Page 27 of Oblivious

“You know what I mean.”

“Will I still want to kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely.” I give him a quick and gentle peck to prove it. “Will you still want me to?”

“I think so.” He holds my face in his hands. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this.”

“Me too.”

“Really? Because you seem calm about everything, while I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Do you want to know a secret?”

Fitz nods.

“I’m losing my mind too,butI’m trying to keep it together for you.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“You need me to be calm right now. You need me to be a rock for you, and I can do that.”

“Not a rock.”

“Oh?”

“A tree. You’re a sturdy tree with deep roots and branches that can hold me tight.”

“What does that make you?”

He shrugs. “I dunno.”

“I think you’re the buds.”

He strokes my cheeks and stares into my eyes. It feels like he’s silently begging me to explain.

“You’re scared and maybe a bit fragile right now, but soon you’re going to relax, accept this is real, and go with the flow. You’ll open and blossom like a beautiful flower.”

“Thatsoundsromantic.” Fitz’s eyes sparkle. “But…this whole opening and blossoming analogy sounds like you want to, you know.” His face goes red, diminishing his freckles a little. He has so many freckles. “And blossom is one of the ways a fruit tree pollinates, isn’t it? So…” He clears his throat. “We’re sort of having a birds and bees conversation. Or bees and bees. Or is it birds and birds?”

“You’re babbling.”

He sighs. “I know. But which would it be? Bees and bees or birds and birds?”

“No clue. I never understood the link between birds and bees and sex.”

“I guess they both have sex. But not with each other.”

I laugh loudly. “Obviously. Is this your way of telling me you didn’t like my metaphor?”

He presses his lips together and narrows his eyes. It’s his thinking face. I’ve seen it hundreds of times but never quite realised how adorable it makes him look.

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he decides. “But I didn’t fully understand it, and the links to sex were undeniable.”

“I think you just have a dirty mind,” I say, tickling him.

He laughs and wriggles, which does nothing to help my erection. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Idon’tnormally have sex on the brain. At all. Or rarely anyway, and certainly not since…” He bites his lip. “Not for at least eighteen months.”