like she was deciding how much to say.
“I don’t push past hesitation,” she said. “If you pause, I stop. If you’re unsure, we don’t move forward until you’re not.”
“Okay.”
“And you don’t pretend to be fine when you’re not.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You might.” Her gaze sharpened. “People do, when they don’t want to disappoint.”
That hit a little too close.
“I’ll tell you,” I said.
“Good.”
A beat passed.
Then another.
The air felt heavier now. Not uncomfortable, just… loaded.
“What about you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“Same rules?”
“Same rules.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair.
“This feels…” I trailed off.
“Strange?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I frowned. “Good?”
“It means you’re aware. That you’re not just rushing into something because it feels good in the moment.”
She stepped closer again.
Not touching this time.
Just near enough that I could feel the shift.
“Awareness matters more than confidence,” she added.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Not really.”
I glanced at her. “You don’t seem unsure about anything.”
“That’s because I’ve already thought through my part.”
“And I haven’t.”
“Not yet.”
Her voice dropped slightly.
“But you will.”
A slow tension coiled tighter in my chest.
“What if I mess it up?” I asked.
“You will.”
I blinked.
She smiled, faint, but real.
“And then you’ll learn from it.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be. It’s real.”
I let out a breath, shaking my head slightly.
“You’re very calm about this.”
“Someone has to be.”
That almost made me laugh.
Almost.
“And what exactly am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Right now.”
“Right now?” She tilted her head slightly. “You tell me what you want.”
The question hit harder than expected.
Because I didn’t have a practiced answer.
No script.
Just instinct.
“I want to understand you,” I said slowly.
Her eyes flickered.
“Go on.”
“I want to know what makes you react. What changes in your expression. What you don’t say out loud.”
Something in her posture shifted.
Subtle. But there.
“That’s very specific,” she murmured.
“I don’t think I’d learn much just guessing.”
“No,” she agreed. “You wouldn’t.”
Another step closer.
Now there was barely any space left between us.
“Then we start there,” she said.
My pulse kicked up.
“How?”
“You pay attention.”
“To what?”
“Everything.”
Her gaze held mine for a second…
Then dropped.
Not far.
Just enough to make me aware of exactly where she was looking.
My breath hitched.
“You’re tense,” she noted.
“I’m trying not to be.”
“Don’t try.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“Just notice it.”
I swallowed.
Easier said than done.
Her hand lifted, slow enough that I saw it coming.
Slower still when it got close.
Like she was giving me time to stop her.
I didn’t.
Her fingers brushed lightly against my arm.
Barely there.
But enough.
“Still okay?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Say it properly.”
“I’m okay.”
She held my gaze another second…
Then let her hand fall away again.
The loss of contact felt sharper this time.
Intentional.
“You see that?” she said quietly.
“What?”
“You noticed when it stopped.”
I nodded.
“That matters.”
A pause.
Then…
“We don’t rush,” she added. “Not this.”
I let out a slow breath.
“Then when?”
“Not tonight.”
The answer came too quickly.
My chest tightened. “Why not?”
“Because you’re reacting, not choosing.”
“I am choosing.”
“Are you?”
Her tone wasn’t challenging.
Just… certain.
I hesitated.
That was answer enough.
She stepped back again, putting space between us.
“Give it time,” she said. “Think about it when you’re not standing this close to me. When you’re not caught up in it.”
“That’s going to be difficult.”
“I know.”
A faint smile again.
“That’s part of it.”
“How long?”
“Three days.”
“Three…” I stopped myself. “That’s excessive.”
“It’s necessary.”
“For who?”
“For you.”
I exhaled sharply.
“I already know what I want.”
“Then three days won’t change that.”
Her eyes held mine.
“But if it does,” she added, “then you’ll be glad you waited.”
That landed heavier than I expected.
“You’re serious about this,” I said.
“Completely.”
Another pause.
Then, quieter…
“When you show up,” she said, “it won’t be a question anymore.”
My throat tightened slightly.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you don’t.”
No pressure.
No push.
Just a door left open.
I ran a hand down the back of my neck.
“This feels like a test.”
“It’s not.”
“It feels like
one.”
“That’s because you’re not used to slowing down.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I hated that she wasn’t wrong.
“Three days,” I repeated.
“Three days.”
Silence settled between us again.
Different this time.
Not tense.
Not uncertain.
Just… waiting.
“Alright,” I said finally.
Her gaze softened, just a fraction.
“Alright,” she echoed.
And just like that…
It was decided.
Not rushed.
Not forced.
But somehow heavier than anything that could have happened tonight.
- Writer
