Page 22 of Catching Kyle

“So you’re saying that romance is the inferior genre because… it’s porn?”

I recoil. Bold of him to say.

“No, I’m saying that fantasy has been, and always will be, the superior genre because its messages inspire us to be better people, while romance just gives in to everyone’s basest desires.”

Now his face has gone to full on disgust. I didn’t think much of my words, but now I wish I could take them back.

“Romance does not give in to base desires any more than fantasy. Look at Game of Thrones. Would you say that fucking your sister is more inspiring or base?”

I shake my head. “That’s not—”

“And let’s compare that to, say, this Nora Roberts novel. Is defying gender roles inspiring? Absolutely.”

“But you’re comparing apples to oranges.”

“You were the one to draw the comparison in the first place! Listen. I have nothing against fantasy. But I am against the idea that anything is superior to romance because all romance is just porn.I,” he says, jamming his finger into his chest. “Love romance because it teaches me that love, even gay love, has room to thrive in this world.”

He spoke with the eloquence of before, but there is a fervor now—a fire, just like my childhood preacher had. This is personal.

I raise my hands defensively, wishing we never went down this rabbit hole. “I’m just saying my opinion.”

Michael huffs. “Then maybe you just don’t understand romance.”

I look at him. He has his arms folded, and he’s frowning down at the coffee table. Michael seems like a smart guy, and even though he’s a pornstar, it doesn’t seem like all he cares about is sex. Clearly, the romance—not just the physical intimacy—is important to him in these books.

“I may just be wrong then,” I say, shrugging.

Michael tilts his head at me as if that’s the most confusing thing I’ve said all day.

“I used to think like you,” he says. “I only read literary things. High-brow literature. It was like—have you ever watched SpongeBob?”

I recoil, the whiplash like a freight train hitting me. “Uh, yes?”

He laughs. “I’m sorry, but I promise it’s relevant. Remember that episode where Squidward tries a Krabby Patty for the first time?”

I light up. “Yes! I loved that episode!”

Michael nods, that infectious eloquence animating him. “You know how he tries it and then goes crazy, how he says ‘all those wasted years’, lamenting how he missed out on all the times he could have been having one? That was me when I read my first true romance novel as an adult. It wasBeach Readby Emily Henry.”

“I think I’ve heard of her,” I say.

“It was that book that taught me that romance was not only just as good everything else, but that it had its own strengths as a genre.”

I nod. “I may be willing to take a look at what she’s written then,” I say. “Maybe I’ll convert just like you.”

A smile forms on his face, and it feels like my insides are a pot of warm stew being stirred on a Winter day. I don’t want him to stop smiling at me. And damnit—that SpongeBob reference? He’s funny, too.

“You wanna read on top of what you already are doing with the Ruckers book club?” He asks. “A book a week is already a lot of reading.”

“I’m off season,” I say shrugging. “There’s only so much I can do besides working out. I can start with that book you suggested—Beach Read?”

He nods, leaning forward on his cushion. He’s beaming like I did as a kid when I was opening presents on Christmas morning. God, I love how earnest he is.

“And you know what? Maybe I don’t know fantasy as well as I thought. Why don’t you give me a suggestion for a book I should read as well?”

A grin forms on my face, but this time it’s not from being overconfident. “I read some romance, you read fantasy? I like it.”

“And you’re sure you still want to do the book club on top of this?”