“It’s just a…thing. We’re not serious or anything, only fucking around—”
“Lalalalalala. I’m gonna do that anytime I fear the conversation is veering into icky territory.”
“Icky territory? Are we ten now?”
“It doesn’t matter how old you are; your parents having sex is always gross. You know it happens, but you don’t want to think about it.”
“This is the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had in my life. Well, the second. The first being the one we had after we realized I’d…told you things about…you know who.”
“You should try experiencing it from my end. I still wish brain bleach was a thing.” Ross stood from his seat at the bar, drank the remainder of what was in his coffee mug, and set it in the sink.
I fidgeted, twisting my fingers, words I wasn’t sure I could let free lingering on the tip of my tongue. When he got to the door, I forced myself to say, “Hey.”
“Yeah?” He turned to me.
“Are you sure it’s okay? No details, but like I said, it’s just a thing…convenient or whatever. But our friendship comes first.”
“I might only know you for less than two years, but that’s long enough to understand how you work. If you’re seeing him more than once, it means you like him, so yeah, it’s okay.”
“I don’t like him,” I rushed out. “Let me rephrase: of course I like him. He’s a good man, but—”
“It’s not serious. Convenient s—nah, can’t even say it. S-E-X. I heard you the first time. Just don’t ask me to call you dad and we’re all good.” I rolled my eyes, but Ross took a few steps to close the distance between us. “Let yourself have some fun, Zan. Don’t box yourself in to a certain kind of life because you have something to prove, or because it’ll make you feel like you made it, or because it’s your way of keeping yourself safe, or whatever your reasons are. Just enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” He gave me a one-arm hug and stepped away again.
Emotion clogged my throat, but I managed to speak around it. “That’s Daddy to you,” I teased, and he fake-gagged.
“You better be careful because I’ll start calling you that.”
“Oh God no. Don’t.” He so totally was. What had I been thinking?
“Have a good day, Stepdaddy!” Ross waved and smiled as he slipped out the door.
I finished my banana, put on my running shoes, then headed for the elevator. Harrison was off today as well, so we’d pushed back our morning jog. The only reason I knew his schedule was because we texted now. That was a thing I did with the guy I would be sometimes fucking. I thought it was important we didn’t do it too often—just when we really needed to get off. Also, had I really never texted with a guy I was sleeping with, other than to make arrangements for sex?
My life sounded way more slutty than it was, or than I wished I’d let it be.
When I got to our meeting spot, Harrison was already there. He turned and grinned like he’d somehow known I was approaching. “Good morning.”
It was only the second time we were meeting since he’d brought me my gift and fucked my brains out, but it was still different seeing him again after we’d made the decision we had. If Harrison noticed, which I was pretty sure he did, he kept himself from mentioning it. It was things like that I liked about him the most.
“Morning.”
He nodded toward the sidewalk, and we began our jog. We didn’t talk much as we went. In the beginning we would, sometimes more out of discomfort, I thought, than anything else, but running and talking wasn’t easy, so I was glad that wasn’t a game we’d continued to play. When we had time, we’d speak for a while afterward, though, stretching and talking.
We went until sweat stung my eyes, my muscles burning in the best way. I always felt so accomplished after I jogged, like my body was reborn each and every time.
“How are you spending your day off?” Harrison asked, wiping his brow.
“I have some things I still need to get. At least one bookcase, which I’m hoping to find at a secondhand shop. The older ones are sturdier. If not, I’ll grab a cheap one at a department store. I’d love to get some clothes too, but we’ll see.” I didn’t let myself get embarrassed that these things were harder for me than they’d be for him. I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, but it was still difficult to talk about it. Life was just fucking hard sometimes. I believed Harrison got that, even though our situations were different.
“How are you going to get the bookshelf out to the school?”
That was something I’d been struggling with. “I’m not sure. I might just go the department-store route. Then at least it’s in a box, so that will make it easier to transport.” One of the secondhand stores delivered, but there was a fee for that, which I was hoping to get around.