Page 97 of The Last Good Man

“I’m not dating. I never have.”

He tilts his eyes to the ceiling, his arm still folded under his head.

There’s maybe a few feet between us, and I’m sure whoever decorated this place had never considered the two lovebirds would sleep separately.

He is fully clothed with his boots on.

Maybe he had considered leaving, yet something held him in place.

It wasn’t my good nature, for sure, or that he’d thought I might have sex with him after taking a shower.

“You never had a girlfriend? Someone who was more than sex and meant something to you?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You’re lying.”

“You think?”

A smile lines his voice.

I try again.

“So, are you seeing someone right now?”

“You’re interrogating me?”

He’s entertained.

“I’m trying to learn more about you.”

“Oh. I forgot,”hesays. “You’re following a script.”

“I’m technical, as you have said.”

“That means you’re thinking about me seriously?”

He looks at me again.

“Yes, you are,” he says. “You were doing it when I held you in my arms two nights ago.”

I roll my eyes.

“I know you rolled your eyes.”

I laugh.

“No, you don’t. You’re just versed in reading people.”

He chuckles.

“Maybe.”

“And avoiding inconvenient questions.”

“What questions?”

“See? That’s a prime example. So, tell me. When was the last time you slept with someone?”

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