Pay to Touch

"Handholding. Kissing. Hugging. Every time you let me touch you, I pay." Months later he'd wake up hungover and kiss me until my ears rang. I'd shove at his chest and get nowhere.

And I'd hear myself ask it: "Julian. Are you short on money again?" But the first time, I just held up my phone with the Venmo screen open and pushed it into his face.

His first love had dumped him the week before. His father's company had gone under. His father had gone with it. He was out of options and out of money.

And I wanted him so much I couldn't sit still. In the beginning I was the one chasing him. Then I stopped chasing. And he wouldn't let me go. Chapter 1 I turned my phone around.

The Venmo screen, open, an inch from his face. "Handholding, kissing, hugging. One touch, one payment." "I won't ask for more than that. Three months.

If it's still nothing by then, we're done." Julian didn't move.

Somewhere behind him a radiator ticked. "You can say no right now," I said. "I'm not taking the money back." Genevieve Hale left him first.

His family went under, and inside a week she was on a plane out of the country with a trustfund kid, and she broke up with him by text from the gate. He took it hard.

Hard enough to fall on a flat sidewalk and split his forehead open. I bought a gift basket the size of a toddler and went straight to his apartment.

He opened the door with a bandage taped over one eyebrow. His face didn't do anything at all. He looked down at the basket by my feet. His eyelid twitched, just once.

Then he took it and stepped aside to let me in. "Julian." I was trying for gentle. "Don't be too sad." "Mm." There was a cup of instant ramen on his desk, the lid peeled back, the fork still in it. "That's what you're eating?" He sat back down. "It's fine for now." Next to the ramen sat his résumé.

His laptop was open to a job board. The bank had taken the house. He'd been living on this for months and never once said so.

I reached over and took his hand. "Let me take care of you." Julian lifted his head. He looked at me for a long time. Nothing on his face moved.

My face went hot. "The thing is," I said, quieter, "I've always liked you." His brow lifted. He didn't answer. I waited. "Wren." He said my name, and my stomach dropped.

Then his phone buzzed on the desk between us, face up, and the notification slid across the screen. The bank. Another collections notice. We both saw it.

That was when I opened Venmo. He'd think I was insulting him. He'd think I was disgusting. Julian looked at me for a long time. He didn't reach for the phone. "Handholding.

Kissing. Hugging." He counted them off, flat, like a man reading terms back to a lawyer. "Those three. Nothing else." His eyes came up. "Three months.

I'm not renewing." Then his mouth tipped, barely, and he said yes. I didn't sleep that night. I petted my cat until her ears went flat and she stalked off.

I finally had a reason to touch him. I had wanted that since I was a teenager. Our first Valentine's Day I asked him out, and he saw straight through why, and came anyway.

He'd lost weight. His friends said Genevieve leaving had wrecked him.

I was sorry about that, and I was glad about it, because if she hadn't left I would never have gotten close enough to smell his soap. Terrible. I know what I am.

The first time I took his hand on the street, he frowned. His hand went stiff in mine. He did not pull it back. It took him a long time not to. His palm was dry and warm.

His fingers were long, and stronger than they looked. Twenty days earlier I wouldn't have dared imagine it. Couples went past us holding hands like it cost nothing.

The movie let out late. He walked me home. The light in the lobby was very bright. He didn't leave. He stood there, looking down at me. Like he was waiting for me to name a price.

I got out my phone. My thumb hovered over the button. Chapter 2 He wasn't moving.

So I panicked and said it. "Can I kiss you?" There it was again, that look, one brow going up, and something in my chest turned over. I had my phone out before he could speak.

I sent the money, then held the screen up so he could see it had gone through. Julian bent toward me without a word. My heart stopped. Then he went still. His brows drew together.

He was going to change his mind. I got up on my toes and kissed him first. My face burned. It took me a while to look at him. I'd assumed he'd be at least a little embarrassed.

He wasn't. He looked like nothing had happened at all. Right. A transaction. "I'm going," he said. I nodded.

Then, "Wait." I'd been carrying his Valentine's present around all night. A Gucci belt, just under a grand. Julian took the bag.

