"Not at all."
"Have you ever…been with a guy before?"
"No."
"Does that freak you out? At all? Like, even a tiny bit?"
"No. I have two gay sons and one who was recently in a triad with a man and a woman. That's taught me a lot about love and attraction and fluidity."
He nods. "Okay."
I want to reach over and take his hand in mine so badly, but I don't. That'd only be sending him mixed signals. So I bite the bullet and get to the point. "If I had my way, I'd like to continue spending time with you, getting to know you more and exploring even more things."
"Like sex in a Jacuzzi?"
I chuckle and instantly hate myself for loving how great that sounds, how quick my mind is at forming a fully fleshed-out image of that, how every single part of me is smitten by this once-in-a-lifetime guy sitting in my living room.
I clear my throat, fiddle with the sleeve of my shirt, then raise my head and look him dead in the eye. "But we can't take things any further."
"Oh."
"I'd like to, but…"
"But what? You said you're fine with the me being a guy thing."
"I am."
"Then what is it?" His voice rises.
"Twenty years."
"Huh?"
"That's the age gap between us," I say. "That's…not okay."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not."
"Pfft. That's a non-answer if ever I've heard one."
I'm not enjoying that he's making this even harder for me, but I like his fight. "I've judged men in my position for being with women so much younger than them."
"That's still not an answer. I want one, good, properactualreason."
My mind flatlines. I look out the windows, searching the endless blue sky to come up with the good, proper, actual reason he's rightly asking for.
Finally, I say, "There's an inherent imbalance between us resulting from my age. I don't want to take advantage of you."
His response is instant, but he's deliberate with his words. "How exactly are you taking advantage of me?Iwantyou, Anson. I told you my fantasy, and even though you were the one doing things to my body, I wanted it. I… I felt special."
"Youarespecial."
"Then why end this? Because people will talk? Let them. You don't strike me as the type of person who gives a shit what anyone else thinks. And yes, there is an imbalance in our dynamic. But I'd argue it has more to do with your money than your age. I'm not a gold digger. I don't want anything from you. These last few weeks, you've made me feel like no one else ever has. And I'll take that a million times over your bank balance or what year you were born in."
I stare at him in disbelief. I wasn't expecting to be hit with such a strong, coherent argument. Being on the defensive isunfamiliar territory for me, so I push to my feet and stride over to the window.
A few moments later, Jarvis joins me. "I get what it will look like to the world. I do. They'll think you're a creepy old dude taking advantage of someone younger, and I'm some money-hungry, social climber. But who the fuck cares? Do you? Because I sure as hell don't." I'm silent, his words mixing with ideas that, up until about five minutes ago, were firmly set in stone. "You don't want me just because I'm younger, do you?" he asks.