25 Red Scars Beneath
He is bound to have them: questions, doubts. He hardly knows a thing about me; only the obvious physical attributes and a few snippets of information that can barely fill half a page. And when he sits down beside me on the steps, so close that our knees and thighs are squashed together, and says: “There was a man asking about you outside,” I know he finally has to ask. At the same time, I know it’s finally time for me to lie.
“What did he ask you?” I question, managing a convincing mask of concern.
Thom is instantly the gentleman, saying: “I didn’t tell him anything.”
I should’ve known he would be on my side. He is a sweet man and I can’t help but reach up and touch his soft stubble. Like always when I touch him, he opens his mouth slightly and freezes, waiting f
