Am I doing this right?
Do I look excited enough?
I wish I was the sort of person who could be present in alife-changing moment without worrying if I’m experiencing it correctly.
I know I like him. That’s not in doubt.
I wish I wasn’t so worked up, so unsettled. I adjust how I stand but that doesn’t seem to fix how I’m feeling either, and I laugh at what seems like the right time in the middle of his story about being trapped on a farm by an errant border collie who kept herding him into a corner – but did I? Did I miss the moment?
I’m missingthiswhole moment by living so inside my own head.
I know that my sisters Ang and Del would tell me to go easy on myself, but they don’t have to live in a brain like mine. They don’t have to monitor themselves.
It’s just weird that there’s one person I haven’t felt like this around, or at least, not to this extent. When we talk in our bedroom, I wear the mask lighter. The script quietens enough for me to hear her.
Is that why Dolly appears in my mind, even when I’m looking right at the man I’m dating? Or why what I feel when I’m around her feels closer to how I feel about Patrick than any of the other women?
I’m not sure I can ignore all the mounting evidence, and the things I’ve hidden for so long. Or the suspicion that I’m not so much barking up the wrong tree as ignoring half of the forest.
But just because I might like Dolly, that doesn’t mean I can’t also like Patrick, right? I am sure I like him. I am.
Does Dolly like me?
It’s a question I’ve tried really hard not to look at, to push away into the corner of my mind, because she’s myroommate.
But then, sometimes, I think she looks at me in the way I want her to look at me. That deep, soft look you give someone when you feel more for them than justI don’t mind sharing space with you. Is it wrong to hope that she does? Maybe it’s just likewhat Bridget said this morning, about how she likes the idea of being wanted. Being wanted does sound nice.
But it feels like more than that, this hoping.
God, it’s bad enough that I think about her that way, but to assume she could like me back just seems… I don’t know. As if I’m imagining she’s some kind of predator? No, actually, it’s not that bad but… oh, it’s all so tangled up and I just wish I couldknowif I was imagining all this or lying to myself.
Because it feels like lying but I can’t tell in what direction. Am I lying to her in the friendly way I act? Am I lying to myself about the ways I feel about her or Patrick?
Masking feels so much like lying sometimes; maybe I’m just manipulating everyone around me all the time into thinking I’m a nice person they might want to fall in love with.
Is this what Lina was talking about? Compulsory hetero-sexuality?
‘Would you like that, Carys?’ Patrick says, jolting me out of myself.
Fuck, I really did not hear him this time. ‘Sorry,’ I say breathlessly. ‘I um… got distracted by your eyes.’
Not entirely a lie. Eye contact is extremely distracting.
He blushes at the compliment. ‘I asked if you’d like to have another date with me?’
‘Oh!’ I cry. ‘Yes! Obviously!’
It’s only when I leave that I realise what I’ve committed to: a date where we could touch.
Am I ready for that? I could tell him I like to go slow, that I need time, but what if he reads that as lack of interest, or that I’m weird? If I want to be with Patrick, I have to give it my all. Givehimmy all (or as much as is permitted on a streaming television show).
I just wish I could stop thinking about Dolly, down the hallway, looking at Warren, wishing she was looking at me.
Chapter TwelveDolly
Look, if I wasn’t a lesbian, I would be all over Warren. He is objectively, incredibly handsome. His skin is deep, dark brown, and I’ve never seen a man so assuredly rock a goatee. And his muscles are, as one might expect, rather massive. I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting a basketball player to be so stylish. He’s dressed beautifully in a rust orange suit, with a grey turtleneck underneath.
Ialmostfeel guilty that this hunk of a basketball player is wasted on the secret lesbian. Except that he’s here for the same reason as me. Romantic love isn’t important. We’re here for a different kind of love, familial love.
