Page 65 of Alonzo

Tara makes a face. “Jesse Boston. Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Forget about him. Let’s take a shower.” I reach for her, but she puts up a hand.

“Hold on. I’m thinking clearer now. Thanks for the sex, by the way.” She sighs. “But… you haven’t explained why you lied to me.”

“Do we have to do this now?”

She throws up an incredulous hand gesture. “What the hell else are we gonna do?”

“Take a shower? You have my come all over your tits, your bra is in a spectacular arrangement of just-fucked disarray, and your t-shirt is ripped down the middle. The rest of you is naked. Is this really how you want to have this conversation?”

She takes off the t-shirt—which is more like a vest at this point—wipes the come off her tits, throws the shirt at my chest, and reaches behind her back to unclasp the bra. It drops to the floor. She shoves it aside with a flick of her toe and then plants her hands on her hips. “Better, Lonnie? Because I do not give a single fuck about what I wear when we have this conversation.”

“OK. But—”

“Oh, no, buddy. You don’t get to have this conversation wearing pants. Take them off.”

I laugh. “What?”

“You heard me. Take off your pants.”

“Fine. They’re half there already.” I slip my jeans down my legs. I’m commando today. Perks of a day off.

My cock is still half hard and my hand automatically reaches down and begins to tug on it.

Tara looks down at my hand, then back up at my eyes. “It’s not going to work.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sunshine.”

“I’m good now, Lonnie. I feel pretty good. Not even horny. Barely a tingle. So you can jerk off in front of me all you want. You’re not getting out of this conversation.”

“I’m not even trying to get out of it. I’m just… doing what comes naturally.”

“Mm-hm. OK. Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Start from the beginning.”

“The beginning is… ambiguous.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It is, Tara. I’m not trying to dodge your question. It’s just… when I met you on the dating app I didn’t ever think it would go anywhere. Just some sexting. Maybe a phone call. That’s it. So that’s the beginning of us. But the beginning of the lie? That started back when I was eighteen. I’ve been telling that lie for so long, it’s not a lie anymore. And before you ask me what the fuck that means, I can’t tell you. OK? I… think I love you, and I want you to stick around, but that doesn’t mean I have to spill all my secrets, Tara. I don’t owe you that. I owe you an explanation about why I lied and here it is. I didn’t think we’d be anything serious, I didn’t think you were telling me the truth either—that’s kind of how you play the online dating game, right? And, if I’m being honest, I kinda like being Lonnie the accountant. He’s a simple dude with primal needs. It’s not a bad way to live a life, if you ask me.”

She crosses her arms and stares at me for a few moments, clearly not convinced.

“So… you wanna tell me why you just went on a three-day road trip to my home town and showed up without luggage?”

She doesn’t say anything.

And that’s when I know. I mean, I kinda knew before. Even though I checked her out pretty thoroughly when we first started dating and I made her take all those proof photos. I knew she was hiding something. People without secrets don’t date like this. I always knew she was like me. And her silence right now just proves it.

“No?” I ask her. “Nothing to say? That’s fine with me.” I close the distance between us, erasing about three feet of space, and place both my hands on her shoulders.

She tilts her head up so she can look me in the eyes. “I have a lot to say about that, actually. But not yet. Because I have good reason to guard my secrets too. Especially when I just found out you’ve been lying to me for two whole years. We fucked. We needed to do that so we could think straight. And now we are thinking straight, so…” She shrugs. “I dunno what comes next. A shower, obviously. Since we’re standing naked in a bathroom.”

She looks around at it for a moment, taking in the marble tiles that cover the walls from floor to ceiling. The hazy beams of sunshine streaming through the skylight above the shower. The bench where I’ve jerked off to the image of her I’ve built in my mind over the years.