“From a few seconds to a few minutes.”
My stomach churns with guilt. “Does it hurt?”
Quinn shakes his head. “Frustrating,” he grates out. “Sit.”
I can see why Rubin referred to it as an art room. A drafting desk and tall stool sit under the window, complete with artwork in progress and a thick pile of paper with dozens of Post-It Notes sticking out from all angles. Beside it is a normal-height desk covered in art materials. There’s a huge, body-sized bean bag and two smaller ones shaped into chairs. Rubin helps Quinn to the giant-sized bean bag. He lies with his hand tucked under his cheek, eyes opening and closing slowly.
“Bad or frequent cataplexy attacks make me sleepy.” Quinn’s voice is back to normal. “I might nap while you talk. Sorry.”
“Quinn,” Rubin says.
Quinn waves his hand. “I know. I know. I shouldn’t apologise.” He smiles at me. “Stop looking like you’ve just lost the Crown Jewels. I’m fine.”
I wipe a hand over my face as if it will change my expression.
“So you kissed Rory,” Rubin says.
“Yes. I’ve never kissed a man before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“I guess. It just…came out of the blue.”
Rubin arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
I half close my eyes and think back. “Rory and I were close as kids.”
“How close?”
“Really close, but—” I bite my lip and shake my head. “I moved away, and we lost touch.” They don’t need to know more than that.
“Have you ever looked at another man and thought they looked hot or sexy?”
“Handsome, maybe. But that doesn’t mean anything, does it?”
Rubin shrugs. “You tell me.”
“I’ve watched the Thor movies several times.”
Rubin sighs. “Chris Hemsworth.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. “He’s attractive.”
“It’s the muscles, isn’t it?”
“Definitely.” I clear my throat. “Do I fancy Chris Hemsworth?”
“I don’t know. Do you?”
“Rubin,” Quinn mutters. “I’m not sure this is helping.”
“No. It is. I think.” I scratch my jaw. “I’m confused.” Which is why I ran away. “Rory”—I inhale sharply—“is the best friend I’ve ever had. Even after seventeen years apart, we click. We fit together. It was awkward at first, but now it’s comfortable. He’s the first person I think of when I need to talk to someone. I’m not making any sense.”
“You’re making perfect sense,” Rubin says.
“Are you bisexual?” I ask.
“No. Pansexual.”
