Page 9 of Mad for Madison

“You’re kidding,” Madison said.

Embarrassment zinged through me, and I shook my head. “It’s not important right now.”

“How come?” he asked as if I hadn’t tried to deflect.

“Who’s got the time?” I joked, but Madison simply looked at me and waited for the answer. So I sighed and leaned back. If he didn’t know my circumstances, it wasn’t for any great secrecy. Most regulars at Neon Nights knew my story. “When I was seventeen, I dated this girl, Ava,” I said.

Madison lifted his eyebrows suspiciously.

“A desperate cry,” I admitted. “I kinda knew the truth by then, but I hoped the right girl wouldcureme.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Don’t ask. I was terrified. It’s a lifetime ago. But then, still in high school, I wanted to be fixed. So, I made myself go through with it, and it was the wake-up call I needed. Except, Ava got pregnant and, after a series of small indecisions, left our daughter with me.”

“You had a kid?” Madison gawked.

I nodded, half smiling. “Lily. She’s six. She’s my world, don’t get me wrong, but becoming a dad at eighteen doesn’t help you on the dating scene.”

“And you never had a boyfriend,” Madison finished for me.

“I can’t think of many guys my age who swing by Neon Nights who want to date a single dad.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I sound ungrateful. I swear, I love Lily more than life. And I wouldn’t trade this life for all the riches in the world.”

“But…” Madison’s voice carried far more compassion than I would have expected.

“We all have wishes that can’t come true,” I said as casually as I could. Not in a million years would I tell him how much I longed to have my hand held, for the back of a finger to slide down the side of my face, for a pair of lips to press against my mouth. I wouldn’t tell him how I yearned to leave someone’s apartment wearing his hoodie because we’d spilled wine on mine, how I craved to be together under a blanket, warm and happy and relaxed, watching a movie.

“Can’t? I don’t know about that,” Madison said. “Are you looking?”

“This really isn’t a problem we should be solving,” I said politely.

“Suit yourself,” Madison said. “But for what it’s worth, I think there are plenty of guys who wouldn’t bat an eyelash at your situation for a chance to be with you.”

Two men passed by our table and put their heads together, whispering, their glances lingering on Madison. It was the escape I so desperately needed. “Oh, look at that, you got recognized.”

Madison smirked.

“Does it happen a lot?” I asked. I knew of two videos that had reached over a million views on a certain website I occasionally visited.

“You’d be surprised,” Madison said.

I shook my head. “I doubt I would.”

He had that wickedly handsome smile on again as he leaned closer over the table. “The number of times a very straight dude with a girl under his arm spotted me in the subway or on the beach is ridiculous.”

“No way,” I said, thinking he was joking.

“Seriously, I can totally tell when someone stares at me like they know they’ve seen me before, but they don’t know when or where. And then, ‘Ah!’ They remember, cheeks red, lips pursed tight, eyebrows twisting in anger, and eyes looking elsewhere. I love it when that happens.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking at me with shameless satisfaction.

He had no idea just how attractive he was when he smiled. It was completely unlike the role he played for views. He had no idea what those smiles did to me, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Bradley,” he said, momentarily taking my breath away when his lips formed my name. But his tone was more serious now. “Have you ever been with a guy?”

Before I could shape a lie believable enough, the answer rippled over my face, surprise mixed with hurt. “Why does that matter? It’s not like we’ll have to prove it to everyone at the party.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

And that simple fact made me choose honesty over deflection more than anything else. So I shook my head shortly. To lighten it up, I forced out a laugh. “Like I said, who’s got the time?”

But the way Madison watched me, his eyes solely on my face, his attention so complete and concentrated on me that I felt seen beyond being noticed, told me that he knew how futilethe attempt to divert was. “Just because you’re a dad, it doesn’t mean you can’t have room for your life, too.”

For a time, I said nothing. He wouldn’t understand. How could he? His job was to be seductive, flirtatious, good-looking, and shameless. His life was built on these pillars, and his lifestyle depended on his sexual expression. We were completely different.

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