Page 33 of A Much Younger Man
“What?” I swallowed. “No.”
He brought his napkin to his lips. “You’re looking at me funny.”
I laughed, but it sounded odd to my ears. “Funny haha? Or funny weird?”
“Weird.”
“That may be my natural state,” I said. “Resting weird face.”
He hid a smile. “Maybe.”
“Would you like another breadstick?” I offered the basket.
“Please.” He took one, dunked it into his bowl, and bit the end off. He hadn’t quite finished swallowing before he said, “This chili is really delicious.”
“Glad you like it.” I was captivated by his lips—or rather by a crumb of bread that hung there for an eternity until he thumbed it off and licked his thumb.
A zing of desire hit my groin and my cheeks burned like fire.
No, no, no. This could not be happening.
I wasn’t some horny old goat who got hard around guys half his age. I dated mature men. I didn’t date anyone twice. I loved my life the way it was, so why, oh why, could I not simply feed this stray young man and release him back into the wild.
What was it about him?
“You know what?” he said suddenly.
I answered numbly. “What?”
“I’m going to teach you to play guitar.”
Oh no.“I beg your pardon?”
He snorted. “You’ve got a guitar. When I’m done with you, you won’t be a poser anymore. I’ll teach you. It’s easy.”
“Right.” I didn’t believe that. Nobody would believe that.
“No, really. I promise. You’ll be able to play something good when I’m done with you. That way, when someone asks about your guitar, you’ll have something to show for the space it takes up in this room.”
Because I wanted anything he offered, I said, “All right.”
“You know, an instrument is like a pet. If you share space with it and neglect it, you need to rehome it with someone who will take better care of it.”
My God, I thought,he’s right.
