I close my eyes for a second.
“You really want all the juicy details?”
“Do it,” he says. “It's only fair that you make me jealous too. Even though the thought of someone else with you…”
I interrupt him with a kiss, whispering reassurance.
“It was a long time ago. I’m yours now.”
I can tell by the way he’s sitting that he’s bracing himself for the worst.
Leaning close, I try to soothe him.
“You and me,” I whisper.
“You and me,” he echoes.
I take a minute to gather my thoughts.
Deep breath.
Here goes.
“I was eighteen. My first love was Jake.”
It’s a name I haven’t said out loud in years.
“His family were French. His mum named him Jacques, but he hated it. We did the same art major at college. That’s when it became more serious. But I'd been crushing hard since we were in high school together. We used to have sleep overs in my back yard, and I’d zip our sleeping bags together so we could give each other hand jobs. Sorry, I shouldn’t have...”
“It's okay,” Marco smiles. “Keep going.”
His voice is kind and encouraging.
So I let the memory unfold.
“We were together for about four years, not counting the high school stuff. I mean… as boyfriends. I used to stay at their beach house with his parents every summer. They caught us fucking in the pool shed.”
To my surprise, he seems a little turned on by this.
“That’s kind of hot. Did they know Jake was..?”
“Nope.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, super awkward. Didn’t stop us from dating though.”
I can feel my cheeks turn red.
“How did they know you were in there?” he asks.
“Guess we were being a little too loud.”
Marco leans back in his chair, still grinning.
“Amos Vale being loud?”
He mouths the wordnever.
