Chapter 43

As we stood there, looking at each other, I found that it puzzled me that he didn’t pursue that initial contact. I was well aware of his self-proclaimed prowess at sex, at picking up sexual partners in a very forward way. A momentary doubt came to me then, that perhaps it wasn’t the same for him with me—that this was affection rather than passion on his part.

He, meanwhile, was studying me, and now he gave a low groan.

“What?” I said.

“It’s that frown,” he said. “It’s back.”

“Oh,” I said. “It was gone?”

He nodded. I grimaced. “Sorry!”

But he shook his head. “No, no. Don’t be sorry, Keith.” He appeared to hesitate. Then, squeezing my hand, he said in a quiet voice, “I don’t want you to be anything but you.”

“I thought you wanted me to do better,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. That was your idea.” And now he was frowning slightly, so I desisted.

“Sorry!”

He put a finger over my mouth. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t apologize—so much.”