He just shrugs. “How would I know? I didn’t know him then.”
I give Jazz another once over. Yeah, definitely hot, but not quite a match for his dad if you ask me—he doesn’t have Tanner’s piercing blue eyes. “Interesting. But no offense or anything, buddy, I think your dad’s way hotter.”
Jazz just smirks at me. “None taken,buddy. I think your friend’s way hotter,” he says with a nod at Deacon.
I clutch a hand to my chest, letting out a dramatic gasp. “Youlie!”
Jazz laughs softly and hits Deacon with a questioning brow raise.
“Two whiskey sours, thanks.”
Jazz nods, the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Damon’s specialty. Good choice.”
Then he strides back to the bar and I find my gaze following after, a little intrigued.
“Donotgo there,” Deacon says firmly.
“Huh? Go where?”
“My boyfriend’s son. It’s a no, Skyler. There are plenty of other guys you can hook up with—”
I snap my attention back to Deacon, frowning in confusion. “These words aren’t making sense right now. Why are you acting like me trying to pick that guy up is even a remote possibility?”
“Because he’s hot and queer and is only interested in casual sex—”
I hold a hand up. “Okay, if it were actually necessary for you to talk me out of this, you’d be failing epically right now. Fortunately for you, I’m not interested.”
“Because he’s not as hot as Tanner?” Deacon asks with an eye roll.
“Because he’s not Jackson,” I say shortly, starting to get a little irritable. I’m not sure why this is a thing; did I just imagine the events of last Sunday morning?
The confusion flickering over Deacon’s features is almost comical. “But…I thought…”
“What? That Jackson rejected me so I would just start catting around again?”
He shrugs and averts his gaze.
“I told you on Sunday—you can’tunseesomething. The blindfold’s off now, and there’s no putting it back on. The mere thought of being with another guy just feels completely wrong to me. Besides, pretty sure Jazz is spoken for,” I add with another glance toward the bar, where the younger man is currently engaged in conversation with a superhot bartender. The sexual energy surrounding them is so blatant they may as well be standing under a flashing neon sign that says “WE’RE BANGING!”
Deacon’s brows shoot up in obvious skepticism. “What? No he’s not. He’s even more of a commitment-phobe than you are. No way in hell is he in a relationship.”
I shrug. “If you say so. But for the record, I amnota commitment-phobe—I’m a hundred per cent committed to Jackson. That’s my future.”
Concern fills Deacon’s gaze. “But Jackson doesn’t…I mean…that could be a lonely life, Sky.”
I shake my head. “No it won’t be. I thought the way I felt about him was going to destroy everything we have. But what we have can’t be destroyed. We’re symbiotic beings. We need each other. So I can guarantee the word “lonely” won’t be in my future, because I’ll always have Jackson,” I say confidently. I know the situation isn’t exactlyideal, and I certainly didn’t handle everything brilliantly earlier in the week, but over the past few days as Jackson and I have explored this new aspect of our relationship further, and as I’ve learned more about asexuality a lot of my initial doubts have eased and I can now look forward to building a future—in whatever form it might take—with the person I’ve loved most in the world for two decades.
Deacon arches an eyebrow. “What you’re describing is co-dependence.”
I shrug. “Symbiosis sounds nicer.”
Deacon lets out a wry huff, shaking his head. “Okay, but, what about…you know…”
I quirk a brow at him. “Is this you clumsily trying to avoid calling me a sex addict again?”
He winces. “To be fair, I never called you one the first time.”
I shrug half-heartedly. “Whatever. I know it’s what everyone thinks, and it’s fine. I haven’t exactly provided much evidence to the contrary. But, honestly, all the screwing around—that started out as…kind of a security blanket, I guess you could call it, when I went off to college without Jackson there.” At Deacon’s puzzled expression, I explain, “It’s never really been about the sex. That was a fun bonus, but what I was actually looking for from those guys was…validation.” I avert my gaze to the surface of the table, watching my forefinger trace a small figure eight as shame prompts heat to rise in my cheeks. “Yeah, I know how pathetic that is. I wasn’t aware I was doing it at first, and then after a while it became kind of addictive. And I didn’t really see any harm in it, so…” I shrug, and then lift my gaze to meet Deacon’s. “But no matter how much of a rush I got from all those guys praising me and desiring me and all that, it absolutely paled compared to the feeling of Jackson’s arms around me, or his hands in my hair, or the sight of his face lighting up when he sees me. So that’s how I know I don’t need any of that shit anymore. I never really did in the first place, I was just…filling a void I guess.”
