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I can’t remember if I ever said anything to Bailey about dating guys back when we were in college. I might have. College was a lot easier, in a way; you could explain any damn thing away as a phase. Not so much anymore, and turned out it wasn’t “just a phase” for me anyway. It might repulse her; it wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten that response from a woman I came out to. Better to find out now.
Just the thought of Bailey rejecting me has my gut churning, but it’s better to know up front. So I tell her the truth.
“The guy the bar was hitting on me,” I tell her, setting the drinks down and keeping my voice low. I slide into the booth to sit next to Bailey, letting the words hang in the air, waiting for her reaction. Bailey keeps glancing back and forth between the table and my face, like she can’t decide if she should ask the obvious question.
“Ask me.”
She opens her mouth once, closes it. Then shakes her head. “It’s none of my business,” she says. I give her a break, if only to get this part over with.
“He wouldn’t be the first guy I’ve taken home from a bar,” I say quietly. “But hooking up when I’m out with an old friend seems pretty tasteless, even for me.”
Bailey’s eyes go a little unfocused. She won’t look at me. What does that mean?
“Are you gay?” she asks, matching my tone.
“Bi,” I say. “Or pan, or something like that. I mostly think of it as open-minded.” I nudge Bailey with my elbow, trying for a grin. She’s still not looking at me, though. The churning in my gut gets exponentially worse.
After a long pause, I can’t wait anymore. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything—”
Bailey lays a hand on my arm and finally turns to look at me.
“No,” she says. “No. It’s not that at all. You just surprised me.” The churning begins to recede enough that I’m distracted by Bailey biting her lip. After a moment she meets my gaze again. “In the spirit of sharing, I have a confession to make, too.”
This should be good.
“Do tell,” I say, my eyebrows raised, not totally appeased by her answer but willing to play along. “I’m an excellent secret-keeper.”
I’m still trying to get a smile out of her, but she nods soberly and actually checks over her shoulder as though someone might be hiding behind the booth listening to us. Not likely, considering we’re at the back corner of a nearly empty bar on a chilly Thursday afternoon.
“The other night, at the gala,” she says slowly. “The thing is, I was there with Drew, but we’re not actually together.”
Huh.
“Not together,” I say. “Meaning…”
“Meaning, he asked me to pose as his girlfriend, so I did.”
“Why a girlfriend?” I ask. “Why not just go as his date? I assume there’s a reason.”
“You remember Mila,” says Bailey. I nod; it would be a while before I forgot those nails. The scabs were still healing. “She’s been giving Drew a hard time at work, asking him out and not taking no for an answer. He asked me to pose as his girlfriend to head her off.”
“Isn’t that sexual harassment?”
“That’s what I said!” She shakes her head again. “Drew swears it’s not a big deal, but asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend just to help the night go a little more smoothly.”
I snort. “How’d that work out for him?”
Bailey laughs weakly.
“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” I say speculatively. “Why didn’t Drew just bring an actual date? Aside from the obvious fact that you’re the most beautiful woman in the city.”
Bailey rolls her eyes and smacks my arm playfully.
“I asked him that too,” she says, shrugging. “Drew’s never had a problem getting a date, male or female.” Before the last word is out of her mouth, Bailey slaps a hand over her lips.
“Male or female,” I say slowly.
Oh.
