“Let’s not do it now. It’s not something I can decide on my own. Kai’s part of this, too.” I shift in my seat. “I just don’t want to talk about this—”
“I knew it!” Marissa slaps the steering wheel with enoughforce to make the car swerve slightly. “You guys had sex, didn’t you?”
“Huh?”
“It’s okay if you did!” she says. “Why else would you hesitate?”
“But we didn’t.” My heart jumps. Where’s she getting this from? “We’re best friends.”
“Best friends orbest friends?” She makes quotation marks with her fingers. I grimace, irritation flowing through me.
“Here’s what I don’t get: Why do you straight people call actual queer people best friends, even when they’re clearly a couple, but when a guy and a girl tell you they’re actually just best friends, you assume they’re into each other?” My cheeks flush with anger. “This conversation is super awkward. I don’t see how my sex life is relevant.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad. It’s just how I talk to the girls, you know? It’s boy stuff. It’s fun.” Marissa chews on her lip, then the car descends into silence.
The thing is, I get it. Talking about relationships helps people bond. I like talking about this stuff with people I’m close to, like Mia, just not when it’s intrusive or ignoring the fact that I’m not straight, like Marissa is doing right now.
“I read online that some aroace people later discover they’re demiromantic or demisexual once they meet therightperson.” The way she emphasizes the wordrightmakes my skin crawl, like being in love is the only way for life to beright.
“I’m not demiromantic or demisexual,” I say, exasperated. I rub my temples. There are aro and ace people whose labelschange over time, and that’s okay. I just feel like she’s forcing me out of my label, the one I feel most comfortable with.
Marissa pouts. “I guess I just noticed that you guys seem super close these days. Every time we talk on the phone it’s Kai this, Kai that.”
“Yeah, one, because we’re in a PR contract, and two, he’s my best friend.”
I don’t know how else to define it, other than Kai and I have a deep connection, and it’s not romantic.
“I’m only trying to protect you.”
“We’re not into each other, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No. What I’m saying is that you might not feel attraction for anyone, but I’m sure he does. If he gets with someone, we need to know.” She clucks her tongue. “He can’t be fucking somebody else while in a contract with you. If it gets out, it’d be disastrous for both of you.”
“He’s not seeing anyone. Don’t worry. I’d know if he was.”
My heart drops a little as I let out the words, but I chalk it up to the speed bumps on the road.
I will myself to forget about the conversation with Marissa and enjoy my time with Mia. I’ve been to New York a few times, but the city never ceases to amaze me, and I’m excited to explore it with her.
Her roommate is out of town for the weekend, so I get to crash in her apartment. Her room is like a slice of home. Her wall is a gallery of memories, decorated with pictures ofus and her family in the shape of a heart. Her bed is perched on stilts like a throne, arranged with blankets and a bunch of pillows. Her favorite plushie, an octopus I won for her at a claw machine, lords over the shelf, overlooking the handful of succulents and other plants that frame her desk.
The only thing that looks out of place is a book about the stock market that rests on her bedside table. Mia’s never shown much interest in finance, but when I ask her about it, she just shrugs and tells me she’s thinking of taking an intro to investing class.
It’s already late by the time I get there, and Mia’s tired from studying, so we pull out some air-dry clay and spend the evening molding them into cute shapes.
“Okay, my duck is done.” Mia squints at the lump of clay in her hand.
“That’s a duck?! I thought it was a potato with wings.” I blink, staring at it. “What happened to the face?”
“He’s seen some things,” Mia says, then points at my end of the table. “You’re one to talk! What’s that?”
“A giraffe?” I hold out my palm and show her my piece of yellow clay.
She suppresses a puff of laughter. “What happened to its neck?”
“It kept falling off, so I had to give up on it.”
We burst out laughing, almost knocking over our mugs as we collapse into giggles. We leave our animals out to dry on her windowsill, and despite our failed creations, some turn out okay, especially after we started working together. I smile at the pair of axolotls holding hands we made. They’renot perfect, and they look like they’re rolling their eyes at us, but they’re my favorite.
