A warm laugh spills out of me. "Well played, Mr. Adams. Well played."
"Why, thank you." He sounds genuinely pleased with himself, and I wouldloveto see him right now, hating that I only caught a glimpse of him across the crowded store.
What color are his eyes?
Does he have dimples when he smiles?
Is he blushing right now?
"And since I've divulged way too much about myself," he says. "I think you should even out the score and tell me something about you."
I've got no problem with that. I like to consider myself an open book. "Ask me anything. What would you like to know?"
He takes his time thinking about it, and then he comes out with the one topic I've spent close to the last two decades trying to put behind me.
"Why did you give up modeling?"
6
Darby
I press my back into the wall as soon as I ask the question and will myself toshut the hell up. I'm not an oversharer. I can read social cues. I know when to speak and when to listen.
But there's something about being locked in here—as nice a fitting room as it is—that is jumbling all of that up and making my mouth looser than a leaky faucet.
I have to admit, it's nice to be able to be free and honest with someone who seems to listen without judging. The truth is, I do feel bad about the sorry state of things with my family, and I do walk around with a certain degree of shame for liking older guys. Sky naturally doesn't, and as much as he encourages me to not to, I just can't seem to shake it.
He wants a Daddyis the first thing people think, and I know this to be true because it's often the first thing people say.
Idon'twant a Daddy. My attraction to older guys isn't about that. It's a deep pull, an allure, a connection I'm seeking that tugs at the very core of who I am.
Or they think I must have a terrible father, or it's some unprocessed trauma coming out in a sexual way, or I had a crush on my high school PE teacher.
All of those things may be true to some extent, but none of them offer the full, true explanation of where my thing for older guys comes from. I just like what I like. But I'd also never not be with a guy who isn't older.
I want someone who's kind. Reliable. Emotionally mature and available. Communicates well. Is confident without being cocky. Those are the most important things. Age is simply the cherry on top.
And if he happens to take the lead and be a little dominant in the bedroom? Then that's the cherry on top of the cherry on top.
But damn—did I have to hit Kip with my sexual preferences so up front like that?
"Are you still there?" I ask when a decent chunk of time lapses.
"Yeah, I'm here," Kip's deep voice reassures me. "I'm just thinking."
There's a shift in his tone that makes me think my question about his modeling career may have unintentionally struck a nerve.
"You don't have to tell me. I was just curious. We can talk about something else," I hedge as an uneasy feeling curdles in the pit of my stomach. "For example, we can attempt to diagnose how someone with such a hot speaking voice sings so badly."
I hear a light chuckle. "What I'm about to tell you isn't something I normally talk about, but since you've been so strong and brave, I'm inspired to take a leaf out of your book."
A warm feeling spreads through my chest, as if that's something to be proud of.
"Male modeling was a cutthroat industry," he begins. "In some ways, more so than female modeling because the opportunities for men were so much smaller and harder to come by back then. We were all battling for scraps. I was fortunate in that I had a very early 2000s look."
"Which for people who might be too young to know what that is, was…?"
"Right. Yeah. Of course… Do you remember Abercrombie and Fitch?"
