After dinner, I raced back up to my computer to play Everquest with my guild. To my surprise, I found an email from Ace.

Wow, that was quick!

Barely making a squeak, I closed my bedroom door to avoid prying eyes. Sometimes Mom loved to check in on me to see what I was doing online, and I was certain she wouldn't understand.

All she'd have to do is see the word sex out of context and she'd blow it all out of proportion. The topic was more or less forbidden in our household apart from health concerns and scientific inquiry.

Pretty hopeless.

Even though Mom might have favored my asexuality, she sure as hell wouldn't tolerate me talking about it. Openly. With a man, no less. This was my one chance to learn from Ace and ask questions, so I couldn't let Mom mess it up.

My hands turned cold and clammy as I stared at the computer screen. One anchor stood out among a sea of crazy messages from my so-called friends.

"Eric Stevens," I murmured under my breath with a furrowed brow. "Sounds vaguely familiar."

My heart thudded insistently against my ribs and I took a deep breath. My stomach gave a little flip.

Why am I so nervous?

Stop that! What are you, twelve?

Platonic attraction made perfect sense to me. I had a few groups of friends of both genders at school. But I'd never want to be anything more than acquaintances, pals, or friends.

Aesthetic attraction seemed reasonable to me as well. Many times I'd seen guys like Jack the Jock at school rallies. Their chiseled beauty often gave me what I called 'the warm fuzzies'. Thanks to teenage hormones, even I went 'hot damn' (at least on the inside) at a nice pair of arms or a six-pack.

But that longing, admiration, or giddiness had never developed into any X-rated fantasies about them. I just admired certain physical traits.

I'd only ever experienced an emotional attraction with one guy, Bryan Johnson. For once in my life, my grandparents had been cool with me spending time with a guy my age because our families had known each other from church.

I'd never forgotten that moment when everything had clicked with Bryan. We'd fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Saturday get-togethers over Star Trek: The Next Generation had turned into board game evenings and then dating under supervision.

Even after seven years, we could walk and talk for hours about every topic imaginable. We were on the same wavelength about almost everything. Even my grandparents had thought we'd made the perfect couple.

Except for one thing. Despite all the warm fuzzies and us both being nigh inseparable, I'd never wanted to make our relationship physical.

Unfortunately, Bryan didn't agree. He wanted a real girlfriend. His words. Translation: he needed a girl who wanted more than cuddling on the sofa with Forrest Gump, The Crow, or The Shawshank Redemption.

Once he'd found Sarah, we'd drifted apart.

Sensual attraction remained an irritating mystery to me--a bit of a sore spot. I was touch averse with most people, even close friends or family members.

For years, my family had tried to socialize me to enjoy hugs or snuggles, but I was never that kid. It didn't mean that I loved my family any less. I just didn't express my affection or appreciation through touch.

If I met the right guy--you know, someone like Bryan--it'd be okay once I got to know him. But I'd need an emotional connection before I could be comfortable with another man's touch.

Psychologically? He must mean physiologically...

Reciprocated romantic attraction without sex--that remained my elusive Holy Grail. All through high school, I longed for a connection and belonging that didn't rely on a physical component. But it had to satisfy both parties, not just me. Otherwise, I was just being selfish.

That was my mistake with Bryan. I hadn't realized he was dissatisfied because I was so content.

The last two passages made me choke on my diet coke. I read it and re-read it to make sure I hadn't misunderstood.

What?! Hold the phone!

Do you mean to tell me that I can experience all that--levels zero to four--and still be asexual?

No way...

So what the hell did sexual attraction mean? When people said a guy or a girl was 'hot' or 'attractive', didn't they mean aesthetic attraction? Or possibly a deeper connection?

Because I always meant either one or the other.

Thank you, dear sexually repressed family. I'm both naive and clueless.

Had I been wrong all this time and never realized? Was that why people had one-night stands? They weren't broken. I was...

My definition of attraction differed from everyone else's.

Oh, gosh! Is Nicky right? Do I need help?

Hell, no, you don't. You just gotta think your way through the problem...

If sexuality could exist without romance for some people, surely romance could exist without sexuality for others. Completely different outlooks on two ends of the romance spectrum.

But if levels zero to four didn't imply sexual attraction, what did?

And there it is.

All my fantasies involved doing platonic or romantic things with a man. Enjoying that intense emotional bond I'd have with no one else. Partaking in that friendly acceptance, that romantic love, and that exclusive commitment with one man.

My husband. Maybe. If I could find someone who could accept me...

No matter how infatuated I'd become with a man, my dreams always ended before that final, crucial step. That aesthetic or emotional attraction had never led to a desire for sex with that person.

Not even with Bryan.

I am an asexual.

My heart grew heavy and light all at once. That explained the disconnect I experienced when people discussed their love lives. I always thought it was bravado, an exaggeration of the truth to get praise or admiration. That kind of grandstanding made me roll my eyes on the inside.

In my mind, I couldn't see how sex brought two people closer together. It seemed so uninteresting. Even though society taught us that genitals and erogenous zones were somehow 'special', to me they were no more or less fascinating than shoulders. In fact, I'd probably get more bonding out of a nice shoulder massage than repetitive bouncing on someone's rod.

But that wasn't the case for sexuals. Clearly. They meant it when they wanted to ride their partners all weekend long. Sure, sex wasn't the only thing heterosexual couples desired in life. But it comprised some of the most exclusive aspects of a monogamous romantic relationship.

Bryan had summed it up during his last visit.

"We do things any friends can do, Jess." He squeezed my hand, beseeching me with his dark-brown eyes. "But I love you, and I want to show you."

"We do show each other. All the time." I squeezed him back and rested my head on his shoulder. "I love you, too."

"No, you don't get it." He sighed. "I don't date other girls. Haven't done for two years. I've waited because I know you've grown up differently and needed time. But we're almost eighteen now."

"What are you saying?"

"You should compromise, too. If you want to be celibate, I get it." Bryan ran his hands through his thick, dark hair. "But we could do...other things. Kiss. Touch."

"Bryan..."

"If you're scared about them finding out, come over my house," he said. "My parents will leave us alone."

"I don't know. I'm sorry..."

"Can't you just try? Just one little kiss?"

My stomach churned in protest as I scooted away from him. "I..."

"Fine." He leaped to his feet. "I get it. You don't feel the same way I do."

"No, Bryan! Wait!"

"You're so perfect, but how long should I wait? A month? A year? A decade?" He pursed his lips. "Will you ever be ready, Jess?"

"I don't know. That's my honest answer."

My heart had snapped in two when he'd left. I'd never wanted to cause Bryan pain. He probably felt rejected by me because he didn't understand my asexuality.

Hell, no one could blame him. When we'd broken up three months ago, I hadn't even realized what the hell was wrong with me.

Shit, I'm never going to find a guy...

My best shot was with a fellow nerd like Bryan. One of 'my people'. A patient guy who wasn't afraid to take it slow...not like Eric's girl. He'd shown me nothing but kindness and respect.

A lonely pit grew in my stomach. Only one person understands you, Jess.

My heart pounded when I'd caught sight of Eric's email address. At first, I hadn't noticed it because I had focused on the contents of the email.

estevens@holycross.edu

No freaking way! Impossible. Fate is never that generous...

Two of my top choices were in the same consortium as Holy Cross. Not only that, but Eric was studying a mere thirty-minute drive from my house.