“I’m telling you that because I never like men. That sounded wrong. I’m not a man-hater. I think men are pleasant distractions. If the rest of my life is the main course, men are desserts. Enjoyable, forgettable treats. That’s a deliberate choice, based on some bad stuff that happened to me, and it’s served me well for a long time. It’s protected me. Until you.”
When I glance up, he’s staring at me in total stillness, a look of intense concentration on his face. That muscle in his jaw flexes. He grips the knife like he’s about to plunge it into someone’s chest.
Holding his gaze, I say quietly, “I think you and I are the same. I think we both have secrets, and those secrets made us who we are. I think that’s why this feels different to me. And why it’s so dangerous. So I’m going to say th
