Page 30 of Teach Me How

His brow furrows. “Fun?”

“Yeah, fun.” I wave my hand breezily before meeting his gaze. “Thanks for being cool about that whole… freak out.”

His expression softens. “Of course.”

“I don’t want that to happen in front of the next guy.”

He’s frowning again. “The next guy shouldn’t care. I didn’t.”

This is where I would usually let the men in my life act like my gurus. They’re older than me. My brother. His friends. My dad. I’ve always deferred to their experience.

But last time I checked, none of these assholes have experienced being female.

20.

Skyler

I do not want to hear Reese talk about the next guy.

I do not want to hear her reduce what we shared last night into one small, sticky word.

Fun.

Is that what that was?

I would have said mind-bending. World-shifting.

But, yeah. Okay. Let’s call it fun.

Let’s just not talk about the next guy while I’m still sitting here.

That’s just insulting.

She turns her coffee mug one way, and then back the other way, obviously gathering her thoughts. No doubt thinking of new and exciting ways to put me in my place. This ought to be good.

“I know you’re trying to be supportive, and I really appreciate that. But I need you to just listen. I’m still working my way through all this, so I probably won’t say it right, but I’m going to try.” She peers up at me. “There’s a power dynamic in bed. Men have it, women don’t.”

“I beg to differ.”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Skyler.”

“Sorry. I’m listening.”

“I’m just telling you my side of things. You don’t get to mansplain my point of view. I’m telling you I feel a power difference.”

“Between you and me?”

“No.” She sighs, exasperated. “But that’s different. I trust you. I can be vulnerable and honest with you and still feel safe. It won’t always be like that.”

My heart twists at that statement, anger and sadness lacing through the veins. I want to tell her not to sleep with someone she can’t be open and honest with, but it’s not my turn to speak. My impulse is to scoop her up and fix things for her, but that’s not what she wants.

She fiddles with her mug. “I don’t want to miss out on good experiences just because I’m afraid of what could go wrong. But that’s why I want to go out there armed and ready.”

“Armed and ready?”

She meets my gaze. “I want to know what I’m doing. In bed.”

When she puts it like that, I can’t really argue. “Okay.”