“Does your family know?” I said. “I mean, do you tell them about…”

“About being a polyamorous bisexual who believes in sexual freedom? Absolutely.” He smiled. “Makes it easier that my parents are total hippies, and kids don’t have the same hang-ups adults do. My sisters know that their big brother has a lot of love to give, and love is beautiful.”

“So you’re the romantic one,” I said. “I should have known.”

“I’ve had the most practice. Jason is a sucker for romantic shit, even though he denies it.”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. I love all those bastards, obviously, but love is a little different with every person you share it with. Sometimes it’s passionate and romantic, or deep and platonic, or any combination in between. A lot of people don’t understand it, but I don’t need anyone’s understanding. I accepted that a long time ago.”

Half the time, I felt the same way. No one needed to understand me or my reasons. I didn’t have to justify myself. But the other half of the time, insecurity reared its ugly head and reminded me that when people moved too far outside what society understood, you’d swiftly find yourself rejected.

“Do you have any other hidden talents?” I said, turning to face him. He kept his arms around me, as if we’d been touching for years instead of mostly avoiding each other. That was the thing with Vincent; things felt comfortable. They felt intimate without any effort.

He smiled down at me in that wicked way of his again, before he held up one finger in a just-you-wait motion. He walked back to the car and opened the trunk, where he’d stored the mysterious box of toys he’d bought in the sex shop. I’d only got a glimpse — there was something that looked like a blue alien dick in there — but seeing him rummage through it sent a zing of excitement down my spine.

When he straightened up again, he had a coiled length of braided black rope in his hands.

“Ooh, let me guess,” I said. “You were a really enthusiastic Boy Scout?”

“Very.” He stood in front of me, slowly running the rope through his fingers. “I always had a thing for knots. I wanted to know the most, and I wanted to be the fastest at tying them. There was a game we used to play…silly kid games, you know? Some of us would be pirates and some of us would be sailors, and my favorite part was capturing as many sailors as I could and tying them up.”

He looked like a pirate. Long-haired, mischievous, dangerous. “That doesn’t sound like a game kids should play.”