A text at 2 AM is universally acknowledged as a booty call, but not so with Shawn. We had been texting since midnight because as much as he would like to believe he’s a morning person, we’re both night owls. It wasn’t anything too interesting, and by that I mean not anything romantic or sexual. It never is with Shawn. His 2 AM text wasn’t to ask to hook up with me. Instead, he wanted to cuddle.

Cuddling had not been an unusual occurrence for us, but about a month prior to this text, he said we probably shouldn’t do it anymore. So, I was ill prepared when he said he wanted to come over at that very moment to spend the night. With no other prospects in my dating life and it being Winter, I wasn’t exactly keeping up with things like shaving my legs. I also hadn’t showered in two days, which meant my hair was getting gross. My room was a mess with clothes on the floor and a cluster of Christmas presents that I hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet. I was tucked in bed hoping to fall asleep soon, but now Shawn wanted to cuddle and sleep over. It had been seven months since the last time he slept over.

Before he came, I told him that he had to promise not to kiss me. A few months ago, right after the last time we kissed, he told me about a girl he slept with over the summer that is still his friend. I realized I couldn’t be physically intimate with him if we were just going to be friends, so I promised him I wouldn’t kiss him anymore. However, I later stipulated that if he kissed me, I would kiss him back. Knowing that during cuddling tonight, I’d definitely be tempted to kiss him, I finally had to ask of him the thing I hadn’t been able to ask before. He said he would promise in person and was on his way.

It’s a certain kind of cruelty to only give a girl twenty minutes notice before arriving. I shoved all of my clothes in my closet, stripped naked, pulled my hair back, and took a six minute shower, which did involve shaving my legs. I made sure to put scented lotion on, but then struggled with what to wear. Sexy undies just in case? Pajama pants or shorts? I remembered I had shoved most of my clothes in the closet so finding anything suitable would be a challenge. I ultimately settled for comfort and went with the pants, so he wouldn’t think I was trying too hard to get sexy for him. I did wear a tank top without a bra, which is how he knows I usually sleep.

When he came into my apartment and followed me to my room, he deliberately smiled at me and said, “I promise not to kiss you.” It was said almost as a challenge, as if he was daring me to try to make him break his promise.

After he used my mouthwash and took off his sweater, we were in my bed both fully clothed with him still in jeans because he refused to borrow my shorts that fit him perfectly. I realized that shaving my legs had been pointless and I should have thrown on a pair of shorts. I snuggled with my back pressed against him and he wrapped his arm around me as our legs found a way to intertwine. Then we both exhaled the way you do when you know you can finally rest. I asked him if he was comfortable, and he said, “Too comfortable,” like it was both bad and good for us to be like this.

It was strangely too comfortable. Strange because we weren’t a couple, but often times acted like one. Strange because in the year and a half that we’ve been friends, we have kissed three times, and have done little else. A couple weeks after this night, we would go see a movie and afterward he would tell me matter-of-factly, “If there wasn’t an age difference, you’d be my girlfriend.”

I’m five years older than Shawn, which at first bothered me more than it bothered him. He says the reason we aren’t together is because it makes him uncomfortable that I’m older and am in a different part of my life. He’s in college, questioning his degree and lives at home. I’m in a master’s program and have my own apartment that I share with a roommate. He thinks I’m out of his league, which might be true, but we have far more in common than he thinks. I had never intended to fall for someone so much younger than me, but we got close through our friendship and developed this attraction toward each other. More importantly, we developed comfort and trust, two things that have been lacking from ninety percent of my dating history.

I’m a virgin, which has been a problem for many guys I’ve dated. My last ex-boyfriend had assured me when we first started going out that he would wait until I was ready. Five months into the relationship, he realized that I still didn’t want to sleep with him, so he changed the way he treated my body. My body became a means for him to be sexually satisfied despite how I felt. He broke all the trust and security we had spent time cultivating between us.

A year after that break-up, when Shawn and I had our first kiss, it was still incredibly difficult for me to let a guy intimately touch me without feeling violated. I remember how when we first kissed, he tried grabbing my boob, and I shoved his hand away. He immediately apologized and said he wouldn’t try it again. A week later, the night he ended up sleeping over, I took off my shirt and bra and he was set on only looking me in my eyes and would not touch my chest until I told him that he could. That was when I knew I trusted him. To this day, Shawn has not tried anything that I haven’t wanted him to do, and that means so much to me.

During the five months that lapsed between our second and third kiss, I had another violation of my body that happened on a bad date. I repeatedly told the guy no, and he repeatedly didn’t listen until I left his car crying and calling Shawn. After that incident, I didn’t want any guy touching me at all in any way. If a male coworker placed his hand on my shoulder, I would flinch. I didn’t want to hug any of the guys I knew, often not even shake their hands. I never got proper help, but then over a month later, the night of our third kiss, Shawn was cuddling with me in my bed, and I realized he was the first guy I let touch me since the incident. Not only was I allowing the physical contact, but I was happy and comfortable with it. I felt safe.

Now, a few months later, we were in my bed cuddling again, and I couldn’t fathom how easily our bodies sank into each other, not even on a comfort level, but also on an anatomical one. A few weeks later, when we would get tipsy and cuddle again, he’d tell me, “I’m sorry I’m so small,” to which I’d reply, “You’re the perfect size.” He is small, shorter than average, and skinny. I’m shorter, but I’m thicker than him because of my filled-out curves. Yet, when we cuddle, he can rest his head perfectly on the back of my shoulder, or I can have my head on his chest with one leg splayed over him, and it’s like we’re magnets that find the perfect spots to connect.

Throughout the night, we talked, and changed positions frequently. At one point, he tried to touch my feet, because he knows I hate that, so I tickled him, because I know it turns him on. Then we play wrestled for a few quick moments before I finally collapsed with half of my body on top of him, and facing away from his face so I wouldn’t kiss him. He had his hand on my back, and kept lowering it, but then brought it back up quickly, squeezing my shirt so that I could feel how strongly he was fighting himself. I squeezed the shoulder of his shirt in the same way until finally rolling away from him.

It wouldn’t take us long to be intertwined in some new position again. He stroked my arms and back with his hands and I rubbed his head. We took turns being the little spoon, and he didn’t know until that night that being the little spoon is actually nice. We shared my pillow and both tried to sleep facing each other but with enough distance between our faces, and I wondered if he snuck in peaks to watch me try to sleep just as I was doing to him.

He ended up leaving after a few hours, because he couldn’t fall asleep and had intended to wake up early the next day. We had a long goodbye, because neither of us wanted him to go. Hugging him at my door, he pressed his cheek against mine and asked something like, “You good?” meaning was I satisfied. I wasn’t and felt like I never could be. I wanted us to stay all night and all day with our bodies intermingled, feeling euphoric being so close to him. However, I smiled and nodded yes.

– Jasmine Serna