He didn't open it. "Thanks." I got all the way to the corner before I looked back. He was still standing where I'd left him, head down, turning over the price tag.

We were together now, which changed nothing. He didn't text unless I texted first. His replies came in under ten words and never wasted a comma. Push it too far and he'd send: Wren.

Don't you have anything better to do? I said: correct, nothing at all, come to my place after work, I'll cook. He said: I'll eat downstairs at the office.

I said: I'm a good cook, I swear, tell me what you want. And then: a few more dates and you'll have made your month's salary.

Something in that last one got to him, because he wrote back: I'll come after work. I ran to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Everything in it was food he liked.

He showed up at seven in a black hoodie and jeans, still built like a college student. "Sorry.

Traffic." Then he saw the men's slippers by the door and stopped. "I bought them for you," I said, sweet as I could. "They're new." He looked at the slippers. Then at me.

He didn't say anything. He put them on. Over dinner I brought up the idea sideways. "Where you live now is so far out. That commute has to be destroying you.

I'm fifteen minutes from your office. On a bike." After the foreclosure he'd been renting alone. This would save him money.

Also, if he didn't live with me, I could barely get to see him at all. And then how was I supposed to have him? Julian was looking at his phone screen.

His face went dark, the way weather goes dark. Then he looked up and smiled at me. "Okay." I sat there with my mouth open.

Later I opened my own phone and found Genevieve's story at the top of my feed. Morning light. Her trustfund boyfriend asleep facedown on a pillow. Caption: my big dumb baby.

That weekend, he actually moved in. He owned almost nothing. One backpack. One suitcase. That was the whole of Julian Vance. Fine.

I had everything. "Where am I sleeping?" He looked around the apartment. "The guest room's still full of junk." I showed him the bedroom instead, which I had cleaned twice. "You could stay with me.

My bed's big." Julian looked at the bed for a long time.

Long enough that I thought he was going to say yes. "Wren." He said my name the way he'd said it in his apartment, with the collections notice still lit on the desk between us.

Chapter 3 Plenty of room for two. Julian looked at me. He didn't say anything at all. "Fine." I got the key and opened the guest room and carried his suitcase in myself.

I had never in my life wished so hard that I lived in a onebedroom. "Lot of junk in here," he said. Not a question. I gave him my most pitiful face.

He let it go and started unpacking. Julian Vance, in my apartment. Julian Vance, my boyfriend. I had three months. I intended to spend every hour of them.

I used to sleep until noon. Now I was up before seven, trailing him around the sink while he brushed his teeth, hanging off his neck until he gave me a cold minty kiss.

He hadn't adjusted. He stood there with his jaw set, enduring it, his tongue stiff. Like being licked by a dog that belongs to someone else. It felt like a crime.

Three minutes a day, and I did the full sentence every time. What I didn't see, because I had my eyes shut: the hand he kept braced on the counter.

The knuckles stayed white the whole time. One morning I got too invested and went over. His throat worked. He shoved me back and wiped his mouth. "Wren.

How many boyfriends have you had? You're good at that." Was that a compliment? I'd learned it all on him. Two weeks down. Two and a half months left on the contract.

He was still miles away. He never once reached for me first. I wasn't discouraged. He'd lost everything in a year. Of course he was quiet.

I dressed him in designer streetwear until he looked exactly like the boy he used to be.

When it rained I waited outside his office, because no one gets a car in that weather and he'd be starving by the time he got home. Why not wait inside.

Because he'd said it once, plainly: "I'd rather my coworkers didn't see you." The rain came down hard that night.

I stood across the street and watched him come out through the glass doors, laughing at something one of them said. He didn't look over.

I moved the umbrella behind my back, in case he looked over and was embarrassed to see me there. Late that night I got up for water and found him in the kitchen making coffee.

His laptop was still open in the other room. I asked why he wasn't asleep. He pressed two fingers between his brows. "Project.

Client wants it yesterday." That was the first time I actually felt the weight sitting on him. Right before he graduated, his father's business came apart.

The partner took the money and ran. The lot they'd bought never got its zoning permit, so it sat there, dead ground, with a lawsuit attached.

