Chapter 1 #11
I choke. I cough. I grab my water bottle and chug half of it. Why now. "I just—" she continues, completely calm, "I've been watching the way you…act around him lately. And honestly…I'm not blind."
This is it. We're done. Behind me, in the fucking closet, Gio is listening to all of this. Jesus Christ.
"Mom—"
"No, let me finish, sweetheart. Please." She gives me this soft look.
"I know things have always been…tense between you two.
But I've seen the way you look at him now.
The way he looks at you. And I just—" She pauses.
Smiles faintly. "I've always liked him. You know that.
Don't tell your father, but I think he's… good for you."
Wait a fucking minute. What? That's not what she just said. That can't be what she means. I was mentally prepared for a lecture. A fucking guilt trip. A "we raised you better than this." At minimum a disappointed sigh and some speech about God. I search her face, trying to find the sarcasm.
The trap. Nothing. I sit up straighter. "Wait…what?"
"Come on. Don't act surprised. You already knew I liked him. I always did. He's different around you. And you laugh more. You're barely home these days, too…and your car is here. I'm not dumb."
What the actual hell is happening right now?
Is this a trick? A decoy? Did I miss a whole conversation?
Did Gio bribe her? Did someone swap my mother with a cooler, less emotionally repressed version?
Because I am fully prepared to lie. I have stories ready.
A backup plan. A fake excuse for why Gio might be in my room.
Instead, she's saying he's good for me?
What did I miss? When did this become safe?
"It's not—"
"I don't need you to explain anything," she says. "But I want you to know…if something's happening between you two, really happening, I'm not going to judge you for it."
I can barely look at her. And in the closet, he is hearing every word. She stays sitting there.
"You can talk to me, don't be scared," she says gently. "Your father's not here."
Yeah. He's not. But the man we're talking about is literally in the fucking closet. Right there. Listening to us.
"Mom, please—"
"No, baby, it's okay." Her voice drops into that gentle tone she uses when I got sick as a kid. "I just want to understand. Have you always known you were bisexual? Are you still trying to figure it out or…?"
Oh God. My eyes shoot toward the closet, then back to her. I try to speak. Nothing comes out. She leans forward. "Have you and Gio…done anything?"
My hands clench around the arms of the chair.
"Mom stop—"
"You don't have to be embarrassed," she whispers. "Please, just tell me. I won't tell anyone. I promise."
My heart is on fire. My brain is sliding off its axis. I can't do this. I stay silent. She stares at me for a few seconds. She smiles. "I'll take that as a yes."
This cannot be real life. I cannot believe I'm having this conversation with my mother.
I cannot believe I'm having it now.
I cannot believe I'm having it while Gio is literally hidden behind a sliding wooden door with my winter coats and my suitcase.
"Mom," I say, "can we…not?" She raises an eyebrow. "But I'm not judging," she says gently. "I just want to know if you're okay."
I want the floor to open and swallow me whole.
"So?" she asks, eyes twinkling now. "How was it?"
I almost cry. I laugh. Someone please shoot me in the head. A sharp, stupid, disbelieving sound comes out of me. I pull off my glasses and rub my face like I can squeeze the moment out of existence.
"It was...fine," I mutter. My voice is weird. I am glowing red.
She tilts her head. "You've been so happy lately. Is there any chance that maybe…you actually love him? I'm not judging, I love him too, you already know th—"
"Oh my GOD, mom." I jump up from the chair. I grab her gently but firmly by the arm.
"Okay, okay, no. Enough. I love you. I really do. But I can't." I start guiding her toward the door. "Not now. Not here. Please. We will talk about this later, I promise."
She laughs. "I'm not judging, Rava!"
"I know, and that's worse somehow—"
"You can tell me—"
"Later, okay? I swear. Just—please go."
I open the door. She walks out slowly, smiling like she's just won something. "I love you too," she says before I shut the door. The moment it clicks shut, I press my forehead against it. I stay there. Completely and utterly ruined. I lean against it for a second. Then I turn. Slowly.
The closet is still shut. I walk to it, embarrassed as fuck. I open it. He is still there. Sitting down, back against the inside wall, one arm draped lazily over his knee, the other tapping slow circles against his thigh.
His eyes lock on me the second the door opens. I can’t even look at him right now. I'm still trying to recover from the fact that I had a literal sex talk with my mother while he was hiding in the closet and then she basically said, "you're glowing, sweetie, keep fucking with him."
