“Ktytor was fucking right about you two. I cannot believe it,” Seaborn mutters, crossing his arms.
I scramble out from under Wolfe, probably bright red, hair a mess, and hard. A quick glance at Wolfe tells me he’s hard, too. “So we have news.”
“News? Is this news?”
“Sure,” Wolfe says, as awkward as I feel. “It’s news. We are dating.”
“Surprise,” I say because the whole thing feels absurd, and I’m a terrible person for not telling him what it’s turned into since he and I talked.
“How long?” he asks, the only question I don’t want to answer.
“Since the beginning of the season,” Wolfe goes with the fake answer, and I hate it.
“I thought you said he wasn’t into it?” Seaborn directs his question to me.
Wolfe glances between us.
“I talked to him the night I drove him home.” I explain to Wolfe then to Seaborn, “I thought he wasn’t and I guess he was…?” I don’t know what to say about it but we owe Seaborn more.
“I talked to you about Ktytor, and you didn’t think to tell me?” Hurt forms in the lines around his mouth.
“I got too caught up in all of it. I’m sorry. We should have told you.” I don’t know how to begin to apologize.
“So it’s real now?” Seaborn asks.
“No,” I say at the same time Wolfe says, “Yes.”
What is the real answer? I don’t have one. I still don’t know if this is real or fake. We’ve blurred the lines too much.
“We weren’t really sure what it was,” Wolfe says, and I think he’s being honest. “It’s not his fault. It started as a thing to piss his sister off, and it changed.”
“Changed?” Seaborn asks the question on the tip of my tongue. “I thought you were straight.”
“I’m bisexual.” Wolfe grins like he loves telling people.
“You can’t be saying that to actual queer people,” I say softly.
Wolfe turns to Seaborn. “You’re a fellow bisexual, so let me ask you this: if I’ve fucked a man, can I call myself a bisexual?”
Seaborn blinks, then looks between us. Finally, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Someone give me the full fucking story.”
We pretty honestly recap the events and awkwardly walk him through our situationship. We’ve been best friends for all of college. I give my parts without any feelings. I can’t even bear to say them to Wolfe, let alone Seaborn, although I know he at least suspects my crush.
“So you’re fake dating but actually fucking, and actually going on dates and shit?” Seaborn looks like his brain hurts.
Mine does too.
“Yes, you understand.” Wolfe nods.
“Why aren’t you two just actually dating?”
“Because he’s straight,” I say, exasperated. “I thought that was clear.”
“Bisexual, like I said earlier,” Wolfe corrects. “I’ve literally had sex with a man. That gets me my bisexual card. I’m sure of it.”
“Lots of straight guys fuck around with dudes to get off. Doesn’t make them gay.” I’m getting annoyed.
Both of them stare at me like I’ve said something wrong.
