American Honey Read online

  His shoulders lost some of their stiffness. “I am curious about it.”

  That was good enough for me. “Come on.” I got out of the car and grabbed my stuff out of the back. He was right behind me as I went up to my front door. I wish I knew what he thought of it. Sure, it probably just looked like a big shed to some people, but I had a porch with a rocking chair, and I had more windows than I had siding and my roof had four skylights.

  I opened my front door for him and tried not to feel self-conscious about a space that I’d designed myself and absolutely loved as I put my beekeeping equipment back in their places. “Do you want some tea or anything? Or I’ve got some soda if you want.” I turned back to him to see him looking at my collection of books.

  “You like to read.”

  That was pretty obvious. “There’s a lot to know about bees. I’ve got almost every book on beekeeping that’s worth having.”

  “I could use a soda.”

  Nodding, I grabbed him a can, along with a glass and some ice. I didn’t want to assume. For myself I grabbed my tumbler. I still had some iced mint tea with honey in it from earlier in the afternoon. I brought his drink to him and stood beside him as he continued to look over my library.

  “You don’t lock your front door?”

  “No need to. You have to really be looking for me to be able to find my house.” He took the drink from me. Just the can. I put the glass and ice back. “So, this is me.” There really wasn’t much of a tour to give him. From the front wall where he was standing, he could see all the way to the back wall where my bed was. The only thing he couldn’t see was the bathroom, which was behind the wall my bed was against.

  “Can you handle our age difference?” he quietly asked me.

  I didn’t know if he was genuinely asking me, or if this was some kind of a test. “You being almost forty doesn’t bother me at all.”

  “The stupid thing is that you lying to me, even though I understand why you had to, actually bothers me a lot more than your age. I can’t handle any more lies.”

  I followed him over to my couch and we sat down together. “Your ex?” I guessed.

  He nodded and drank most of his soda down. “My ex,” Cal confirmed for me. “He cheated, in case you were wondering. And he thought I was doing the same, since of course all strippers cheat I guess.”

  “I don’t think that.” And I couldn’t really see why someone would make that kind of broad generalization either. A person’s profession didn’t make them any more or less likely to cheat on someone they were supposed to be monogamous with. That was all on the person.

  “You’re so young.”

  I rolled my eyes. It sounded like he’d insulted me. “You think because I’m nineteen I’m somehow naive? Sure. We’ll go with that,” I said with a snort. I couldn’t help the fact that I was trying not to laugh at him. He wanted to say that my age somehow made me dumb or something and that simply wasn’t the case. Sure, I hadn’t dated a lot yet. I hadn’t even had a real kiss yet. But I knew things and I understood them, and Cal didn’t just get to brush that aside because he thought I was too young to know any better.

  Cal finished off his soda before saying anything more. “Do you think you could try to not lie to me anymore?”

  “Sure. No big lies and if I have to lie, it’ll be about something really small. Like, if you ask me if I’ve got anything planned for your birthday and I’m like nope, not at all, but of course I would.”

  He cracked a smile for me at that at least. “I was with him for five years. Five years ago, you were in, what? Middle school? Shit.”

  He needed to stop thinking about things like that. “High school. Fourteen is high school here. And when I was an infant you were probably already getting laid or something. I get it. You’re older than me. That’s not going away. But I like you. And since you’re sitting here in my house and we’re talking about this, I think it’s safe to say that you like me, too. So maybe you should think about how much this age difference really bothers you, because I can promise you that even though I’m just nineteen, I’m not like any other teenager you’ve ever met.”

  Cal tilted his head back, leaning it over the back of my couch. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about dating someone right now. I literally broke up with Travis four months ago. He’s still living in my house. That’s not a way to start a relationship.”

  Maybe it was and maybe it wasn’t. And yeah, I didn’t love the idea of being his rebound guy, but maybe I didn’t have to be either. “We could go slow,” I offered. “Then, if it’s an issue for you, we’re not deep into anything. You can leave at any point. I’m not asking for the rest of your life here, Cal, I’m just asking for a chance. I’m just here, saying ‘hi, I like you,’ and hoping that you like me too.”

  He turned toward me and offered me his hand. I instantly slid my fingers into his. “I do like you.” He said it like he was confessing to some big dark secret. It didn’t have to be like that at all. Us being together could be a really good thing, but he had to be the one to admit that to himself because I was pretty sure that no matter what I said to him, it wasn’t going to make a difference as long as he kept thinking that I was too young or too naive to date him.

  “I should get home,” Cal said after a few more moments.

  Yeah, he probably should. But I didn’t want to see him go either. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

  “You okay if I text you or call you or something later this week?”

  He was still holding my hand. I nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” He got up and even though the door was right there, I still walked him to it. I was sorry to see him go and I did want him to stay longer, but I really couldn’t change that at all.

  Chapter Six

  Cal

  I couldn’t believe I was seriously considering dating someone who was literally half my age. But that’s where I was when I pulled up to my house.

