Starlight Glow

I was out shopping for shoes with my best friends.

You know that rumor about well-endowed guys?

You mean, like, eight inches?

Who could even handle that!

I was bent over, fumbling with the strap of a high heel, only half-listening.

Definitely not me, I chimed in. Three inches is my absolute max. Usually, one to two is perfect.

My friends went dead silent.

My boyfriend, who had apparently walked up behind me, was also silent.

What? Is it embarrassing that I can't walk in stilettos?

1.

It was the weekend, and Id dragged my two best friends, Sarah and Beth, to the mall to hunt for clothes. We were in the middle of trying on heels when their conversation drifted over to me.

"You know that thing they say about some guys?"

"Of course!"

"Is it true? Like, eight inches?"

"Totally. I heard it can be as long as your forearm!"

"Damn. Who could possibly handle that!"

I was bent over, trying to buckle a delicate strap, only catching bits and pieces. I added my two cents without thinking.

"No one, right? Three inches is my absolute max. Usually, one to two is perfect for me."

The two of them suddenly stopped talking.

I looked up, confused. "What's wrong?"

They exchanged a look.

"Joey, are you serious?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah."

I've barely worn heels my whole life. The super-high ones are a total non-starter.

They stared at me in disbelief.

"Uh, honey, I think you misheard," Beth said, leaning in. "We're talking about that."

"What 'that'?"

"You know," she waggled her eyebrows, "the other kind of inches."

I nodded. "Right. So am I."

Heel inches. What else would I be talking about?

They just gaped at me.

"Your standards are remarkably low," Sarah finally managed.

It's just a pair of shoes. Why do they have to be so judgy?

Remembering some of the hideous styles that used to be popular, I kept complaining.

"And I absolutely hate those super thick, chunky ones. They're just so ugly."

A blush crept up both of their necks.

"Well, ugly or not, they all kind of feel the same, right?"

"Yeah," Beth giggled. "As long as it gets the job done, who cares what it looks like?"

I shook my head vehemently.

"No way. It has to look good and feel good!"

They both froze.

"Hold on. How good can a one-inch-er possibly look? Or feel?"

I couldnt believe what I was hearing.

"What do you mean? A nice, slender one in a pale pink can be gorgeous. And it's practical and comfortable."

"Forget it," Sarah sighed dramatically. "Theres no explaining good taste to you."

Their expressions were a colorful mix of pity and confusion. I was about to laugh at them when I caught a reflection in the mirror. My boyfriend, Liam, was standing right behind me.

His face was a thundercloud.

What's his problem? Is being unable to wear high heels really that big of a deal?

2.

Liam had come to pick me up.

Today was our third anniversary. We had plans to see a movie and well, wed booked a hotel room.

After all this time, our physical contact had been limited to holding hands, hugging, and kissing. I hadnt gotten much further than that.

I was first drawn to him because he was such a gentleman. In a world of greasy pick-up artists, he was a breath of fresh, clean air. I just hadn't realized he was too much of a gentleman.

Three years, and I was still a virgin in this relationship, left to drool over his rock-hard abs from a distance.

It was, frankly, boring.

Id almost broken up with him over it a while back. Luckily, hed pulled back from the brink at the last second, saw the error of his ways, and promised we could finally move on to the next level.

After saying goodbye to my friends, Id lost all interest in shopping.

I grabbed Liams hand to lead him out of the store, but he didnt budge. His expression was dead serious.

"Joey, do you really not like anything in the six or seven-inch range?"

Do guys care about women's shoes now?

"Yeah, I don't. Not every girl does. It's normal."

"But why not?"

"It's uncomfortable."

"You've tried it?"

"Of course I have. I've tried four-inch, even five-inch ones. It's absolute torture. My limit is my limit. One inch is the most comfortable."

His face instantly darkened. His voice went cold.

"When was this?"

What was happening? Why did he care so much about this?

I thought for a moment.

"I don't know, since I started working, I guess. I've tried them on and off."

"In the three years we've been together, you've tried them?"

"Yes."

His fists clenched at his sides. He looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated rage.

"Joey, how could you behind my back? How could you do this to me?"

Wait, what?

I can't even try on high heels by myself now?

What century is this? Do I need his permission to decide how high my shoes are?

Now I was getting angry, too.

"What I do is my own business!" I retorted. "This is who I am! If you can't handle it, then maybe we shouldn't be together!"

Talk about ruining the mood. My anniversary excitement had completely evaporated.

I stormed off, leaving him there.

He just stood, frozen, his shoulders slumped as if he'd been dealt a fatal blow.

Was he for real?

I wasn't being unreasonable, was I?

This was clearly his problem. He needed to take a long, hard look at himself.

3.

What a boring, rigid man!

Maybe breaking up was for the best.

This was all so pointless.

The next morning, I woke up to a barrage of missed calls and over a hundred texts from Liam.

[Why aren't you answering?]

[You've decided to break up with me, haven't you?]

[You're the one who did something wrong, so why am I the one being punished?]

[Do you have any idea how much this hurts?]

[Does this kind of thing mean nothing to you?]

[How can you talk about it so casually?]

[Why would you do this to me?]

[You know how much I love you.]

[Open the door.]

[I'm outside your apartment.]

[Okay, you're right. It was my fault.]

[Just please don't ignore me.]

[I'm begging you.]

[Please open the door.]

[I'm losing my mind. The pain is unbearable.]

[I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gotten angry with you.]

[I'm the one who's wrong. It's my fault for being so boring.]

[I asked around. Everyone said I'm too old-fashioned and conservative, and that's why you did it.]

