“You’ve gone crazy, haven’t you? That’s the only explanation. Or maybe I’m going crazy. I don’t know what just happened. You completely shattered her confidence. I don’t think she’ll be kissing anyone for the rest of her life.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”
“Excuse me?”
He tips his chin at something over my shoulder. “I don’t think you need to worry about her confidence.”
I turn to look at what he’s talking about. Through the swaying bodies of people, I see the girl again.
And he’s right. I don’t need to worry about her confidence at all.
Because she’s kissing again.
Only…
“Is she…” I squint my eyes to make sure. “Is she kissing a girl?”
From where I am it certainly looks like it. The drunk blonde girl is kissing another blonde girl and she’s doing it in the exact same way as she was doing it to Arrow, all leaned into her body and neck tilted up.
I hear him shift behind my back. “And here I thought I was special.” Then, “Although, it makes me wonder…”
I spin on my heels to face him again. “Wonder what?”
He cocks his head to the side. “If she’s really that drunk or if I just drove her to lesbianism.”
“You can’t drive anyone to lesbianism. You can…”
“I can what?”
Bring them back.
That’s what I was going to say, that he can convert a lesbian because he’s so gorgeous in his leather jacket, his face bent down, his blue eyes shining. As if sexual orientation is a choice.
As if I’m not having a very surreal moment right now as I stare at him.
And my next words don’t help the matter. “Sexual orientation isn’t a choice. In case you didn’t know. You can’t drive people or convert them or change it on a whim. As if they don’t have enough problems to deal with and you come in with your ignorance and careless remarks and...”
I trail off because what the fuck am I doing, and I swear I see the lines around his eyes crinkle but I can’t be sure.
“Thanks for that. Very educating and enlightening,” he drawls.
I glare at him.
I can’t believe that I’m glaring at him but that’s not the point.
The point is that there are more important things at stake here. Far more important things.
Far more.
So I bring my hands down to my sides. I even take in a deep breath and try to rein in my agitation.
“Why,” I begin with what I think is a calm tone, “did I just catch you kissing a girl at a bar who’s not my sister?”
At this, his eyes go darker, even darker than before.
I think they’ve surpassed the shade of navy blue now and landed somewhere in the spectrum of black, making them look like bottomless pools.
An abyss.
