“Sorry, I just … I need some literal space between whatever—well, notwhateverwas happening in there. I’m pretty sure I know what was happening, and now I’m very grateful that one of our nosy neighbors distracted me for an extra five minutes about what exactly an art gallery museum person did so that I didn’t walk in on you two doing exactly what I know you were doing in there.” She waved her hand back down toward the hallway.
I glanced back there, too, seeing the light still on for Josh, who was still probably trying to find his shirt.
“You two were …” Gina drifted off. She didn’t want to say it, but it was clear she needed to repeat it to herself a few times before it fully sank in.
So much for Josh and I waiting to tell everyone.
To tell Gina.
I tried to figure out how to fix this, but nothing was coming to mind. There was nothing to fix, and yet the way Gina’s face was screwed up as she worked through what was going on said otherwise.
“I’m—” Where did I begin? “I’m sorry I didn’t say something before, Gina.”
“He’s my brother, Bri.”
“I know.”
I imagined my face was flushed and lips swollen. So much so that she had to shut her eyes again.
She took a deep breath.
“I’m really sorry, Gina. I know I shouldn’t have, and I should’ve said something maybe sooner, but?—”
“You really like him,” she said.
I didn’t answer, a little taken aback.
“For how long?”
“Not terribly long. Not exactly.” The words felt like an excuse, but I didn’t know how else to explain it.
She let out a slow breath, rubbing her temples like she was trying to piece it all together. “I thought I’d noticed it, back at the apartment, but I dismissed it. Thought I was just overthinking things, seeing things that weren’t there. I thought you and Josh were finally being nice to each other, you know, like friends or something—maybe because you’d felt guilty or because I’d kept pushing you two to make amends.”
I shook my head, trying to keep it together.
“It’s been going on the whole time?” she asked again, the confusion in her voice making it clear how out of place this all felt.
“Not the whole time.” I gave the simplest answer, hoping it would cut through the tension.
Her eyes flicked between me and the floor, her mind working through everything. “For how long have you been … have you been sleeping with him in the apartment?”
“No,” I said quickly, my eyes squeezing shut, as if the words themselves were too much. “No, we didn’t do anything there. Things just got complicated, and then … no. This was the first time.”
She was silent for a moment, just taking it in. Then she let out a breath, her face softening. “Really?”
I nodded, and for a second, it almost felt like I was giving her a confession. A small, quiet truth.
Her brow furrowed slightly. “But you liked him. You always have. And I could tell. When I walked in on you two the other day … your hair was …” She trailed off, her voice catching as the pieces started to fall into place.
I opened my eyes, finally looking at her. There was no way out of this anymore.
“Yes. Sort of. I mean, we were just kissing.” The last part felt awkward, like a lie, but it was the truth. Or at least, it was all I could give her right now.
But we had just kissed.
And touched.
And wanted to do a whole lot more if I was remembering my reaction correctly.
