Ten
B e good and we’ll see.
Her voice low and husky, her breath warm on my overheated skin. A hand I half wish was hers trails across my collarbone. I’m alone in my bedroom, confused as all hell. A finger moves to trail the ear she whispered into, using my nail to graze the soft shell. When a shiver runs through my body, I can almost pretend it’s her doing it. It’s her driving me up the wall.
What the hell? I’m not sleeping anyway. I don’t want to think too hard about what this means for my sexuality as I kick off the covers, cool air from the ceiling fan hitting my skin. Or what it means for everything I thought I learned about myself over the past year. If this will only place me a few steps back or straight to the drawing board.
All I know is I don’t fight it when I turn over on my stomach and a hand roams my body. Up my stomach, strumming my already hardened nipples. Then back down, nails lightly grazing the hem of my underwear.
Lower.
I’m already wet, but that’s not a surprise. For all the time I’ve known Krystal, pined for her from afar, I’m not sure I’ve ever been aroused by her. Not until today. It’s not that I want to have sex with her, exactly. At least, I don’t think I do. That’s not the image in my head as my hand roams lower anyway. This feels more like a gray area between sexual arousal and sexual attraction—something new I don’t have a name for possibly.
Masturbation is usually enough for me. Have I been curious what someone else’s touch on my body would feel like? The sensation of hands and lips and tongues where only my own touch has been? Sure, but purely on a scientific level. My hypothesis: Would sex feel nearly as good as the way it looks in my head?
I have no idea.
Here’s what I know so far. It started with her warm breath on my neck, her hands on my body stoking the fire, the scent of her perfume clouding my senses, our thighs pressed together on the sofa. A heady mixture I can’t make heads or tails of.
That’s it.
That’s what’s driving up my libido, all those remembered feelings that keep my hand traveling down my body, that has me spreading my legs and dipping two fingers beneath the soft fabric to the ache it’s covering. A sigh leaves my lips at the first contact, but I can’t come from those memories alone. For that, I have to cycle through the usual fantasies as my fingers work over my clit. But even still, I can’t get Krystal’s face out of my brain. My thoughts are a confusing jumble I don’t understand until a wave of desire crashes over me, again and again. I collapse face-first onto the bed, my thighs shaking through the strongest orgasm I’ve had in months.
I roll to my side, avoiding my bad shoulder as I nestle back beneath the bedspread. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep, but I don’t have any answers by the time morning comes.
After starting a pot of coffee, I open my laptop at the kitchen table. I’m about to type into Google when I draw a blank. What am I supposed to put into a search engine to find the answers I’m looking for? I thought I was asexual until my hot bartender breathed on me? Please.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles me so bad, I close the laptop, revealing Julian’s suspicious face.
“What was that?” He arches a brow.
“None of your business.” I take a sip from my mug, avoiding his curious gaze. “There’s coffee if you want any.”
“Thanks.” He reaches for a mug from the cupboard. “Did you talk to Briana yet?”
Nope. And I’m not going to. Maybe it’s stupid, but I’m avoiding her and that whole situation for as long as possible.
“I know she texted you,” he says before I can brush him off. “I don’t know what happened between you guys, but you should probably clear it up before it blows out of proportion.”
“You mean before she blows it out of proportion.” I lift a brow and take another sip from my mug.
“You know how she is.” He waves me off, but I’m sick of being dismissed. The only reason I lied to her in the first place was because I was tired of being dismissed, harassed, and made out to be a freak just because I didn’t want to kiss a guy. “But she’s family.”
I don’t need to tell him blood relation doesn’t equal family. Not him, of all people. This is where we’ve always differed. He’s far too forgiving of the situations our family members put him in, and I hold on to even the smallest of grudges until I’m buried with them.
“What did Briana tell you, exactly?” I ask cautiously.
“That you’re lying on the internet for attention.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I know that,” Julian says. “They’re straight, so they don’t get it. You haven’t had any experiences that actually mean something to you. When I tried explaining that to them, they accused me of taking your side and then, well, it just got ugly from there.”
“What do you mean?”
“Briana’s hurt that she found out about your identity through the internet.”
I’m taken aback by this information, though judging from Julian’s reluctant expression, it has to be true. I kick out a seat and gesture for him to take it. He plops down with a raised brow.
“I lied to Briana and Esme the summer after high school,” I confess. “That’s why they think what I said on TikTok was a lie.”
“What did you lie to them about?”
“Do you remember when they used to make fun of me for having never been kissed? When the three of us were in high school?”
“Sure.” He nods. “They were kinda mean about it.”
“It went on for two years, and I was sick of it,” I tell Julian. “So, I lied about a summer fling to get them off my back. As much as I appreciate you giving me grace while defending me to them, I’ve never been kissed by anyone .”
“Oh.” He doesn’t look at me any differently, which I’m grateful for. Only mildly surprised. “I can’t say I blame you. They were pretty ruthless.”
“I shouldn’t have lied, though.” I shake my head. “Hell, I shouldn’t have told Esme I’d never been kissed to begin with. I should’ve just kept it to myself; then I wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.”
“Yeah, I learned that lesson from you,” he says dryly. When I cast him a look, he explains, “I didn’t have mine till last year.”
“Twenty-three’s not so bad,” I tell him. “Twenty-seven, on the other hand…”
“Is also not bad,” he says, and relief fills my chest. “No matter what anyone says.”
“They wouldn’t agree,” I reply. “So, Briana’s hurt I didn’t tell her, huh? Is Esme hurt too?”
“It’s a mix of hurt and jealousy, I think,” Julian says. “You know Esme’s been talking about becoming a beauty influencer for years. She’s still bitter her YouTube channel never took off. You should’ve heard her go off about the views you’re getting.”
“I’m glad I was spared that, actually.” I laugh. “And what did Briana say?”
“She’s confused and… angry. Not saying she’s justified in feeling that way, just that she is.” He shrugs. “She said she thought you guys were close enough that you would tell her something like that personally. That even a text would’ve been better than hearing it secondhand.”
Oh, she’s angry? What about me ? What am I supposed to be after what they put me through all of high school?
“I don’t owe her a goddamn thing. Either of them.” I scoff. “Even if I thought I did, if I tried to tell them the truth now, do you think they’ll really believe me?” He stares at me for a long time, but he doesn’t say a thing. “That’s what I thought.” Another sigh leaves my lips. “I don’t know what to do here.”
“I get where you’re coming from, but I think you still need to try.”
He’s right. I know he is, but I hate the person I become when I’m around them. Small and invisible and juvenile. Less adult, less than them, period. I swore to myself a long time ago that I’d never be that girl again.
“I will,” I tell him, even though I have no plans to. “Promise.”
Turns out I’m not done lying yet.