I might never emotionally recover.
"So..." His voice is silk dipped in sarcasm. "How long have you been in love with me?"
I want to die. Right there. Collapse.
Bury myself in the floorboards. "Please don't."
I rub my temples. "Just—don't do this."
"Do what?"
He stretches a little, still in the closet, knees drawn up.
"Ask valid follow-up questions? Try to process the fact that I just listened to your mother have a very heartfelt conversation about your bisexual crisis while my ass was jammed between your winter coats?"
I shut my eyes. "God."
"I mean, she was sweet. Really. Supportive. Almost made me tear up. I always knew she was a real one." I drop onto the bed, red all over. He stays where he is. Still sitting inside the damn closet. "And the 'it was fine' part?" he continues.
"Rava. Baby. You're breaking my heart."
I groan into my palms. "Can we please pretend that never happened?"
"Nope." He grins. "That one's staying with me. Maybe I'll get it tattooed on me. 'It was fine'—right over my heart."
"You're a demon."
"I'm your demon, apparently." I look at him. He stays in the closet a little longer.
Then slowly, he shifts. One knee hits the floor first. Then the other. He crawls out. I sit frozen on the bed. He stands up. Rolls his neck like he's just waking up from a nap.
"Cozy in there," he says. "But I think I prefer this view." His eyes drag over me.
I hate him. Except not at all. He takes a step closer. "So?" Another step. "Should we talk about it?"
"About what."
"You know what." He leans forward slightly.
"You. Me. Love. Closets. The usual."
I shut my eyes. I fall back on the bed, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. What am I supposed to say now?
I feel awkward.
I don't want it to go there tonight.
Not when my head is already a mess. I definitely don’t want to open my mouth and accidentally tell him I feel something.
He steps closer, grabs my wrists gently and pulls me back up, dragging me into a sitting position in front of him. I look straight into his eyes, but I don't say anything.
"She said you were happier lately."
I look away.
"You think that's 'fine' too?"
My jaw clenches. He leans down, real close to my ear.
"Because to me, it feels fucking phenomenal."
"Stop. You don't get to act like this isn't a big deal." I look up at him. "You don't get to tease me like I'm some game when I'm still trying to breathe after what just happened."
"I'm not playing, Rava." He reaches out. Fingers brush my jaw. "You look good when you're flustered," he says softly. "Like your brain can't decide whether to punch me or ride me."
My eyes widen. "Oh, please."
His thumb traces my lower lip. "Relax," he whispers.
"No one's getting ridden."
Pause.
"Yet."
He steps back. Turns. Walks to the window. "This was fun." He lifts the window. "Terrifying. Hot. Probably illegal. Ten out of ten." He looks back at me once more. "Best closet experience of my life." And then he is gone.
I stand there for a second. Window half open. Lips swollen. Closet door still cracked. And then it hits me. All of it. All at once.
She knows.
My mom…
She knows.
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. I spin around the room like a maniac.
"What the fuck was that?!" I run a hand through my hair, pace once. Almost trip on the goddamn rug. She KNOWS. And she's fine with it. Worse, she likes him.
SHE LOVES HIM. My mom loves Gio. She thinks he's good for me. And it's not just her. My brother Jin talks to him about basketball like they're best friends now.
And my sister looks me dead in the eye every other day and goes, "Honestly, I'm team Gio." Like this is a fucking reality show. I groan, drop to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, face in my hands.
It was supposed to be hard and complicated. That's how I survive it. If everyone hates him, like dad does, if they warn me away, make it feel dangerous, stupid, wrong, maybe I could walk away.
Maybe I'd have to. But now I’ve got a mother who calls it love. And a house full of people who have already picked a side. And it's not mine.
It's his. And I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do with that.
9) You’ve Been Blessed
Rava
My mom and I are on the way to pick up Noah from the airport. I'm not gonna lie, it's awkward as fuck. The whole drive. We both know why.
The more I think about the fact that my mother currently knows I'm having sex with a man, the more I want to open the car door, roll onto the highway and let natural selection handle it.
Just launch myself into the road. Let me die. Honestly, I'd feel less embarrassed than I do right now. And it's not shame because it's Gio. That's actually the flex part. If anything, a little voice in my head is like, hell yeah, at least your questionable life choices are hot.
It's the fact that it's my mom. And I don't care that I'm twenty-two, it's still weird as hell. On one hand, she's my mom and I love her, and I hate having secrets from her. On the other hand, I can't do this.