“It doesn’t suck monkey balls?”
They sit up and shake their head. “It doesn’t suck any kind of balls. It’s good, really good.”
“Why do I hear abut?”I sit on my bed opposite them.
“I do feel like it’s missing something. Something personal.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno, just something a bit more aboutyou, rather than these very academic, albeit accurate and important takes. I just find myself wanting to know more about what life is like for you, on your personal journey as an asexual.”
I toss my phone to the side. “But you told me not to tell my whole queer awakening, coming out story.”
They nod and lick their lips. “I did, you’re right, and that’s not what’s missing. Maybe it’s more of looking to the future and what sort of ideal life you imagine for yourself as an asexual. Maybe that would be good to know.”
I bring my fingers to my temples and start to massage. “I can’t fecking do anymore. I’m exhausted. We’ve been at this for what, over four hours? Enough already. Do you think it’s good enough as it is?”
“It’s definitely good enough as it is,” they say.
“Then that’s how it will stay.” I slap my hands on my thighs to settle this matter. “Now, food.”
“Really? After that mountain of meat you put away?”
“That was like half a day ago,” I say and get off the bed, heading for the room service menu on the desk. I’m busy studying all the available options when I hear Loncey get off the bed and feel them get closer as they grab their bag and boots. I turn to them.
“Where are you going?”
“Well, we’re finished with your speech. It’s getting late and I just got a message from my friends that they still need some privacy so I guess I’ll be going home for the night to get a proper night’s sleep. Oh, and oil my locs because that’s overdue.”
“Really? They still need to be alone?” I feel my top lip curl. I’ve read about the characters in romance novels having sex for days on end but I didn’t really think it was humanly possible. Surely nobody is that resistant to a UTI?
“Yeah.” Loncey sighs. “Ah, well. At least this way maybe my mom or my sister can help me with my hair. Get it done quicker.”
I lower the menu. “I can help you,” I say, and the words feel like a runaway train, unstoppable and very, very inconvenient.
“You?”
I shrug. “I mean, you just need to oil them, right?”
“Yeah, but they’re… locs. It’s not ‘normal’ hair.” Their air quotes come with an eye-roll.
“Do you mean white hair?”
“Well, yeah.”
“So you think I’m visually challenged as well as an airhead blonde. Charming.”
Loncey huffs out a laugh that’s more of a sigh. “No, I didn’t say that, I just don’t know if you know what it’s like to—”
I step closer with my arms folded. “You’ve seen a photo of my best friend, right? My best friend who is Black? 4C kind of Black. I’d be a bit of a shit best friend if I didn’t know how to help herlook after her hair. So yeah, this isn’t my first rodeo.” I reach over and push the side of their arm because… actually I have no idea why I just did that.
“But don’t you want to… I don’t know, be on your own? Rest up before your keynote tomorrow?”
They’re right. That is what I should want. But I don’t. I really don’t. Maybe it’s because of how much they’ve helped me put together my speech. Maybe it’s because of what happened at the photoshoot this morning. Maybe it’s because I feel something with them that I don’t feel with many people: safe. I feel safe with Loncey and I like feeling safe. And I don’t know why, but I don’t want it to end.
“Jesus, just stay here tonight.” I throw my hands up in surrender. “We’ll get food. We’ll oil your hair and you can continue that good sleep you had earlier.”
Loncey’s laughter is now much louder.
