No pretending.
Only uncertainty.
“You’re not that boy I remember anymore,” she said softly.
The words settled between us.
I turned toward her.
“What am I, then?”
Her breath caught.
“A man.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Michelle stood suddenly.
“I should go to bed.”
“Michelle—”
She stopped.
For several seconds, she faced away from me.
Then she said, “Tomorrow, come walking with me.”
The next afternoon, we followed a wooded trail near the river.
For twenty minutes, neither of us mentioned the night before.
Finally, Michelle stopped beside an empty bench.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
“Neither did I.”
She sat.
I joined her.
Wind moved through the trees.
“I’m your mother’s friend,” she said. “I’ve known you a long time. There are reasons this is complicated.”
“I know.”
“And there are reasons people would judge it.”
