He looks up from the chair he’s sitting in at the kitchen table. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”
“Good.” I sit down across from him pouring myself a cup of coffee. “Work going well?”
He nods, setting his paper down. “Not bad.”
“You?”
“Really well. Juggling more projects than I ever dreamed of right now.”
He chuckles. “It’s funny to me sometimes when I think about your path and how successful you are versus my path. You just made this incredible life for yourself regardless of any obstacles.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You know how I am about school. I feel like it’s how you get ahead in life, but then you prove me wrong.”
I sip my coffee. “There are lots of examples of successful people who don’t have college degrees.”
“Yes, but no one I’m directly involved with.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”
“Only in the sense that Tristan is having a hard time in school. He called last week, and he’s just not as committed to it as he should be.”
Just hearing his name causes a flutter of lust inside. “What’s that got to do with me?”
Rocco smiles. “It’s hard to preach the value of education when your best friend is a prime example of the opposite.”
“Everyone’s on their own path. You, me, Tristan. He’ll figure it out.”
Rocco studies my face for a moment. “Have you spoken to him?”
I look up surprised. “Tristan?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Why would I?”
He half shrugs. “I don’t know. He seemed to be... comfortable with you. Maybe he talks to you. Tells you his problems.”
I should tell him. Right now. I should tell him I’m attracted to his son and that I want to see him again and that I want to text him or call him but I’m terrified of losing his friendship or making his kid drop school for me. I should tell him.
“About Tristan?—”
He lifts his hand. “Wait.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “Listen, I saw how close you were. I want to believe that I’m still his best friend, and I haven’t been replaced by you. I don’t think I could take it.”
“That’s ridiculous, Rocco. Of course I haven’t replaced you.”
Rocco nods, studying his mug. “I don’t want you with him, so if you did something I don’t want to know, but you have to let him go. You’re not right for him.”
I swear it feels like my blood is boiling. “I know my dating history hasn’t been great, but besides the obvious age difference, I’m dying to know why you think I’m such a terrible person.”
He looks up at me. “You know I don’t think that.”
“I used to know, but you’re so violently opposed to me being anywhere near your son. That says a lot. So what is it?”
“Do you want to be with him?”
“That’s not really what we’re discussing here. You’ve made more than a few comments about what kind of person you think I am when it comes to romance. Maybe some of it I agree with, but there’s more to it, so why don’t you just fucking get it out.”
