ones in the big hats. They look just like you.”
“They do not,” I protested.
“True story .” .
He continued to stare at me. “I think you look most like E llen Mary Cassatt with a Large Bow in her Hair.”
I could no longer contain a grin. “You seem to have done quite a bit of research on Mary Cassatt’s work.”
“And you seem to have lost a bet,” he said and grinned.
I still wasn’t sure what to make of Aaron. I didn’t like the a nswers he gave me about The Tournament but he seemed to be so sincere about his feelings towards me. How could he be both a womanizing asshole, and a guy, who seemed to truly care about me at the same time?
***
A aron suggested a small Chinese place a few blocks from campus. I had never really noticed it. Not that I didn’t like Chinese but the place was so tiny and nondescript, it didn’t register on my radar.
“They have dim sum,” Aaron said as we entered the resta urant.
“That sounds really good. I’m starving.”
Aaron laughed.
“What’s so funny,” I asked.
“You’re so tiny. It’s hard to image you ever starving.”
I grinned. “I think you’ll be surprised how much I can pack away.”
“Bring it on. I’m buying.”
The place only had about eight tables. Since it was Thursday and it was still fairly early, we had the whole place to ourselves. The hostess led us to a secluded corner table and we both sat down. She handed us menus and excused herself.
“I really like the shrimp dumplings and the ones with shiitake mushrooms,” Aaron suggested.
“You come here a lot?” I asked over my menu.
“I love Chinese food.”
“In that case, I’ll take your sage advice and go with the shrimp and the shiitake mushroom.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
After the waitress came to take our orders, Aaron looked at me with a serious expression. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Okay,” I said without really thinking about it. I immediately felt like I was headed down a road with him that I wasn’t 100 percent sure I wanted to travel.
“Why are you so sensitive about being touched?”
The question took me aback. It wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I actually didn’t know what I expected but that wasn’t it. Aaron waited patiently, watching me, as I carefully considered how much I wanted to reveal to him. The look in his eyes was so earnest, it put me at ease.
“I have personal boundaries,” I said. “People have to earn the right to touch me.”
He studied my face. Without taking his eyes from mine, he said, “Were you abused?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t but my best friend was.”
He was still looking at me intently. He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to continue.
“Jill was my best friend all through elementary and junior high school. Because we were both only children, we became as close as sisters. We were inseparable. When we were freshman in high school, Jill’s mom got remarried and not too long after her step-dad moved in he started molesting her. At first, he was touching her inappropriately. I begged Jill to talk to her mom. And when she did her mom didn’t believe her. Then Jill said her step-dad asked her to do things to him. Sexual things. She got scared but she didn’t know what to do. She felt like her relationship with her mom had been completely destroyed. By the time we started our sophomore year, Jill told me that her step-dad would sneak into her bedroom at night and force himself on her. I was finally able to convince Jill to tell our guidance counselor. Within 24 hours, she was placed in a foster home. Jill’s mom still refused to believe that her husband would do all of the things Jill said he did to her. Even when they presented her mom with physical evidence, she still didn’t believe Jill. Jill’s mom chose her husband over her daughter.
While Jill was in foster care, she was assigned to a psychoeducational group for kids, who had been molested. She
“They do not,” I protested.
“True story .” .
He continued to stare at me. “I think you look most like E llen Mary Cassatt with a Large Bow in her Hair.”
I could no longer contain a grin. “You seem to have done quite a bit of research on Mary Cassatt’s work.”
“And you seem to have lost a bet,” he said and grinned.
I still wasn’t sure what to make of Aaron. I didn’t like the a nswers he gave me about The Tournament but he seemed to be so sincere about his feelings towards me. How could he be both a womanizing asshole, and a guy, who seemed to truly care about me at the same time?
***
A aron suggested a small Chinese place a few blocks from campus. I had never really noticed it. Not that I didn’t like Chinese but the place was so tiny and nondescript, it didn’t register on my radar.
“They have dim sum,” Aaron said as we entered the resta urant.
“That sounds really good. I’m starving.”
Aaron laughed.
“What’s so funny,” I asked.
“You’re so tiny. It’s hard to image you ever starving.”
I grinned. “I think you’ll be surprised how much I can pack away.”
“Bring it on. I’m buying.”
The place only had about eight tables. Since it was Thursday and it was still fairly early, we had the whole place to ourselves. The hostess led us to a secluded corner table and we both sat down. She handed us menus and excused herself.
“I really like the shrimp dumplings and the ones with shiitake mushrooms,” Aaron suggested.
“You come here a lot?” I asked over my menu.
“I love Chinese food.”
“In that case, I’ll take your sage advice and go with the shrimp and the shiitake mushroom.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
After the waitress came to take our orders, Aaron looked at me with a serious expression. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Okay,” I said without really thinking about it. I immediately felt like I was headed down a road with him that I wasn’t 100 percent sure I wanted to travel.
“Why are you so sensitive about being touched?”
The question took me aback. It wasn’t what I was expecting at all. I actually didn’t know what I expected but that wasn’t it. Aaron waited patiently, watching me, as I carefully considered how much I wanted to reveal to him. The look in his eyes was so earnest, it put me at ease.
“I have personal boundaries,” I said. “People have to earn the right to touch me.”
He studied my face. Without taking his eyes from mine, he said, “Were you abused?”
I shook my head. “I wasn’t but my best friend was.”
He was still looking at me intently. He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to continue.
“Jill was my best friend all through elementary and junior high school. Because we were both only children, we became as close as sisters. We were inseparable. When we were freshman in high school, Jill’s mom got remarried and not too long after her step-dad moved in he started molesting her. At first, he was touching her inappropriately. I begged Jill to talk to her mom. And when she did her mom didn’t believe her. Then Jill said her step-dad asked her to do things to him. Sexual things. She got scared but she didn’t know what to do. She felt like her relationship with her mom had been completely destroyed. By the time we started our sophomore year, Jill told me that her step-dad would sneak into her bedroom at night and force himself on her. I was finally able to convince Jill to tell our guidance counselor. Within 24 hours, she was placed in a foster home. Jill’s mom still refused to believe that her husband would do all of the things Jill said he did to her. Even when they presented her mom with physical evidence, she still didn’t believe Jill. Jill’s mom chose her husband over her daughter.
While Jill was in foster care, she was assigned to a psychoeducational group for kids, who had been molested. She
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