Page 96 of The Last Good Man

I tilt my head and pin a blank stare on the fire.

“Were you really attracted to me?” I ask, and his answer comes after a few seconds.

“Yes.”

His solemn tone is hoarse.

“I am attracted to you,” he says sincerely.

I ponder his answer.

“Were you always into older women?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“I’m not attracted to people based on age or status. I’m not one of those dudes. And, no. I’ve never been with someone like you.”

I listen without glancing at him.

“I’m aware ofthe differences between us,” he says.“It’s just that I’m not turned off by them.”

“You think I am?” I ask, moving my gaze to him.

“You’re struggling a lot because you’ve planned your life and shit.”

My head falls back into the pillow.

“You and I will never happen,” I murmur. “And you know I like you.”

A few more seconds pass.

“Do you realize we’ve known each other for like forty-eight hours?” I say.

The realization hits me hard.

Thursday night, I was unaware of the presence of this man outside my therapist’s door, and then I ran into him, and he decided to blow up my life.

And he did.Successfully, I might add.

“You’re the one obsessed with numbers and statistics. Notme,” he says and he’s right.

His life moves at a different pace, following different rules. He mostly doesn't care about the rules while breaking other people’s rules.

He just lives his life, ignoring how it looks from the outside. There’s freedom in that.

Even without considering how little time we’ve spent together, it’s hard not to notice how tumultuous these forty-eight hours have been.

We both go silent, and as much as I’d love to go to sleep and not talk to him, I can’t stop thinking about this.

“Are you seeing someone?” I ask, void of emotion.

“Seeing? As in… dating? Fucking?”

I move my eyes to him, and he looks at me for a second, but it has nothing to do with my question.

He searches my eyes, trying to learn something about me.

“Any of the above?” I say.

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