Page 56 of These Secret Years

“I wouldn’t want to hold anyone back,” he says.

“Back from what, though?”

“I don’t know. Living their life. In public if that’s what they wanted.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine someone wanting you and then giving a shit about needing to wave their pride flag around whenever they were around you.”

“No?” he asks with more of a challenge in his gaze. “I guess if you don’t follow the NFL at all, you’ll have missed how public the wives are about who they’re married to. They’re like first ladies.”

I laugh shortly at that. “What kind of person do you see yourself with, exactly?”

“I don’t see myself with anyone,” he answers, tone slightly morose. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“What about right now? I’m with you.”

“You have a girlfriend, and it’s not like anything can really happen.”

I smirk. “Define anything.”

He smiles, I think, in spite of himself. I’m asking about the one word, but it’s the “really” in his statement that does the most work. As though whatever might happen has to exist in a world that isn’t entirely real.

And honestly, I’m okay with that. I want him, yes, but I want Chelsea, too, and the way she is with me. Unassuming and easy, responsive to what I need and casual about her own needs. She’s curious about herself, actively exploring her own preferences and maybe even her kinks, but we haven’t really gotten that far. We only just started identifying as a couple a few months ago, having been friends first.

I think, with a little vulnerable sharing on my part, she’d get it if I wanted to keep our relationship open. And I don’t mean I want to necessarily be Knight’s guy on the side, although that is top of mind tonight. It’s an offer I’m willing to make, and yeah, partly because I want his help with algebra, but also because good people shouldn’t be sad, and he’s both good and bordering on sad.

“Well, what do you think can happen?” he asks.

Another smirk from me. “Anything.”

“You’re fucking impossible.”

“You know, if you’re done eating, you should either take a quiz or give me a tour.”

His breath catches. “I’m fried,” he finally says. “I’m all over the place, and I can’t tell what you actually want with me.”

“I feel like I’ve been really straightforward about what I want with you.”

“Which part?”

I give him a break. “I’d rather have the tour. Is that straightforward enough?”

He opens his arms. “It’s just this and some bedrooms. There’s a great patio.”

That wasn’t what I was expecting. Maybe he’s too nervous. Maybe he’s already too sure of what he can and can’t have. “You’re allowed to say what you want. Even if you want me to leave. I’ll try not to take it too personally.”

He exhales, and his words tumble out with his breath. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I rise from the seat, needing to get out from behind the table. Knight, I don’t think, will ever make the first move, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s shy or scared or a combination of both. What I think is accurate is that he wants me, too, and that makes me more confident than I might normally be when I’m thinking of doing something I’ve never done before.

He looks up at me as I walk to his side of the table.

“Would you rather I get on my knees again? Because that’s okay, too.”

His dark eyes look hazy before he blinks them a few times. “You make me so fucking nervous.”

“Even after two drinks?”

“Yeah.”