His father flew to South Africa to chase down what he could. A prepschool golden boy with a clear road in front of him. Now: debt, and a father he couldn't say when he'd see again.

I put my head on the table and fought my eyelids. "I'll stay up with you." He almost smiled. "You feel sorry for me?" I shook my head. "You're incredible.

You're better now than you were before. I really, really like you." The almostsmile went away. He didn't answer. I fell asleep sometime after two. I woke up in my own bed.

Nobody carried me anywhere. He'd shaken me awake in the doorway and I walked there myself. Slowly, something in him gave. When I kissed him he started cupping the back of my head.

He stopped bracing against my hand on the street. Once a crowd nearly pulled us apart and he closed his fist around my fingers and reeled me back in.

On my birthday he asked what I wanted. I went red and asked if I could touch his abs. His mouth twitched. "No." Oh. Okay. I started to pull my hand back.

He caught my wrist and pulled it in again. "Not the abs." He bent down. "Something else." Chapter 4 I was disappointed for about a second. "Oh.

A kiss, then." I was sure he'd say no. "Okay," Julian said.

I blinked. "You're not charging?" He hooked an arm around my waist and put his lips against my cheek. "No charge." Extremely lazy work.

Although he did touch my waist, so I came out ahead. We had dinner by candlelight, and the light was doing something unfair to his face, and I climbed into his lap and kissed him.

Julian went still. Then his mouth opened under mine. By the end of it I was hot everywhere. So was the thigh under me. He wasn't moving. He wasn't stopping me either.

Overtime bills at double. I made myself pull back. His eyes were wet. His mouth was red. And he was, for some reason I could not have named at the time, furious. Brows down.

Staring at me like I'd stolen something. Things were going well. Which is when his exgirlfriend came home. The first thing Genevieve Hale did was not call Julian.

She waited downstairs at my building. One look and I knew what she wanted. I turned to go. She said one sentence to my back.

And it went straight through me. "I heard about your arrangement with Julian." I stopped.

She walked toward me, unhurried, in that expensive coat. "You couldn't have him, so you bought him. What does that make him?" I didn't say anything. "He doesn't like you.

You understand that.

What you're doing is forcing him." She tilted her head. "If it weren't about getting back at me, do you really think he'd have said yes?" My face went hot in the cold.

I stood there. I went home and sat in the dark for a long time, taking myself apart. If you have to force it, is it still the thing you wanted? She was his first.

I know exactly how much he loved her. When she left, he drank until they admitted him to a hospital. Honestly? I envy her. Even now, the person he wants is her.

So I started stepping back. No more taking his hand. No more kissing him. There wasn't much point anyway. He'd said yes in the first place because he needed money.

And a few weeks ago the news came in from his father: they found the partner, they clawed the money back, and the dead lot got rezoned and turned into the most wanted parcel in the county.

Solved. All of it. Now he just had to wait out the three months and end it. Seven in the morning.

My body had learned the hour and woke me up whether I wanted it or not, so I dragged myself out of bed and brushed my teeth two feet behind him, the way I always did. I finished.

Julian was standing beside me. Waiting for something. "What?" I said. He pressed his lips together, turned around, and went to get dressed.

That night I lay on the couch and watched the clock. I used to wait up no matter how late it was, so I could throw myself at him the second he came through the door.

I loved how much taller he was. It made me feel small in a good way. I have no idea whether he felt anything. He probably prefers tall women. Genevieve is five foot eight.

He came in at eight. I yawned and stayed where I was. "More overtime.

Have you eaten?" There was a pause before he said, "I ate." I said oh, and I didn't get up, and I didn't hold him. He stayed in the entryway with his coat still on for a long time.

Three months. A few days left of it. And on the last one, he'd be free to go. Chapter 5 "There's cantaloupe on the table," I said. He nodded, took off his coat, and went to shower.

Men shower fast. He was out in ten minutes, still steaming, and he had done something unforgivable: the top buttons of his pajama shirt weren't done. Collarbone.

A hand's width of chest. I forgot how to blink.

He came toward me, towel in his hair, and speared a piece of cantaloupe off the coffee table. "New body wash," he said. "Citrus." Which was, in fact, delicious. "Have you showered yet?" Afraid of what I might do, I nodded at nothing in particular, got up, and fled to my room.

