Ben's car turns off the dojang's parking lot and joins the vehicles crawling along the congested highway.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay at your place?" Ben's wearing the sweatsuit I'm used to seeing him in at the store in.

"I'd rather be away from anything that can remind me of school. I need a university-free night." The heaviness of the rejection letters settles in the center of my chest. I didn't want to admit even to myself how much I wanted to get in, but I did. I do. We usually stay at my place Monday nights, but the tiny black spot of blackness that appeared in the morning is growing. If I'm drowning in feelings, I'd much rather those are the waves of passion from Ben's touch than the bitter self-loathing.

His apartment holds nothing to take my mind back to thinking I'm a failure, but my mind circles back to each point of the day that proved I'm not as capable as I had hopes to be. I need to turn off my brain. I twist to grab Ben by his shirt and drag him into his bedroom. As if he knows I need not to think, Ben flips the switch inside me like only he can. My body takes over and turns my mind off. The world where my cells sing under his touch, and my only focus is us. Together.

Ben's gliding above me, and I'm so close. His panting breaths over my shoulder tell me he probably is, too. We remove our hands, and it's skin on skin. He has to be closer. We must be one.. I arch up and open myself to him. He pushes me down on the sheets, and I feel him come undone on my stomach. He hovers over me on his elbows, his chest touches mine as he breathes. I feel tears burning in my eyes.

"Sorry, you didn't finish. Let me help you." He moves to his side and reaches down with his hand, but I roll away from under him, smearing stuff on his precious sheets, and stomp over to the bathroom to turn the shower on for the second time that evening. I don't want to get my hair wet when I'm there to clean off my stomach, but I don't want to be back out more. The hot water fogs up the glass, and I retreat into myself. I can't even make a guy finish inside me. I'm crying angry tears. Even here I'm incapable. A failure. Nothing I do is right. I scrub at my skin as if my outer layer is responsible for what I didn't get. What am I doing?

Ben opens the door into the shower and steps in.

"Tell me what I did wrong this time, so I can apologize."

"I don't need your apologies. I've told you that before. And it's not what you did. It's what you didn't do."

"I thought I'd take care of you, but you ran off."

"That's not what I'm talking about. I can't keep beating around the bush."

"Good. You know I hate that. Tell me what's going on."

"I want to have sex with you."

"We are having sex." He puts his hand on the curve between my neck and shoulder. The shower water hits his forearm and sprays between us.

"Not all the way." I shrug off his hand and step back, till my shoulder blades touch the white tile of the shower wall. I let my frustration out through my words. "I don't understand what's holding you back. You let me touch you with my hands and my mouth and you can't get enough of it. You know every nook and cranny of my body and have no problems using your fingers inside me, but PIV is not on the table?"

"PIV?"

"Penis in Vagina, Ben." I turn off the water. We are wet and naked in the shower stall, and I care about none of it.

"It's not off the table." He steps closer.

I have no place to go but out, if I want to avoid him touching me again. I slide past him, my hip brushing against his arm, and come out of the shower. "So, what are we waiting for?" My back is to him and I reach for a towel.

"It feels permanent to me." He touches my damp shoulder and turns me to face him.

Permanent? Nothing about our arrangement is permanent. "I'm not asking you to get a tattoo on your penis—that would be permanent."

"Ssss, you saying that makes my balls withdraw into my body." He cringes and hands me my towel.

"What d'you mean by permanent, then? I want to understand what's in your head. Tell me."

He runs his hand up and down my arm. "It will permanently change me."

"What we've been doing over the last month hasn't changed you? It's all sex."

"I get it, I do. And you must know I want to do it all." Ben sighs.

"But?"

He lets go of me and moves his eyes around the bathroom, then grabs his head with both hands and shakes it. "I want it to mean something."

Mean what? It's two bodies in close contact. Sex never meant anything to me. It's just physical. What is he trying to make it be?

"Are you saving yourself for marriage? And I respect that if you do, you've never told me about it."

"No, not for marriage, but the sentiment remains. I have waited for it for so long. I need it to be more—a commitment, a promise of something more serious?"

I wrap the towel around me. Commitment. Serious. This is not what we talked about. "Not interested in having fun and enjoying each other anymore? You need serious?"

"Why can't it be both?"

"Cause that's when one of us gets hurt. I've never promised you more than the present. That's what I have to give. And I really, really like you. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone before. Can't that be enough?"

Ben tugs me to him, kisses my forehead, and hugs me closer. I let him. "It'll never be enough, because I have always wanted all of you,"

"That's what I want too, for you to take all of me and not feel like I'm pushing you again."

"You are pushing me, but maybe that's what I needed to hear. Let's do it."

"What are we talking about?"

"Penis in the vagina. I want it all."