Our True Names [Part 1] [MF] [Slow Burn]

[Part 1: The Price of a Soul]

What happened with him isn’t something I ever saw for myself. *Him.* I can’t even speak his name. Each time I do, I feel his hand on my neck, grasping gently, his thumb brushing my bottom lip until I part my lips for him.

It began innocently enough. I was in my second year of college and struggling. I had decided to pursue medicine and while the desire to help others at their most vulnerable was there, the workload of being a pre-med major wore me down. I couldn’t keep up. I was taking 20 credits of Biology and Chemistry, and an English course thrown in there for good measure. I remember running down the steps into the subway station, hearing the overhead announcement that a downtown train would be coming in two minutes. I squeezed through throngs of people, finally making it to the metrocard machine. I inserted a five-dollar bill, exasperated when the machine spit it back out. I quickly tried to flatten it a bit more before shoving it back into the machine. Again, it was spat back out. I could feel the tears of frustration beginning to well up in my eyes. I was cold, I was hungry, and the thought of getting home before the sun set was becoming slimmer and slimmer. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder and saw a man looking at me with concern.

“Are you okay?”

I quickly blinked back my tears and said “Yep, thanks” and walked towards the row of turnstiles. The train was pulling up to the platform. I wasn’t going to make it. I felt so incredibly defeated by something so small. And to add insult to injury, a stranger had witnessed my struggle and felt obliged to ask me if I was okay. I felt my cheeks flush. As a fiercely private, introverted person, even a tiny interaction like that made me feel so self-conscious. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large figure stride through the turnstile closest to me. He turned back and held out his metrocard.

“Come on. Those machines are unreliable; I’ve been there before. Take mine. We can make it.”

I stared at his outstretched hand, a million thoughts running through my head. The sound of the train screeching to a halt and the doors opening filled my ears.

“Come on!”

I grabbed the metrocard, swiped it, and swiftly moved through the turnstiles. I handed him back the card which he quickly pocketed before grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowd and into the train. It was only after the doors closed did I realize that my hand was still in his.

I sharply took in a breath of air and pulled my hand away. My cheeks flushed again and I quickly mumbled a ‘thank you’ and pulled out the crumpled five-dollar bill from my jacket pocket.

“Please, take this. I appreciate your kindness.”

He laughed. The sound was so rich and light. I looked up at my rescuer, finally taking in his appearance. He was tall. Though most people were tall compared to me as I remained at a pathetic 5’ 1” since I was 16. He had brown eyes, framed by a pair of dark-rimmed eyeglasses. His smile was so warm and sincere. I was struck by how handsome he was. I tucked my hair behind my ear and smiled back nervously.

“Are you sure you don’t want the money?”

He shook his head, smiling. “You can just owe me.”

*Owe me…* The words wandered through my mind as I looked into his eyes, skeptical of this perfect stranger.

“Are you a student?”

I nodded.

“What do you study?”

I quickly looked down at my boots, a sense of shame creeping up.

“I’m taking some courses in biology and chemistry… I’m thinking of medical school down the line, maybe.”

He smiled widely. “That’s awesome. I’m sure you’d make a great doctor. I ended up selling my soul to finance.”

I nodded, “I suppose we’re all selling our souls for something.”

A strange expression quickly passed over his face before he smiled again.

“I think you may be right.” The train began to slow down once more and I felt people jostling behind me, moving towards the doors.

“Look. This is me. Take my business card. Maybe we can talk about the price of a soul sometime soon.” I stood still unsure what to do, what to make of such a statement. He grinned and grabbed my hand, pressing the card into my palm.

“What’s your name?”

The doors opened and people began to stream out. He looked at the doors behind him and then back at me. In those few seconds, I remembered a story I had read as a child. In the story, every single living thing had a secret name. If anyone knew your secret name, they had power over you, over your life. In that moment, I decided not to tell him the anglicized name on my school records, my ID, my passport. Instead, I gave him the name my friends call me, the name my parents call me.

“I’m Samira.”

He moved even closer to me, my hand still caught up in his. I looked up into his dark eyes, my skin suddenly feeling aflame. I watched him try it out for himself.

“Samira.” He nodded almost imperceptibly.

“It’s beautiful.” His hands left mine and I watched him stride through the doors until I lost him in the crowd. I stood still until the doors closed again and only then did I look down at the card in my hand.

*Alex E. Donovan*

*Venture Capitalist*

He worked a few stops away from mine, at the heart of the financial district. I pocketed the card, thinking about the way he said my name, the way his hand felt on top of mine. I quickly looked around me. *No.* No one could tell what I was thinking about. No one knew how my heart was racing. Or how tightly my fingers were wrapped around the card in my pocket.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/koqp5q/our_true_names_part_1_mf_slow_burn