[I don't blame you anymore. I don't have the right to.]

[I'm useless.]

[I've thought it over. From now on, you can do whatever you want. Try as many as you want. I can accept it.]

[Just please don't leave me.]

Well, he certainly processed that quickly. And his apology seemed sincere.

Good.

I was satisfied.

Alright, we don't have to break up.

But wait, was he still outside my door?

I opened it and gasped.

Liam was sitting slumped against the wall, reeking of alcohol. The floor around him was littered with empty beer cans.

At the sound of the door, he slowly lifted his head.

His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he was about to shatter into a million pieces.

"Joey you're finally talking to me?"

Oh my god.

Had he been sitting there all night?

I quickly pulled him to his feet. He was limp, practically hanging off me, but his hands pressed me tightly against his chest.

His voice was a raw, broken whisper.

"Joey do you not love me anymore?"

Id never seen him this vulnerable. My heart felt like a fistful of wet cottonheavy and suffocating.

Damn it.

Why did I fight with him over something so stupid? Look what it did to him. And wed wasted a perfectly good anniversary night.

A wave of guilt washed over me.

I hugged him back.

"I still love you. Don't think crazy things."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad."

He held me even tighter, his voice catching.

"So we're not breaking up?"

A man who was normally so cool and composed, now begging me so humbly who could resist that?

My heart melted into a puddle.

I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Right. We're not breaking up."

He let out a shaky breath, then asked meekly, "Do I smell awful? Can I use your shower?"

Seeing him like a little broken puppy, I wanted to eat him alive.

And he was asking permission?

He could join me in the shower if he wanted.

4.

By the time he came out of the shower, I had a bowl of noodles ready for him.

They must have been terrible, because he just kept his head down and ate in silence.

"Is it that bad?"

He shook his head, a weak smile twitching at his lips.

"No. I was just thinking I didn't realize you were so experienced."

He must be talking about the high heels again.

I waved a dismissive hand.

"Oh, that's nothing. A few pairs here and there, its no big deal."

His smile became a little stiffer.

"And the experience was good?"

"Some were okay, some not so much. If they're too hard, they really hurt. But I think the most important thing is the size."

His knuckles whitened around his chopsticks. His voice dropped.

"So I guess you wouldn't like seven inches, then."

"Definitely not. That goes without saying. I'd run a mile at the sight of one. Terrifying."

His face went pale, and he ducked his head even lower.

Is he okay? Maybe he's hungover.

I told him to go rest in my bedroom for a bit.

After I cleaned up, I climbed into bed and snuggled into his arms, and we watched TV together. I loved these quiet moments with him. I could turn my head and see the sharp line of his jaw, his sexy Adam's apple.

So handsome.

My heart began to flutter.

I couldn't help myself. I pulled his head down and kissed him.

His eyelashes trembled, and he slowly closed his eyes.

The kiss started with me, but he quickly took control. My body grew softer, his breathing more ragged. I suddenly remembered what was supposed to happen last night, and my mind started to wander.

My fingers slyly slipped under his shirt, squeezing his firm abs.

"Babe," I whispered, "want to try now?"

His whole body went rigid.

He pushed me away in a panic.

"II just remembered I have a work report I haven't finished. I should go."

The click of the front door closing echoed in the room.

It took me a second to process.

Did I just get rejected?

What the hell? He was clearly turned on. He was totally into it. This made no sense.

Was he worried he wouldn't be at his best after not sleeping all night?

Okay, fine. I can understand that. A man's pride and all.

I was just being impatient.

There's always next time.

5.

We both got busy with work after that.

Soon, it was the holidays. We'd already agreed to spend it with my family so he could finally meet my parents and relatives.

Everyone loved him. They thought he was a great guygood character, good personality, a successful career. They felt I was in good hands.

So, a few days into the new year, my parents left for a three-day trip to visit relatives in the countryside, leaving the two of us alone in the house.

This was a golden opportunity.

It had been a while since Liam and I had done more than a quick kiss or hug. With the house to ourselves, I made a point of crawling into his bed every night.

The excuse was to watch movies and play games together.

The reality was that I had ulterior motives.

I would deliberately press against him, trying to make him lose control. But he would just grit his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead, and refuse to cross the line.

I had no idea what he was holding out for. Hed already promised we could take the next step!

On the last night before my parents were due back, I decided I couldn't wait any longer.

I opened a bottle of my dad's special herbal liqueur and challenged Liam to a drinking contest.

My real goal was to get him drunk.

The problem was, he didn't get drunk.

I did.

After just two glasses, I was dizzy and talking nonsense. He ended up carrying me to bed. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out. My heart was full of regret, but I was too far gone to get up.

I had a series of wild dreams.

In them, Liam and I were tangled together, lost in passion. He held my head in his hands, kissing me so hard I couldn't breathe. My lips were sealed, my lungs burning for air.

It felt so real that it was like I actually couldn't breathe.

I groggily opened my eyes and was instantly wide awake.

Liam was actually kissing me.

His body was scorching hot. His warm breath traveled from my lips down to my neck. His hand trembled as it traced the skin at my waist, his touch a mixture of restraint and desperation.

It suddenly clicked.

The drink we had tonight it was my dad's "special" liqueur. Was it an aphrodisiac?

This was the first time I'd ever seen him this out of control.

A thrill shot through me.

I dropped the act.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my body responding to his.

He froze.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, swirling with raw desire.

I gently kissed his eyelids.

"Liam"

That was all it took. He couldn't hold back anymore.

He captured my head again and crushed his lips to mine. Tangled breaths, burning skin, two people lost in chaos. As we kissed, my hand started to explore downwards.