Page 19

She storms out of the room. I hear her footsteps on the stairs, followed by the slam of her bedroom door.

Well. That went well.

I finish my coffee, giving myself a few more minutes to settle down.

Sophie is a young woman. That’s why she’s doing young woman things. And, I suppose, that’s why I’m thinking about her—uh—as a young woman.

On some level I’m aware that my own inappropriate feelings are driving the fury of my reaction, and I know that I need to make repairs. When I’m calm enough, I push back my stool and head upstairs.

I knock on her door. “Soph? Can we talk?”

“No.”

“Okay.” I wait a moment. “But I'd like to apologize, though.”

There's a pause. “You can do it through the door.”

“I suppose I could. But I'd rather talk to you properly.”

Another pause, longer this time. “Fine. Come in.”

She's sitting cross-legged on her bed, arms folded, and she doesn't look particularly pleased to see me.

“I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

“You should be.”

I take a deep breath. “I wasn't expecting to find you and Tyler together,” I say. “It was a shock. And I suppose I'm having some trouble accepting how much you've grown up.”

“Vince, I've been dating boys since high school.”

“Yes, but— This is different, Soph. I didn’t know you were . . . sexually active.”

Oh Jesus. Is that my cock stirring just the slightest bit at the most inappropriate time? I lean back against her dresser to create my laxity at the front of my pants and direct angry thoughts toward my member.

Sophie frowns. “Hardly.”

Okay.

I try to come at this from a different direction. “I didn't know you and Tyler were getting back together.”

“We're not.”

A flicker of anger shoots through me. He wants sex but not dating? These fucking boys.

“He came over and we hung out,” she continues, defensively. “That's all.”

“Hm.” My thoughts flail, slightly, as I try to form my next sentence. “And is that something you’ve done before? With, er, Tyler, or someone else?”

Her eyes snap to me, the slightest bit of color rising on her cheeks. For a second, she doesn’t say anything, and I think she won’t answer. But her reaction softens, and she loosens her arms into her lap and looks at her hands.

“A couple of times with Tyler,” she says quietly. “But that’s it.”

The mental image hits me hard, but I nod calmly and push off the dresser, moving over to the bed and sitting down.

“And how has it been?” I ask gently. “Do you . . . like it?”

The color on her cheeks deepens and she doesn’t look at me. “Yeah. I guess.”