Not straight. I couldn’t be straight, not after getting hard reading a sex scene between two men, not after jerking off to thoughts of my male best friend.
But not gay either. Because Amelie had been genuine.
I pressed my palms against the sink and stared at my reflection in the foggy mirror.
What was I, then? Horny? Ithadbeen a while. Confused? Going through some kind of crisis? Experimenting?
No. This felt too real to be experimentation. Too intense to be temporary confusion.
A memory surfaced—something I hadn’t thought about in years.
Amelie’s friend, Sophia. She’d come out as bisexual while Amelie and I were dating. I remembered Amelie talking about it, trying to explain it to me because I’d asked questions. Not judgmental ones—I’d genuinely wanted to understand.
“She’s not gay,” Amelie had said. “She’s bisexual. She dated guys before, she’s with a woman now, but that doesn’t make her suddenly gay. She just… likes both. She’s attracted to both men and women.”
I’d nodded, filed it away. It had seemed straightforward enough. Sophie liked both. Simple.
Except I hadn’t really understood it then. Hadn’t connected it with my own experiences. Not really. It had been abstract, academic. Someone else’s identity that didn’t affect me.
But now…
Now it wasn’t abstract.
I’d been attracted to Amelie. I was attracted to Marco.
Both. Not one or the other. Both.
The word settled into my chest, clicking into place.
Bisexual.
That was me.
The realization didn’t bring relief. It brought a fresh wave of panic.
My father…merde.My father would react exactly the same way whether I said “gay” or “bisexual.” It wouldn’t matter that I’d dated Amelie, that I’d been attracted to women. All he’d hear was that I liked men, and that would be enough.
Disgusting. Unnatural. Not in my house.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the voice in my head.
This was who I was. It wasn’t wrong or broken or disgusting, no matter what my father thought.
But knowing that didn’t make it easier. Didn’t make the fear go away.
Because even though I could accept this about myself, I still couldn’t tell Marco.
Marco had his own secrets. The book, the dildo, whatever he was hiding about his sexuality. And I had mine now too.
Because I had too much to lose—our friendship, our partnership as teammates, his trust—and the truth could destroy all of it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Étienne
It had been two days since I’d figured out I was bisexual and accepted I was attracted to Marco. Two days of trying to act normal while my entire understanding of myself had been rewritten.
And I hadn’t slept more than a few hours total.
