After a tour of the house, during which Donald remained interested but made few comments, we worked in the kitchen, preparing dinner. I had felt decidedly uneasy, walking through Father’s house with a man I was very likely to have s*x with at some point. If Donald noticed, it wasn’t evident. He was his usual playful self, and perhaps thanks to his ability to keep it light and not stray into areas that implied attraction, my anxiety largely subsided. I’d been afraid he might ask about my parents having separate bedrooms. If he was curious, he didn’t let me know it.
Even without anything overtly s****l, being here with him felt very different from how I had felt in Tegan’s kitchen. There I had nervously avoided her in the tiny space. Here, in my large kitchen, I found myself standing close
