Page 64 of These Secret Years

He laughs quietly. “You’re down, huh?”

“Sure. I’ll fuck you whenever, wherever, if you’re up for it.”

“As long as you pass algebra, though, right?”

“I thought that went without saying.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

My girlfriend. Right.

I have this theory about myself that if I allow myself to go unchecked, I’ll turn into a really bad person without even realizing it. Knight is pointing out a way I can avoid that in this situation.

“I think I’m more likely to tell her what happened than not. I won’t name names or anything, you never have to worry about that, but she’s pretty open-minded. She could dump me, and I’d have to find a new place to live next semester, but that won’t be an issue.” Thanks to Adrian. “But there’s a chance she’ll be okay with it.” I shrug. “I’m curious what she’ll say.”

“Do you feel guilty?”

It doesn’t take a whole lot of soul-searching to answer that. “No. Does that make me an asshole?”

“No, but why wouldn’t you feel guilty?”

“I’m not like in love with her.” Now I wonder if that makes me an asshole.

“And she’s not in love with you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. Is there some way I should be able to tell other than the words getting spoken out loud?”

“I have no idea,” he says.

“Yeah, so I guess it’s more like we get along really well and have fun together and⁠—”

“Have sex,” he inserts.

“Yes, we have sex, but we’re not like all over each other all the time trying to inhale each other. We go out, we hold hands. We dance—like regular shit, too.”

“So, what makes her your girlfriend and not a friend with benefits or whatever?”

“I’m not really good at essay questions, either,” I hedge. “We spend a lot of time together.”

“And? I spend an unreasonable about of time with the twins⁠—”

“Are they fucking you, too?”

He laughs.

“So, I guess that’s the difference,” I say.

“So, am I your boyfriend now?”

He gets me there. I laugh, too, in a way I haven’t laughed in a while. “Just my algebra tutor. I promise,” I say through the breathy bursts from my chest.

“Tutor, huh?”

“Proxy. Whatever.”

“Do you want another drink while I make you look smart?” he asks.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”