Page 213 of The Liar's Reckoning

“No need to get defensive. It was a friendly question.”

I wasn’t prepared to lie this morning, but it’s usually not this hard to come up with one. “I’m seeing a friend.”

“Oh?”

“That’s all you need to know.”

He lets out the deep chuckle I’ve somehow grown to love. I used to think it was a sound of condescension, but I hear the affection in it now. “You’re icing me out, I see. I can take a hint.”

“Good.”

He huffs. “All right, son. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be home all day. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Bye, Dad.”

I hang up and note the steadiness of my hand as it rests my phone face down on the desk. It felt good not to lie. It was empowering to stand my ground and maintain my privacy, andgratifying to hear him respecting my boundaries. I don’t know how far that generosity extends, but it’s worth thinking about.

It’s worthdoing something. If you don’t do something, you’re going to lose him.

That voice inside me has been noisy lately, and increasingly panicked. It’s hard to balance my excitement about spending time with Silas tonight with the knowledge of him moving away. Over the last week we’ve amassed more things we have in common than we did during our entire two year relationship.

Not just ideologies or political stances, but even the way we approach complicated subjects, arming ourselves with research and checking our own biases. He uses think pieces inThe Atlanticand YouTube historians. I use law textbooks, podcast transcripts, and the Federalist papers, but we both know how to cover our bases and examine alternate points of view objectively.

Whether this side of him is new the way it is for me, it’s added another dimension to us that only makes me want him in my life more. The way I’m practically salivating to see him, it’s no wonder he still calls me puppy.

While I wait for three o’clock when he’ll get off work, I take the kids to the park. They want to be outside even though it’s still hot as hell. We throw a frisbee, eat soft pretzels, and feed some ducks.

After a shower, I slip out the back entrance and take a Lyft to the East Village.

Silas lets me into his apartment dressed in a pair of gym shorts and nothing else.

I note his erection before I’ve even made it across the threshold. “I hope I’m not interrupting something,” I say with a pointed glance.

“You’re late.”

“I wanted to give you time to shower.”

“What if I wanted company?”

“Then you should have texted me.”

He pulls me inside. “Get in here. I’ve got marks to put on you.”

64

GRAHAM

Half an hour later, I’ve still got my back against the wall just inside the door where I’m being kissed breathless.

It’s a slow, intense burn—Silas’s hands move deliberately and with no haste down my arms, up my sides, through my hair. Our cocks graze but don’t grind—at least not yet. His ability to pace himself might outmatch mine, though. He’s breaking me.

Why is he doing this if he doesn’t want me to try and keep him?

This feels like a test, but testing me isn’t really his style, so I don’t know what this is. Not knowing and overthinking it is stealing some of my enjoyment from what should be beautiful. If we were still together, and this were the greeting I got every time I got back to town, I’d be ecstatic, but tonight, I don’t know what to make of it. By my count, he hasn’t left a single mark yet.

“What are you doing to me?” I groan with an increasingly impatient hard-on.

“Just go with it.” He tries to kiss me again, but I turn my head. His lips land on my cheek and trail down to my neck.

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