Chloe puts her chin in her hand and stares at me. She didn’t ask any questions when I called her crying and proceeded to spill my guts about how I slept with Emily and then promptly panicked. By the time I finished telling her how much I hated myself for it, she was already in her car and making the drive from Blacksburg.
She drove through the night and got here right before sunrise. After a long hug and quick nap, the only thing she asked for in return was a ton of coffee and a stack of pancakes. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks after the server refills our mugs.
“There really isn’t much else to tell.” Except that’s a lie. There’s a lot to tell. Oceans’ worth, even. And I’m fairly certain she knows it.
“What happened in New York?”
There it is. The question I know she’s been dying to ask but hasn’tbecause she knew I needed space to figure things out. The same space I asked Alex for.
The only problem? I still don’t want to talk about it. “Nothing happened in New York.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of coffee. “Yeah, that’s why we left a day early and why you cried on the train ride home, went back to Penn a hot mess, then slept with the first girl who showed interest. Sure sounds like nothing.”
Okay, now that’s insulting. Even if itistrue. “That’s not what happened.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Chloe says. “Look, I don’t mind driving six hours to see your gorgeous face. Especially if you’re sad. But don’t lie to me about it.”
The server places a stack of pancakes and a side of bacon in front of Chloe and a bowl of fruit and some questionable-looking oatmeal in front of me.
Chloe pushes her food to the side and leans forward. “Jules. What happened in New York?”
I slowly stir my oatmeal, not at all hungry, but it gives me something to do. A momentary pause in conversation while I try to steady the nauseating feeling nestled in the pit of my stomach. “Alex and I had a fight.”
“No shit,” she says but not unkindly.
“I think I might have feelings for her.”
“Again. No shit.” Chloe pulls the pancakes closer and begins to lather them with butter and syrup. “Six hours, babe. Tell me something I don’t already know.”
I’m not sure if I find her lack of surprise unsettling or comforting. “She doesn’t have feelings for me.” The words feel tight in my throat, and it hurts to admit them out loud. Like it somehow makes it even more true.
I expect Chloe to say something witty or dismiss my worry with a sarcastic comment. Instead, “Did she tell you that?”
“No,” I admit. “Not directly but also, kind of?”
She watches me carefully. “Did you tell her howyoufelt?”
“Obviously not. She’s dating Trinity.”
“So?” she says around a mouthful of pancakes.
“So? I’m just supposed to tell her I think I have feelings for her when she’s dating someone else? That’s crappy.”
Chloe shrugs, clearly disagreeing.
I think I’ve hit my quota on doing crappy and selfish things this week. But also, what if I’m just fucking confused, and I’m blowing all of this way out of proportion? What if I tell Alex I have feelings for her, but in reality, it’s just me figuring my shit out, and I somehow managed to make a horrible situation worse because the sex was really, really good?
What if I’m bi or pan, and Alex just happened to be my maybe gay awakening, and I’m confusing safety and friendship for something else?
“Okay, but what if Idon’thave feelings for her? What if she got hot right at the same time that I’m figuring out I’m attracted to girls? What if I’m mistaking that for actual feelings? Like, the sex was good, I’m just confused, I need to move on.”
“With Emily.”
“No. Not with Emily.”
“Why? Did the sex suck?”
I sigh. This is getting exasperating. “The sex did not suck. But I don’t have the type of feelings for her that she does for me. Last night shouldn’t have happened.”
