Page 34 of These Secret Years

I get him another beer from the cooler and inhale a second hot dog because I’m starving. “I hope I’m not ruining this place for you.”

He shrugs. “What do you think about it?”

“It feels like I’m about a thousand miles away from home.”

“Do you know how long it’s been abandoned?” he asks.

“No. How long?”

He shrugs. “Thought you might know since your mom’s company owns it now.”

“Oh. No.”

He says, “As far as I know, no one’s ever lived here, but I only found it about ten years ago. It was already falling apart by then, so I figure at least twenty years, but who knows.”

“Want me to find out?”

He shakes his head. “No. I like the mystery. It’s okay that I’m here, right?”

It’s more than okay by me. Then I realize he’s done it again. He’s changed the subject entirely from my question about the girlfriend. “Yeah. It’s fine. Circling back,” I say. “How long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Curious. I’ve never been part of a couple before. I guess I’m wondering how it’s going. Do you like it?”

“I like her.”

“Have you had a girlfriend before?”

“No.”

“What’s it like?” I ask.

He frowns like it’s a weird question. Maybe it is.

“I mean…I don’t know. She’s like a friend who sits really close to me and always answers my texts and expects me to answer hers in a timely manner. Like a friend you can’t ignore, I guess.”

“Do you—” I shut myself up. One, because I don’t know how to ask what I want to ask, and two, because I shouldn’t. It’s intrusive and none of my business at all.

“Have sex?” he asks. “Yeah.”

This time, I do blush. It’s like my blood doesn’t know what to do. I can practically feel my bone marrow trying to make more cells, both to redden my face and engorge my dick. “So do you have it all figured out yet?” I ask, harkening back to that conversation in the woods that night, which I remember all too well.

“Are you asking about my sexuality?”

Jesus. He really knows how to make a man uncomfortable. “I guess I am.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Still?”

He gives me a strange smile. It’s almost pitying. Like I’m the one who doesn’t know who I am when he’s the one saying he doesn’t know whether he prefers men or women or knows for a fact he likes both. “You’re acting like your relationship with your own sexuality doesn’t fuck with you at all,” he says.

“I’m not saying that, I’m just saying I know what my sexuality is. How I feel about it might not be straightforward or even pleasant, but I’m not confused about it.”

“What’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, Knight?”

The question startles me. “Where’d that come from?” But maybe I already know. If we’re talking about sex and sexuality and now the worst thing that ever happened, that can only mean one thing, right? Something’s happened to him?