  It was too bad that Travis and I weren’t friends. I needed a friend, the kind that we’d been originally. I wanted my best friend back. Maybe in a few years or something we could be friends. Maybe. I didn’t really hold out much hope for that happening.

  I needed to be with someone who was more secure in himself and my relationship with him. But how could that person be a nineteen-year-old? That seemed completely wrong. Teenagers were supposed to be immature and reckless. They were supposed to fall and make mistakes and screw up. I’d been that kind of a teenager. But Dillon didn’t act like he was at that point in his life.

  I had no idea what to do about my attraction to him. If this was just sex. If I was just interested in a quick screw, then I could probably forget about his age. I could enjoy him for a few hours and then be done with him. But I wasn’t looking for that. I knew how good life could be with someone I really loved and cared about. I knew what it was to want to build a life with another person, to have shared dreams and goals and to really form everything I was into something that was really everything about them. I couldn’t do a casual relationship. Not ever again. But I didn’t know if I could have something as serious as what I wanted with someone who was so much younger than myself.

  Travis’s truck was in my driveway.

  I went inside before he could notice that I was in the driveway sitting there with the lights on.

  There was a chocolate cake still in the package waiting for me. Thick purple icing spelled out I’m Sorry as if Travis needed to say it any more than he already had. I’d heard him the first dozen or so times. It didn’t change what he’d done or what he’d put me through.

  He was still up, and I nodded to him as I pulled down a plate for myself. “Are you joining me in cake?” I called over. He wasn’t on my couch at least this time.

  “Am I welcome to?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a big cake. I don’t think I can finish it myself before it goes stale. So, sure.”

  He got up and came over to me. He tried to hug me, but I s
hook my head. I wasn’t in a hugging mood. I pulled myself onto the counter as I quietly dug into the cake. “Thanks for getting it for me.”

  “Yeah. Were you out on a date tonight?”

  I wouldn’t have really called it a date. “I had dinner with the beekeeper and his family.”

  Travis slumped a little. It was like I was watching him get smaller right in front of me.

  “We’re not dating,” I assured him. Even though I didn’t have to. He had no business judging me for what I did or even knowing about my social life.

  If anything, he seemed to deflate even more. “No, I know we aren’t.”

  It was too late for this. I didn’t need to help Travis get through this or get over me or whatever he was doing. He’d done the wrong thing here. I just wanted to eat my cake and then go to bed. “No, the beekeeper and me. We’re not dating. It was just dinner.”

  “But his family was there. So it must have been kind of serious. Right?”

  Maybe it was. I tried to remember how long I’d been dating Travis before I’d met anyone that was important to him. Like me, he had no family in the picture. But he had had friends back then. They were all gone now, like mine were from that time period of my life as well, but I was pretty sure we’d all gone out together about six months into my relationship with Travis. “I doubt anything will happen though. He lied about his age. And I don’t handle lies very well.”

  It wasn’t supposed to be a jab at Travis, but by his flinch I knew he’d taken what I’d said badly.

  “I wasn’t implying anything,” I hastily said. Maybe, if we could ever be friends again in the future, then we could get beyond this stupidity of where I was walking on eggshells around him. I hated it. I hated feeling like I had to protect his feelings, protect him, all the time when I was the one who had been hurt by what he’d chosen to do.

  “Is he older than he said? He couldn’t have been more than thirty, if that,” Travis said. He was trying to brush aside my comment, so I did, too.

  “I wish he was anywhere near thirty. He’s nineteen.”

  Travis pressed his lips together, but then he cracked out laughing. “Sorry, I mean, it’s just... Sorry.”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, I get it. But yeah, he’s way too young for me.” If only I could stop thinking about him.

  “Gonna let him down easily then?”

  I would have to. I didn’t want to hurt him. I wasn’t interested in hurting teenagers who had a crush on me. “Would it be so wrong to date him, though?”

  Travis was no longer looking quite so amused with me and my little predicament. “You’re going to leave me for a teenager? Seriously?”

  I stared at him for a full minute as I tried to come up with something calm to say that wasn’t telling him to shove his hypocrisy up his ass. “I wouldn’t be leaving you for anyone. I left you because you couldn’t keep your ass off another man’s cock.” I was only half done with my slice of cake, but I was suddenly done with being around him. “Goodnight.” I cleaned up my mess and then I went up to my room.

  I laid there alone in my bed and sighed. I felt stuck and unable to do anything to move my life forward while Travis was still living with me. To that end, I texted Dillon. I am interested but I can’t do anything about even the possibility of there being an us while my ex is still living with me. He should be gone at the end of the month. At least I really hoped that he would be. I needed him gone. He was wearing on my last nerve.

  Okay. I get it. I can wait.

  I’d left him over two hours ago. I was surprised that he was still up. What are you doing up?

  Reading an article about American Foulbrood. I’ve never dealt with it but it’s good to know what’s going on lately in treatments and such.

