Page 51 of Scoring Chances

We make our way through the quiet house and to the back patio. Stepping out into the sand.

I grab two towels that are hanging off the railing from earlier and motion for her to come with me. We walk in silence. Just like we did on our way home from the bar. And when we find a spot that looks good, I set out both towels and kick off my shoes.

She sits on the towel next to me and does the same, abandoning her sandals.

“So,” I say, turning to her.

She brings her knees up and looks at me, cheek pressed against them.

“I’ve taught you how to dress. How to dance and how to kiss. What else do you want to know?”

She swallows hard and looks out onto the ocean.

“Why did you sleep with her?”

Not the answer I was hoping for.

“By her do you mean…”

“The other nanny. Why did you sleep with her?”

Because I’m an asshole that doesn’t think of consequences.

I shrug.“I don’t know. She wanted to. So I did.”

She leans back on her hands. Her chest open and throws her head back.

“Is that just what you do? A girl wants it so you give it to her?”

“I mean… no. I’m not a gigolo. I like to sleep with women I’m attracted to.”

“And you just so happened to be attracted to many women.”

“Cassidy,” I sigh. “What are you getting at here? Are slut-shaming me?” I cock my head at her.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I guess I'm wondering… what makes me any different? From the others?”

“Because you want to sleep with me?” I ask.

She covers her face with her hands. “And I hate myself for it.”

And I hate myself for making her feel like she’s anything like the others.

She’s not.

And I have no way of letting her know that. Unless… “I won’t sleep with you, Cassidy.”

She looks over at me. “What?”

“I don’t ever want you to think that all I want from you is sex. I’d rather we never touch each other again, than to live knowing that you think you’re just another number.”

She’s watching the waves softly slosh against the shore.

“That’s the messed up part, isn’t it?” she says, eyes still on the waves. She turns her neck so that she meets my gaze. “I want you. And you won’t have me.”

“Because I really like you,” I admit. “And you deserve better. You deserve to be with someone who sees you, only you, and doesn’t need anything else.”

“And that’s not you,” she says like a statement.