Isabela

I haven't had any problems being alone with guys since I became an adult. I learned how to stand my ground, scare people off, and show them that it was either my way or no way at all. Maybe this harshness and need for control also drive men away. That's why I'm certain today I'll go all the way. I finally found a guy I won't get attached to, someone who immediately understood my issue with touch and was willing to try.
I still freeze when I'm touched without permission, but not like I did when I was a teenager. Things have changed since I was fifteen when I became aware that I was left traumatized by the abuse I suffered from my stepfather.
Now, I can clearly see the mistakes I made in my past relationships. I never had the courage to reveal my trauma upfront. I’d say I wanted to take things slow and that I liked showing how to touch me. I never disclosed from the start that I was messed up, that no one could touch me without supervision. So, when an ex would gradually discover the true extent of my problem, they’d dump me, and I’d always end up shattered.
After becoming an adult, Bill was the only exception, the only one I told everything to right away, but that was because I didn’t think we’d have anything.
I wish, deep down in my soul, that I could control this armor I wear to protect myself. But that’s exactly what it is—an armor. How do I tell my brain, scarred by years of abuse, that I don’t need to put up shields in front of people? How do I distinguish danger when I had enemies in my house since I was ten years old? As painful as it is, it’s still protection. Radical... I admit, but it still helps shield me from pain, even if it causes more suffering.
My heart is pounding so hard, I know I haven’t felt this nervous in years. It’s strange being led into Lobo’s room, hand in hand, feeling like a scared little girl. My eyes, wide with tension, scan the room. It’s a cozy room, with furniture in shades of gray, black, and white. His double bed is messy, with a dark comforter almost falling to the floor, books are disorganized on the shelf, and rock band posters decorate the walls. Everything gives such a youthful vibe to the place that I almost forget we’re two adults.
Lobo lets go of my hand, and strangely, I miss the warmth of his fingers on mine while simultaneously feeling relieved by his distance. I stand in front of the door that closed behind us, swallowing hard as he heads to the small stainless-steel mini-fridge under his desk.
"Water or beer?"
"Water, please!"
My legs are a little shaky. To avoid showing him even more of my nervousness, I walk unsteadily to his bed, sit down, and take a deep breath, accepting the bottle he hands me.
"What do you study?" he asks, taking off his jacket.
"Music."
"Why did you choose that course?" he asks, sitting on the stationary desk chair.
It looks like he stole that wide wooden chair from some fancy dining table. I glance at the black shelves above his head. I’m fascinated by the superhero Funko collection that decorates them. I give a small smile... It's cute.
"I’ve been passionate about music since I was little. I love singing, composing, and playing the piano or keyboard. I waited too long, took some detours in life, and now I’ve decided it’s time to let my dream come to life."
I give a shy smile, noticing how his eyes capture me in an unreal way. I swallow hard, feeling like not even all the water in the world could moisten my throat. He tilts his mouth in a smug smile.
"Got nervous, Little Red Riding Hood?"
I lie, shaking my head. He irritates me with a wide smile as he stretches out on the chair. That damn smile makes it clear he knows I’m lying.
And we keep staring at each other in silence while I focus on every detail of the “Big Bad Wolf’s” body. He’s so tall, and considering I’m 1.55m, I’m a little worried about whether something from the Wolf will even fit inside me. To be explicit: Can I even handle his dick?
"You’re an interesting and very beautiful woman, but I get the impression you have no idea of that," his compliment hits me like a punch, and despite the beauty in his words, they make tears well up in the corners of my eyes.
Flashbacks of moments when I looked in the mirror and all I saw was a strange, inadequate person, as ugly as my mother used to say, flood my mind. I don’t want to break in front of him, not because of this, because more meaningful things between us could make me crumble right in front of this man. I think I’d rather break because of what I came here for, because of what he can offer me, not because of stupid memories of what I believe about myself.
"And why did you choose Art?" I change the subject, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. "You also said you're a businessman. Is it related to what you study?"
Lobo shakes his head from side to side, looking disappointed, as if he expected me to say something else. He drinks his beer, staring back at me intensely as he takes a deep breath:
"I co-own a business in a field different from my studies. I study Art because I’ve always wanted to. It’s as simple as that. I admire all the ways people express their feelings, and I like to believe that art is exactly that: an expression of the deepest emotions. Some people pour their truths into song lyrics, others write entire stories filled with emotions, and some paint their soul with a layer of paint... That fascinates me."
"That’s beautiful!" I praise, holding his gaze. The passionate way he spoke about his field of study warmed my heart. "The way you see art is poetic."
"Are you enjoying studying here?"
"Well, it’s my first week, but I have to say it’s been more fascinating than I imagined. Who would’ve thought Rio would one day see something this original..."
"Yeah! It’s an innovative concept, right? And living here is an experience in itself."
I nod, watching his lips move. How can I be so wet for a man whose face I haven’t even fully seen? He could be anyone under that mask, and yet, I’m so crazy to get naked on top of him.