Page 60 of The All-Inclusive

And there we go. I sit down beside him, stretching my legs in the sand out in front of us. “You said your parents didn’t react well to your cousin coming out.”

Trent’s shoulders stiffen. Slowly, he turns to face me. “I’m not gay.”

“Didn’t say you were.” He’s already bristly, so fuck it. “But you don’t kiss like a straight guy. I should know, I’ve kissed several.”

“Fuck you.” There’s no venom in the words. He looks almost resigned, like we’re discussing the weather. “How’s Sara?”

“Not thrilled you ran off like you did.”

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them again. “I’m such an asshole. She deserves better.”

“Maybe.”

“I love her so fucking much.”

“I know.”

“I want to do better. I just—” He drags a hand through his hair, raining speckles of water on his muscular legs.

One droplet lands on my thigh and a pulse of electricity zings up my leg.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“For flicking me with water or kissing me?” I’m not mad about either. “Or running out like you did?”

“The last one,” he mutters, looking down at his knees. “Is Sara freaking out?”

“She’s worried about you.” The last thing she said as I walked out the door wasdon’t let him beat himself up.

But maybe I got here too late. He’s well on his way to kicking his own ass. “Look, man.” What can I say that will make him feel better? “I’ve fucked hundreds of women.”

Trent looks up sharply. “Is this supposed to be helping?”

“Zip it, Frogman.” Where was I going with that? He looks down again, which makes it a little bit easier to keep going. “I’d probably slept with several dozen by the time I had sex with a man the first time.”

He doesn’t respond, but he’s listening. I can tell by the way he goes utterly still. “I’ll admit it,” I continue. “The first time it happened, I got kinda weird about it. Like,what does this mean,how does this change things, how will this alter the course of my life?”

Trent meets my eyes again. “Did it? Change things, I mean.”

“Of course. I’d be bullshitting you if I said otherwise.”

“Great,” he mutters, scuffing his heels in the sand. “Just what I’ve been trying to avoid.”

“Why?”

He frowns and looks up at me. “What the fuck do you meanwhy?”

I ponder the right thing to say. “It didn’t make my lifeworse. It gave me more options. Sometimes I feel like sleeping with women, and sometimes?—”

“Yeah, I got it.” Clearly the man isn’t comfortable spelling it out. “You make it sound like a choice between hot dogs for dinner or a ham sandwich.” He winces. “I did not think through that metaphor.”

Laughing, I jab him with an elbow. “It’s a fucking simile, dumbass.”

“Thanks, Jarhead.”

“No problem, Frogman.” We sit there in silence a while. I’msensing that Trent isn’t ready for big conversations. Whatever this means for his future, it can wait.

“Trent?”

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