“Do you remember when we were at field day in elementary school, and Taylor marched up to us holding Isaac’s hand, announcing they were boyfriends?”
“Yes, but the rest of my siblings are straight.” His eyes cut to the left like he’s nervous for some reason. As close as he and Taylor have been, I didn’t think talking about this would be such a big deal.
“Do you think someone can be straight and then turn gay?” I press.
“Is this about your dad?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I reply confidently. Hell, I’m allowed to tell a little white lie after all the shit that’s been kept from me. Not that two wrongs make a right, but dammit, I just want to know his thoughts.
“Well, my family and I believe sexuality is more of a spectrum. We think that if people allowed themselves to look for a partner of the same gender, they’d likely find one, and if they don’t give themselves that option, then they won’t, if that makes sense. So, a person can be anywhere on the spectrum at any given time. A relationship shouldn’t be based on gender. It should just be with someone who makes you feel safe, supports you, and encourages you. They’re there for you when the rest of the world is against you. They’re there for you when you’re at your worst and celebrate you when you’re at your best.”
“Huh, kinda sounds like you and me,” I tell him.
A heavy sadness enters Damon’s eyes, like someone turned the lights off, and he sighs.
“Yeah.”
I move to sit next to him on the couch and take advantage of the proximity to elbow him in the ribs. “Maybe we should start dating then.”
Finally, I get a laugh out of him, even if it’s strained.
“If I were gonna date a guy, I wouldn’t go after one who looked like you,” Damon teases.
I try not to let him see that his comment actually affects me, because he isn’t aware of the jumbled thoughts in my brain right now.
“Alright, so what would your type be then?” I ask, tucking my left foot into my right thigh and settling back onto the couch. The cool air in the cabin feels heavenly, floating across my bare skin, and the lights are low, thanks to the dimmer switches, creating the kind of atmosphere that could encourage someone to open up.
“My type of guy?” Damon asks. “Are we really doing this?
“Yep, enlighten me, oh wise one.”
“Hell, I don’t know, man. This is an exercise in futility; let’s just turn on another movie or something,” he says, closing his laptop and setting it on the coffee table before leaning back against the couch.
“After the last day and a half, I’m all movied out. And what does an exercise in utility mean?”
“Thank God you’re pretty,” Damon says, patting my cheek, but not answering my question. Unfortunately, I’m easily distracted, and run with the opening, deciding to lighten the mood.
“So, you do think I’m hot!”
“That’s not what I said,” he deadpans.
Pushing up from my spot next to him, I climb onto Damon’s lap and straddle him. “Tell me, then. Tell me I’m not hot.”
“Get off me, Li.” Damon pushes at my chest.
“Come on,” I tease. “You know you want me.” I begin moving my hips with the rhythm of the music he must’ve put on to facilitate his focus and concentration while he worked. It’s being piped through the house at a low volume. Now that I think about it, this whole ambiance is really a vibe.
Damon’s eyes are pinched shut, his head on the back of the couch, hands resting at his sides.
“I’m not going to stop until you tell me what’s got you so uptight on this trip, D,” I tell him, swiveling my hips again. Why I think giving my best friend a lap dance in order to get the truth from him is a good idea, I have no fucking clue. But I’m having fun, and maybe I can make him uncomfortable enough to finally spill his guts. “I thought you were moodier than usual because of coming clean about my dad, but that can’t be it because you’re still grumpy as fuck, and I already told you I forgive you.”
Upping the ante, I grab his hands and put them on my torso, really getting into the lap dance, because I’ve always believed it was better to go big than to go home.
“Liam, please stop,” he says through gritted teeth.
Of course, I don’t stop. What are best friends for if not for pushing your buttons? I grind my ass down harder, really fucking with him, until…
“I said, getoffme!” I’m not ready for it, and he shoves me so hard I fall off his lap onto the floor. He’s beside me a second later. “Oh, fuck. Are you okay? I’m so fucking sorry, Li. Are you hurt?” He’s raking his gaze over my skin like he’s searching for blood.
