Page 42 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“It never appealed to me, and the one time I forced myself to try, well … not an experience I’m looking to repeat.”
“Vincent, I would never pressure you”—he wraps his fingers around mine—“to do anything.”
“What about you?” I ask, my stomach knotted.
“Well, I’m a … ” He pauses, a serious look overtaking the smile. “I don’t really know.” He stands and kisses the back of my head. The whiskers on his beard tickle my naked skin. “And you know what? I can think of lots of other ways to have fun.”
Kent was married to a woman for years. Maybe he thinks he doesn’t care, but right now, as “You Make Loving Fun” fills the kitchen, I bite my lip, breathe, and try to let that go. Christine sings about believing in miracles, and maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time to believe.
CHAPTER 14
Kent
“You slept together?”
New pastel blues, purples, and yellow beads at the end of Ruth’s braids signal the looming spring. The trees surrounding the track also hint at the change of seasons with new buds. Ruth’s determination to get my love life on track doesn’t waver, but I’m still my usual half-step behind.
“Slept. As in sleeping. That’s it.”
Ruth gives me her patented I’m-not-buying-your-fakakta-story look.
“Really, nothing happened.”
“Nothing?”
“Okay, we kissed. And cuddled.”
Her cheeks go soft, followed by her entire face. Ruth’s eyelids stretch wide, and she slows her pace and hooks her arm in mine.
“Mr. Lester, you spent all night canoodling with Mr. Clean?”
Tugging her back, delight plastered on my face, I say, “It was actually lovely.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. Spooning is my love language.”
“Really? I wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler.”
“Look at me.” Ruth pauses, jutting her hip out. “I’m all skin and bones. I love nothing more than burying myself in a curvy lady.”
We continue our brisk walk and a grin sneaks onto my face, thinking of Ruth losing herself in someone.
“He did say something interesting the next morning. Well, told me something.”
Ruth blurts out a blasting noise, mimicking the fire alarm. “Incoming, red-flag alert!”
“Hush.” My arm releases hers, allowing us both to resume swinging them for extra cardio.
“He’s a side.”
“Aside? Aside from what?”
“No, not aside, a—” I pause, holding one hand out with each word. “—side. Two words.”
“Oh, aside. Cool. My cousin Stewart is a side. It’s way more common than people think.”
Of course, this is nothing new to Ruth. She volunteers at the queer community center in town, has dated more queer folks than I can count on all my fingers and toes, and is clearly a million times more hip than me. Not that it takes much.
She slows her pace and rubs my forearm as we stroll. “People think sex equals penetration, but take it from me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.”