  I’d never even heard of it but then again, I didn’t know a whole lot about bees in general. It sounds like a bad thing.

  It is. If you get it you pretty much have to burn the hive and the bees to be able to kill off the disease. I’m really glad I’ve never run into it. I’ve heard horror stories from people who have.

  I cringed at the idea of having to destroy a hive because of something but it did sound serious the way he talked about it.

  Are you over my age then? he asked me.

  I honestly had no idea. I’m working on it. That was the best answer I could give him. It would have to be enough.

  Travis came up to go to bed, but I heard him stop just outside my door. He moved on, thankfully. Are you really not jealous at all? I can’t deal with another jealous guy. I wouldn’t know until we were in a situation where he thought he had a reason to be jealous of course but I was desperate to weed out jealousy before it ruined another of my relationships.

  I’m not gonna be happy about seeing you having sex with another guy but kissing and touching is part of your work, right?

  He sounded so completely reasonable. I was amazed that he could sound so mature. I needed to stop thinking of him as a teenager, even though he was one. Generally, yes. How you had your private dance, that’s how they are.

  I expected him to bring up the way I’d kissed his neck, or that I’d asked him if he wanted more.

  Then that’s fine. My philosophy is that if you want to be with someone then you will be. What I’d like though is that if you’re feeling like you need to cheat, then you just go ahead and break up with me before it happens. I try to have as little drama in my life as possible. Worrying about what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with whenever you’re at work doesn’t actually work for me.

  I stared at his message for a long time, simply blinking at it as if the words would suddenly change. But there they were, coming from what appeared to be a completely rational nineteen-year-old. Are you sure you’re a teenager?

  His next text was a picture of his license, his real one, complete with his real age. He really was only nineteen.

  Do you want to see pictures or anything? I have them if you do. You’re not the first older guy I’ve tried to date. Pretty much everyone wants pictures.

  I could easily guess what kinds of pictures he was referring to, and as much as I wanted to even the score and see him with almost nothing on, like he’d seen me, I didn’t need that from him. How old is the oldest guy you’ve ever wanted to be with?

  52.

  I swallowed back my surprise. I had no idea where he would have even met a guy that old to begin with. Was he a creep? That was my first thought, of many. I imagined some old man trolling for teenage boys in some eighteen and older club in Springfield.

  He’s another beekeeper. I took his seminar last summer. Before we could even go out on our first date, he decided he couldn’t handle my age after all. I’m hoping you’re different.

  So, not the creep then, but still not much better maybe. I thought about what it would actually be like to date someone his age. Where I would even take him. It was hard thinking in terms of that, in terms of his age and what I would do with him around. So I tried to think about just him. Did I have anything even in common with a beekeeper? I liked honey, and I was attracted to him, despite how much I was trying to deny it. But was that really enough to start something with him?

  I believed in leaving a person better than how I’d found them if I was going to be with them. That was, of course, if they didn’t screw up before I could leave them like Travis had. I had questions. I wanted to know if this was really going to be the best decision for us both.

  What about your family? I wouldn’t date him if this was going to make his life with his family hard.

  You’d be dating me, not them.

  He had a point, but still, they were a big part of his life. It was late. I needed to let him get some sleep. I’m going to get some sleep. Goodnight.

  Night.

  Even though I’d said goodnight to him, I still stayed up well after I’d sent him that last text. I started off by Googling him. I wanted to know more about Dillon. Maybe he had a Facebook pag
e or something. I really just needed to know what kind of a teenager I was thinking about dating here.

  Instead of pictures with his tongue out and his shirt off, like I’d expected to find, given what little I knew about teenagers, I saw articles written by him on beekeeping. Something called European Foulbrood which seemed a lot more manageable than the American kind he was telling me about. There was another on how to keep a hive surviving through winter. It seemed that he was a regular contributor to a few different beekeeping magazines, both online and in print. He did have an online profile, but everything he posted was about bees, beekeeping, or it was a link to some song he liked. There were plenty of pictures of his family, too, and lots of him with his hives. But it wasn’t the profile of some teenager just looking to have some fun with an older man and get laid in the process. I’d been completely wrong about him on that level.

  By contrast, my own profile was a lot of me and my friends at work. I didn’t have a shirt on in any of them, because I generally didn’t wear them when I was working. And since I didn’t have any family and no real friends outside of work, all of the personal pictures I had up were of me and Travis. Us kissing, us cuddling, us on vacation together. Five years of memories all left there to remind me. He was still my friend on Facebook. I wouldn’t unfriend him. But I hadn’t changed my relationship status either. Four months I’d been single, and I was still listed as being with him.

  I clicked a few buttons and suddenly I was single on my profile again for the first time in years. It hurt to see it there. More than I’d thought that it would.

  Everyone I was close to knew that I’d broken up with him. I hadn’t said the specifics, but I was sure a lot of them figured something pretty serious had happened. I’d gone from talking about him every day to never mentioning him at all. And having him show up at the club the other night certainly hadn’t helped anything.