Page 47 of Fitch

I took another forkful and put my bowl next to his on the coffee table. I understood the point Dom was making. If we were going to do this, we needed some background information on each other. It was fair enough too.

“My father is just a homophobic arsehole who kicked me out when I was booted out of the closet,” I admitted. “Found myself instantly homeless, so I came to Oxford Street.”

Dom frowned, his hand covering mine. “Oh, Fitch, I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I mean, we were never close. He’d been a piece of shit my entire life. It’s why I never had any intention of telling him.”

“But he found out.”

I nodded. “Yep.”

“And your mother?”

“Not much better.” God, I hated talking about this.

Dom’s face was a mask of sadness. “I’m sorry for bringing this up.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. We should know some details about each other.” I sighed, trying to give him a smile. “What about you? Always dream of being a hotshot lawyer?”

“Yes, always.”

“Always been gay? How did that go for you?”

“I always knew. In senior year at high school, I tried to be bisexual,” he said with an apologetic grimace. “Thought it might make my life easier. But no, it’s only men for me.”

“Did you have a hard time being gay?” I asked gently.

He gave a slow shake of his head. “No. Not really. A few friends who couldn’t deal with it, but my parents were okay. Eventually. They were worried for me, more than anything else. My father died before I turned thirty, but I know he loved me. My mother lives up the coast now. We speak often.”

So basically the very opposite of my experience...

“So,” I hedged, needing to change the subject. “Sex with a woman. What’s that like?”

He laughed and booped his finger on the tip of my nose. “I do not kiss and tell.”

I gave him a silly pout, but I remembered something he’d said before. “But you prefer sex with twinks, right?”

His eyes locked with mine. “Very much, yes.”

“Never had sex with a bigger guy? No gym-bros in your closet I should know about?” I asked.

He chuckled. “I mean, sure. I’ve slept with other men. But from as far back as when I was in college, that was when I knew what I really liked.”

“Into all the freshmen, huh?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

That earned me a warm gaze and soft smile. Then he took my hand and studied my fingers for a second. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You,” he whispered. “And other men . . .”

Oh boy.

He winced. “I know, I know,” he said quickly. “I know what you do for a living, where you work. I just...”

I tried to keep my voice neutral. “You just what?”

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