This is a lot to ask of a person. You have to understand that in high school I used to say I'd get into Harvard, or get into him. One of the two.

That weekend we went to the amusement park. It was packed. He reached over and took my hand like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

I went rigid and dropped it like it burned. Julian frowned. "I'm not buying anymore," I said. His hand stopped in midair. "What?" "Handholding. Kissing.

Hugging." I counted them off for him, one by one, the way he'd counted them off for me. "I'm not buying anymore." Which meant: let's keep some distance.

His family didn't need the money now. And, honestly, I didn't have much of it. My mother had frozen the transfer from my trust that month and told me it was time I earned something.

Celibacy: mandatory. Julian's face went dark. He held his hand out there for another two seconds, palm up, waiting. I didn't put mine in it. He slid it, slowly, into his pocket. Mr.

Vance was flying home soon. That was when Julian got sick. He'd been running on nothing for weeks, and on top of the project his boss kept dragging him out to entertain clients.

He called me one night from the lounge downtown with liquor in his voice. I drove over. He leaned his whole height into me and half onto the car.

Drunk, his eyes go wet and dark and unfairly pretty. I was genuinely worried his boss was going to make a move on him. "Vance has been working himself to death.

We only landed that contract because of him." She handed me his coat, friendly enough. "Take him home.

Tell him not to come in tomorrow." I said thank you, got him into the back seat with the help of her assistant, and drove.

Hauling six feet of him into the elevator nearly finished me. I was still catching my breath when he put his mouth near my ear. "Wren.

Why don't you grow?" So he does think I'm short. "That's not short," I said. "That's petite." He laughed, once, into my hair. I got him onto the bed.

His face had gone gray, and there was sweat on his forehead, and the thermometer said 100.8. Fever. His brows were pulled tight. He was saying something. I leaned in. Great.

He was calling for his mother. She died when he was small. I barely remember her face.

I patted his very handsome cheek. "Mommy loves you." I spent the whole night being somebody's mother. Pills. A cool cloth. A dry shirt.

He needed the bathroom twice and wouldn't let me watch, so I propped him against the wall, went out, covered my ears, and prayed to God he didn't fall.

How much did they pour into this man. Young bodies bounce back. By morning he was mostly fine. He can't stand being unclean, so the second he could stand he went and showered.

I made him a bowl of soup, half asleep on my feet, planning to crawl into bed the moment he finished. The bathroom door opened. He didn't go to the table.

He walked straight to me, hair still dripping. "Wren." He bent down. "Open your mouth." Chapter 6 "I switched toothpaste today," Julian said. I stared at him.

He put a hand on my head. His hair was still wet. He smelled like citrus, and under it, something else. He leaned in and kissed me. Slowly.

Like he had been planning it in the shower. Oh. Grapefruit. Sweet.

I thought about it for three full seconds and arrived at the answer. "Are you short on money again?" His mouth twitched.

He looked at me like I was the stupidest thing he had ever agreed to. Genevieve and the trustfund kid broke up. From what I heard, it was ugly.

Not every man with money is like Julian, willing to take her seriously. He must have heard too. For days he'd been off, distracted, checking his phone every few minutes.

Sometimes he stepped outside to take a call where I couldn't hear. I asked, lightly, like I didn't care: "Who is it?" Julian shook his head and said nothing. He doesn't like to lie.

That afternoon a friend messaged me. He'd seen Julian with Genevieve near The Peninsula. Were they back together? Good question. I'd love to know.

The Peninsula isn't far from my building. I was there in ten minutes. I got there in time to watch him walk her to the door. She looked wrecked. They said something to each other.

Then she turned and put her arms around his waist. His back was to me. I couldn't see his face. It was probably very gentle. Lucky girl. She gets held for free. And he means it.

Three months, nearly up. He'd made his choice. That night Julian came home and my fat orange tabby wound around his ankles until he bent and scooped her up.

His phone was facedown on the coffee table. The screen lit. Over the cat's head, at that distance, I could still read the name. Genevieve.

That cat will not stay in my arms for three seconds. In his, she went boneless, like a bride