“How are you feeling since the Fourth?” Brandon asks when I’m finished. “Mateo said you were pretty shaken up.”
I shrug. “I’ve been better. You saw the whole thing, right?”
I mean, I wasn’t subtle about my exit. I was practically hyperventilating. He nods, looking almost guilty for having witnessed my breakdown. “Have you spoken to Derick since?”
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t even know what to say if I did.”
“Do you mind if I ask why you didn’t kiss him?” That’s the plaguing question. I shared a couch with him no problem. I shared memories and secrets and hurts and dreams with him even easier. Why was kissing him,kissing anyone, such an insurmountable hurdle? Aren’t I ready to cross this coming-of-age moment off my list? Lord knows there are many,manymore left to complete.
The bitter taste of uncomfortable truth tingles in my mouth. “I wasn’t ready.”
He nods thoughtfully. “Why do you think that is?”
“Part of me feels like I only want a first kiss because that’s how relationships start in the movies. That’s what those two expect of me.” I glance back over my shoulder. Mateo and Avery are still circling the buffalo enclosure, laughing with each other. I know they mean well, yet it’s still so much easier to talk to Brandon, to anyone else really, about all of this. Distance and fresh perspective are what I need right now. “It’s not that I don’t like him. I do. Really.” Jeez, that’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud. It sounds right,feelsright. So, what’s wrong?
Other than the fact that he asked me to be friends and then tried to kiss me. But mixed signals aside…
“Is it a connection thing?” Brandon asks.
I ponder for a moment. “Maybe? Yeah, probably. I’m not sure we’ve connected on the level where I feel comfortable initiating something like that. I’m attracted to him, but… It’s like, I know him but I don’tknowhim, if that makes sense. Mostly, I don’t know where High School Him ends and Current Him begins. I need to feel certain in who I’m kissing. I mean, a kiss isn’t just a kiss to me.” I realize how ironic that is considering the theme fromCasablanca, one of my favorite songs of all time, has a line that says the exact opposite.
It’s even worse that I sound so self-serious, but this is who I’ve always been. Hiding it hasn’t done me much good. I feel deep, love hard, and can’t fight it.
Brandon taps his chin and posits, “Maybe you’re demi.”
I blink in confusion. “Like, Lovato?”
He breaks into uproarious laughter. “No, not like Lovato. Like the romantic and sexual identity.” At my blank look, he adds, “It falls under the ace umbrella. It’s a spectrum, of course, but that’s where the community situates it.” His women-and-gender-studies expertise is showing.
These aren’t words I’m familiar with.
“Let me guess, you didn’t know sexual and romantic attraction were separate?” He takes stock of my panic-stricken eyes. “Don’t worry. You aren’t alone in that.”
I catch my erratic breath before I ask, “What exactly does ‘demi’ mean?”
“It can mean a lot of things for a lot of different people, but the textbook definition is about establishing a strong emotional connection with someone before feeling sexual or romantic attraction to that person.”
That would explain why I never find guys “hot” before I become close friends with them. But…
“Friendship is a form of intimacy,” he recites.
I can barely believe what I’m hearing—the connections that are clicking into place inside me. It’s not that I’m utterly unkissable or weird or a self-saboteur. It’s that all the guys I’ve crushed on before have rushed to use physical closeness to seal the deal when, maybe, I don’t work that way.
The other night, Derick barged in through the front door of my museum after hours instead of spidering in like a spy over the laser-beam grid. He set off the alarm. I need someOcean’s Twelve–level acrobatics and extensive heist planning before I can even consider completing the mission.
“And maybe,” Brandon continues, “kissing for you is part of your sexual attraction or your sensual attraction…”
“Wait, I have asensualidentity too?”
He clamps his lips closed so as not to laugh right in my face, a kindness when I’m clearly falling apart. Or coming together? “It’s a lot to process at once. There aren’t easy answers, and you don’t need to make any definitive decisions.”
“But I came out as gay. I can’t just walk it back.”
“Who says you can’t be both? Youcanbe both.” He wipes his sweat rag across the bridge of his nose. “Think of it as a bonus. That third camera lens on your iPhone. An added feature that helps you view your experiences more clearly. I can send you some online resources and podcasts about it if you want. Might be helpful. Even if it’s not you, it could help you understand better how you approach attraction.”
“I’d like that. Thanks.” I sit back on the bench. “Demi,” I whisper to myself. The syllables swirl around in the air. It lingers like I’ve sung an incantation that’s evoked a sexuality sprite who’s here to coat me in magical dust and whisk me off to the demi dimension.
Avery and Mateo rush over with their phones, interrupting my thoughts. “OMG, this view! I forgot how stunning it is! Let’s get a picture of all of us.”
