Page 44 of Cool for the Summer

“Ah. Well, thank him for me.”

“What makes you think I’m still in touch with him?”

“You seem like the kind of person who stays friends with their exes,” I say.

He makes a face. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But it’s true either way.”

“It’s a good thing. It means you’re mature enough to not let relationship status change the fact that you liked that person enough to be with them.”

“Or maybe it means we weren’t really passionate about each other if we’re fine being just friends,” he says. “That’s definitely how it was with my first boyfriend, Michael.”

“College, right?” I try to remember the little Beck’s told me about his dating history. He mentioned having a handful of boyfriends over the years.

“It was one of those ‘we’re both gay and we want experience so let’s be together even though we’re not that attracted to each other’ things.”

“Oh, one of those.” I have to admit I’ve never been in that position, but I get the gist.

“But experimenting with him did give me confidence, so when Aidan came along, I had the balls to ask him out, even though he seemed way out of my league.”

At the name Aidan I can’t help but freeze up. Obviously, it’s not the same Aidan. Different state, different dates. But Beck notices, because of course he does. “What? You okay?”

“Fine. Tell me more about Aidan’s great blow jobs,” I say, forcing myself to sound normal.

“Well, he was hot, and nice, and we dated for like two years. But when we graduated, he wanted to go to grad school in Europe and I did not, so we broke up. He’s still over there. I keep threatening to go visit but I haven’t yet.”

So definitely not the same Aidan. My Aidan was scared of flying and had never gone anywhere west of Chicago.

Besides, he hasn’t been my Aidan in forever.

Maybe Pete’s right and I have been letting him stop me for too long.

To keep the conversation going, I ask, “What happened next?”

“What do you mean?”

“After you and Aidan broke up.”

“Oh! Well, I moved to Jersey and took that nonprofit job. That’s when I discovered that casual flings were not for me. I got hit on so much, and sometimes I was tempted, but whenever I tried it I was too stressed to enjoy myself. I know that sounds totally stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” I say, even though I’ve never had any trouble enjoying myself with a stranger. “You know what you aren’t into, and that’s valid.”

“Thanks.”

“That also explains why you gave me such a hard time when we first met.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the coffee shop, or afterward. I was hitting on you and you wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

“I knew you were hitting on me.” Beck sounds triumphant and I laugh. “I wasn’t sure,” he admits, sitting up. He’s not really hard anymore, but it doesn’t matter. I know I can change that when the time is right. “I was so hungover, I thought maybe I imagined it.”

“You were pretty hungover,” I agree. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re making an exception for me.”

“Am I?”

“With the casual sex thing,” I clarify.

“Oh. Well. I guess there’s an exception to every rule,” he says.

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