Voss does.
You hear a lot of people compare making out to something teenagers do a lot, and okay, sure. But teenagers are inherently bad at it. Not their fault, of course. They’re learning on their own. They’re learning from their peers, who are equally uneducated and with limited experience.
Kissing Voss is nothing like making out as a teenager. This is sensual. There’s no awkward exchange, no excess spit—which I think is a preference, but to me, it’s gross. There’s not too much teeth, or tongue, or bad breath.
His hands don’t move over my body in a way teenagers do. But he still touches me. It’s soft, affectionate. Like petting. The kind that feels admiring.
I get that feeling because as my fingers trace over his bare back, I’m in awe of the lean muscle. His hard lines. The definition of his arms. The softness of his hair. The scratch of the stubble on his chin.
There’s something not quite put together about him. Like I’m getting a private peek at the part of Voss that the world doesn’t see. The part that isn’t professional all the time.
“Want to know something?” he asks.
“What?”
“I’ve been secretly waiting for a bi-awakening since I was a teenager.”
I raise my eyebrows and then laugh. “Seriously?”
“Mhm. Remember all the sexuality studies I did? We just talked a bit about it.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have several hypotheses, and one of which is that everyone is bisexual to some extent, whether they’re calling thatone exceptionenough to identify that way. It’s not truly about identity as it is about the sexuality spectrum. I don’t actually care how everyone identifies. There’s a reason ‘girl crush’ and ‘guy crush’ are such big, universally recognized terms for straight people.”
“Huh.”
“So yeah. Hypotheses are only useful if you can test them. I’ve made a few observations in my life. Most closely, Loren. So I’ve been waiting for me to be my own test subject. But I refused to put myself ‘out there,’ so to speak, because my hypotheses are all about natural environment and self-honesty.”
“So it needed to happen on its own,” I say.
“Exactly. Interestingly, I wasn’t exactly attracted to you until somewhat recently.”
“When I stopped being an asshole?”
“No. It didn’t coincide with that.” Voss laughs. “I’m not sure it coincides with anything other than when I came back from New York, I was a little startled by how much I missed you specifically.”
“Absence did it.”
He shrugs. “So I’m kind of the opposite of the lame bi-awakening freak out. I’m fucking ecstatic.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Wow.”
“Right?”
“Loren didn’t freak out,” I note. “Did he?”
“Loren doesn’t have a freak-out mode,” Voss answers. “I actually have another hypothesis. I think this bi freak out is straight people imagined because they can’t fathom anyone justacceptingtheir sexuality being anything other than hetero.”
“You think so?”
“I’m probably not quite accurate in that. Maybe it’s my own negativity toward hetero-normative indoctrination. But in my experience, I haven’t seen a freak out.”
“How many bi-awakenings have you witnessed?”
“Closely? Loren. Briar. Myself. You.”
“Me.”
