In six months, Gwen Johnston turns thirty, and when she does, she vows she'll have her life together. She'll no longer be jumping from one job to another, from one relationship to the next. A new, more mature, Gwen will have emerged. She's giving he...
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Somehow we get back into the truck in the morning without incident, but we're both pretending I didn't discover a very full sketchbook of erotic images staring me and her. I thought my imagination was good, but hers is much better. Much, much better. Detailed and sexy and so fucking hot.
If I'd thought I was having a hard time returning to completely platonic before seeing all that, it's damn near impossible now. I have so many questions, but every time I open my mouth to say anything, she tenses. Her body language screams "don't say a single word".
A smarter plan last night would have been to close the sketchbook, leave it on the bed of the hotel room, and never utter a word. Perhaps sneak a peek once in a while to see whether she added to it.
But I was so surprised that I called her name after I looked at a couple, but before I thought through her reaction. She's usually so brazen, as though nothing bothers her. Yesterday, to have her genuinely scared at the haunted house and then absolutely mortified by the book in my hands were new emotions to navigate.
After our conversation about keeping some of the rules, I'd wondered whether this growing attraction was mutual. The sexual awareness that was there between us initially could have disappeared with familiarity—at least for her. Sometimes that happens. Not in this case.
How does someone even broach a conversation about what I saw? So ... those sketches, huh? As an opening, it's not stellar, but I'm also not sure if I should nudge her to explain or discuss them. While I definitely flirted with the idea of pursuing her beyond the platonic relationship we've been nurturing, and those sketches did not help my resolve, now that the initial euphoria of finding her again has worn off, it doesn't seem like a good idea to jump into a deeper relationship with her.
With the exception of Diana, I haven't been a long-term guy. The women I'm with are carefully selected to minimize attachments, and I already have this urge to be around Gwen, to study what makes her happy, to provide those things in abundance. I don't know what I might eventually want with her beyond this trip, but I can't be sure it will be nothing.
After my conversation with Herb, I'm even more determined to go back to the DRC. I broke down and read my work emails, and they need more qualified staff there. While Doctors International forced me into a leave, I can now acknowledge that I needed the break. I have no doubt I'll be ready to return by the end. Any hesitation I had at the start, when I was still overworked and exhausted, is gone.
Starting something with her would be irresponsible when the best I can offer is these few weeks on the road. Long distance with the type of job I have, and the level of commitment that job expects, would never work. Seems silly to risk the comfort level we've established between us for a fling.
As we head toward Toronto, I figure I should say something, anything to diffuse the tension between us.
"If we're going to travel together for the next two and a half months, I don't know if it's a good idea to—"
