Page 40 of The Boy from Half Moon

“I never felt anything about boys either,” I stated. I looked up at him sheepishly and whispered, “Until I saw you.”

“There it is,” he pointed out. “Tell me how you felt when you saw me for the first time at the bakery.”

“Well, honestly, I feel that way right now too,” I confessed. “I’m feeling sick to my stomach, to tell you the truth.”

Tate’s eyes narrowed and his mouth puckered up, like he ate something bitter. “That doesn’t sound good. Do you mean you have a weird feeling in your stomach?” he asked. I nodded. “But you like how you feel when you see me?”

I nodded several times. “Oh, yes,” I said. “I feel very happy inside.” I was pleased when he smiled at me. I felt that same wonderful feeling the second he smiled. “Can I be honest?” I whispered. Tate smiled and nodded, encouraging me to go on. “We are not allowed to do what I want to do with you, especially with outsiders. Well, actually, we can’t do this with anyone we aren’t related to, but I always wished I could hug you,” I said. “Hold you real close. Smell you up close too. You smell real nice, Tate. That’s what I feel when you’re around me.”

I noticed Tate’s eyes filling with water. I wondered if he was going to cry and if I’d hurt his feelings. “That is a very nice thing to say, Luke.” I was right. Tears slid down his face, and he swiped at them, laughing and trying to play things off.

“Are you sad because of what I just said?” I asked, placing a hand on his.

My body was on fire the instant I touched him. A sensation unlike any I’d felt coursed through me. I had no idea what I wanted to do with Tate, but parts of my body were screaming to do whatever that was with him. Right then. Right now.

“You have no idea what to do with me, do you?” he whispered, lifting his hand so he could intertwine his fingers with mine. “This is nice,” he said, glancing at our hands. “But let me ask you a very personal question, Luke. Have you had sex yet?”

I jumped back at his question, nearly falling off the barstool. “Oh, God no!” I exclaimed, standing and hurrying across the room. I knelt in front of the cabinet I’d been previously adjusting, pretending to be working on it again, trying to hide my discomfort. “We can’t have sex, Tate,” I mumbled, my back to him, picking up a screwdriver that I didn’t actually need. I had to do something with my hands, considering I wanted to melt into the floor.

“Luke,” he said, his voice remaining calm and kind. “We are not having sex today. I was just asking if you’ve ever had sex.”

I felt trapped by his question. Boys on Half Moon Ranch were given very little information regarding sex when we turned sixteen. The lessons were mostly about our body parts and where things fit to make babies. Sex for the purpose of pleasure was frowned upon even though we were told that the man had a divine right to demand sex at any time he chose to. For me, the appeal of sex with a woman didn’t sound all that exciting. Whereas, with the other boys, the lessons were all they talked about afterward. Whatever they felt about girls had escaped me.

The fear I battled every single day was knocking on my brain. I suppose I could tell him I’d participated in whatever you called what Franklin made me do. I had no evidence, but what Franklin forced me to do was probably not what Tate was talking about. Perhaps he meant something in between what my lessons taught and what Franklin did.

Then I remembered what I’d allowed Franklin to do to me when I wanted a transfer to Bend. That was sex, wasn’t it? The thought of Tate doing that to me excited me, but I bet he wouldn’t like me if I admitted what I’d done with Franklin.

“No,” I fibbed. “I haven’t had sex, and I don’t think I want to have sex with you.”

Being unsure of what sex with him would be like, especially if he asked me without forcing me, made an answer hard to voice. I didn’t know what he did when he had sex. Actually, I didn’t want to think about Tate having sex with someone else. I wanted him all for myself. I wanted him to belong to me.

“No sex?” he asked. “Ever?”

“Do we have to?” I asked. “Could we just be together?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Tate

I’d left my office door wide open after I arrived at my office, so when Alec stood in the doorway, I had no one to blame but me.

“Why the sad face?” he asked, motioning to me to see if he could come in. I waved him in. “I caught you deep in thought, didn’t I?”

“Something like that,” I replied. “You know how Mondays are.”

He slid into a chair across from me at my desk. “I love them,” he began. “Because after another weekend where you wouldn’t go out with me, I get to see you again.”

It was hard not to fall victim to flattery from such a handsome man. Alec was no Luke, but he had his own qualities for sure. I saw him in a suit every workday but had also seen him dressed casually when he took me to his country club.

He was fit without being overly muscular. He was my height, though I preferred taller. He was sharp in his dress and his mannerisms. I was drawn to raw, powerful, and innocent. Alec was definitely not innocent. He wasn’t Luke. That was the problem.

“What’d you do this weekend without me?” I asked, doing my best to act interested in my boss. “Anything fun?”

“A boring art exhibit, featuring boring art, with a boring date. A total blast,” he quipped.

“Well, at least you had a date,” I reminded him.

“Did you hear me?” he joked. “He was boring.”

Alec brought his hand to his mouth and exaggeratingly yawned, closing his eyes and snoring for added effect.

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