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“Screw you, you’re older than I am.”
Orson shrugs. “Maybe, but I’ve aged better.”
I reach up to rub his salt-and-pepper scruff. “Like fine wine.”
“I’m told it’s distinguished.”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me.” It’s one of the things I like about him. “But I’m confident you didn’t come here to ask about my past hookups.”
“Oh. Nope. Did you want to head out for lunch, or …”
“If you want our private conversation spread all over town, sure.”
“Good point.”
He still looks a tiny bit worried, so I wheel my chair over until I’m right in front of him. “This is a good place for a private conversation. And so is my place later.”
“Here’s fine. So … I think it’s obvious I’m attracted to you. It’s new and caught me totally off guard, but I like it.”
A little burst of happiness goes off in my chest. “I like it too.”
“Good.” His eyes crinkle up in amusement. “The thing I’m confused about is … well, what happens from here?”
“What do you mean?”
His tongue swipes over his lip. “Well, our friendship comes first for me, and I know you said you’d be fine hooking up again, but I … I’m not …”
“A hookup guy?”
“Yes. I don’t want to be either.”
“So if anything progresses between us, it won’t be casual?”
A long gust of air leaves him. “Exactly.”
“Okay, I can agree to that.”
“You …” He startles. “Just like that?”
“Sure.” I can understand him being confused when dating isn’t something I’ve done a lot of, but surely after the last month, he has to know this isn’t fun and games for me? I rest my hands on the outsides of his thighs. “Does this mean we’re in a relationship?”
“There’s one more thing.”
“Which is?”
Orson traps his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, and fuck, it’s exciting to think I might actually be able to do that myself. “I don’t know how to give you everything you’d want in a relationship.”
Ah. Sex. Disappointing, but not a deal breaker. I’m not sure what kind of relationship he’s envisioning for us—a romantic one, but open to others sexually, complete celibacy, occasional spontaneous orgasms?—but whatever it is, I don’t want him to think that’s all I want from him. “Look, I’m happy to cook most of the time, but I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be nice for you to make me the occasional dinner.”
Another whack to the shoulder, followed by a huge smile. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do … so what’s your concern?”
“I think I’d be okay with it, but it’s kinda confronting to think about your cock. And touching it and …” He swallows. “I’m worried I’ll freak out and ruin things.”
As much as I want to assure him that would never happen, it’s also a legitimate concern. I’ve been with guys who were curious and into it before things got real.
“I get that.”
