“Make out? What kind of trollop do you take me for?” they said indignantly.
“Okay, don’t make out with him then. Just, like”—she audibly shuddered in disgust—“hug him or whatever.”
“But he is human, and he is leaving in October,” they said, which really was a valid argument in their mind.
“But that’s months away,” she said slowly, like she was explaining a difficult subject to a child. “A lot can change in that time, and he’s here now, right?”
“Yes,” Zef answered.
“And you like that he’s here?”
“Yes,” they repeated.
“Okay, then maybe—and I know this is hard for you—try and go with the flow on this one? You can always go tell him what you just told me. That he makes you happy, but you’re still figuring out what that means, and see what happens.”
Was it really that simple? To be fully honest and hope Bryce would accept them anyway. It was scary, because there was the chance that he would not accept it, that maybe he would leave, that maybe he would not like Zef anymore.
Their gut twisted painfully, and they nearly gasped from the force of it. Oh, that was bad. That was a bad feeling. And they could tell it was a bad feeling, which was wonderful.
“I think I like that he likes me,” Zef said before they could overthink it. “Because when I think of him not liking me, it feels bad.”
“Well, there you go. Tell him that.”
“Okay,” they sat up straighter. “Okay, I will. Thank you, Tadora, you have been a great help.”
“Of course I have. That’s why you called me.”
“Good luck with your… situation,” they said, and she blew a raspberry.
“Don’t need luck. He’s gonna break in, like, five minutes. I know the type. It will hardly be any fun,” she grumbled. “Good luck with Bryce. Let me know if you ever see his dick. I have a wager going.”
“With whom?” Zef demanded.
“With Bob, of course,” Tad said simply.
The strange bug-like creature that lived in Quin’s office and ate the food scraps from the kitchen?
Before they could ask for more explanation, Tad said, “Let me know if I gotta come over and kick Bryce’s ass, okay?”
“Violence will not be necessary,” Zef said, even as they smiled. “But thank you for the offer.”
“Anytime.”
She hung up without a goodbye, and Zef set their phone on their side table and inhaled deeply though their nostrils slits, exhaling slowly through their mouth. Since they were anything but impulsive, they did not immediately go to Bryce. Instead, they sat, and they thought. And thought. And thought.
When they finished thinking, they had come to several conclusions.
Conclusion number one: Bryce liked them romantic-styles, and there was nothing they could do to change or alter that. The only road to be taken there was acceptance.
Conclusion number two: They did not dislike the feeling of Bryce liking them. In fact, the idea of Brycenotliking them made them feel worse than the wariness his admiration caused. Him liking them felt warm and soft andgood, and that, they reasoned, had to count for something.
Conclusion number three: They did not know if they returned his affections to the extent he felt them, but they wanted to figure it out. They did like him; they just did not know the exact nature or depth of it just yet, and they hoped he would understand.
And with those three conclusions came clarity on their next course of action. So they stopped thinking, stood from their bed, and strode purposefully out their room and down the hall to Bryce’s bedroom. The house was dark and quiet, and since their night vision was not all that strong, they turned on the hallway light to guide their way.
Then they were standing in front of the human’s bedroom door and lifting their right top hand. They hesitated only a moment. They may have been slow to process things and accept change, but they were not a coward. Yes, Bryce and his many feelings scared them, but they would face that fear as they faced all things in life. With poise and grace.
They knocked. It was met with silence. They knocked again, louder and in rapid succession. A bed spring squeaked, and nerves fluttered up their throat and swarmed there.
