Obiora ignored the painful twist of jealousy. “And you’re interested in her romantically, yeah?”
Ejiro rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Obiora grinned. “All right. But are you attracted to her? Sexually attracted to her, I mean.”
Ejiro stared at him incredulously. When he realised Obiora was serious, he scoffed. “What? What kind of question is that?”
“I’m serious. I want you to think about it.”
“I think she’s freaking gorgeous; of course I’m attracted to her.”
“And I’m sure you think at least one of the other bachelors are freaking handsome, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re sexually attracted to them,” Obiora retorted.
“I—” For the second time that evening, Ejiro’s mouth clicked shut. His eyes were wide.
“Maybe you’re just not attracted to Sophia like that—at least, not enough to want to kiss her just yet,” Obiora finished, hoping he sounded reassuring. “Or, I don’t know, have you ever considered you might be asexual? Or at least demisexual.”
EJIRO JOLTED. ALL THOSE MONTHS he’d spent questioning his sexuality seemed to come back full force, making his breath come quick and harsh. Was he really asexual? Demisexual? He inwardly shook his head, almost in denial. He couldn’t be—because—what about—?
“I—I’ve—I mean …” He blushed furiously and lowered his voice. “I’ve had sex, and I’ve enjoyed it, and I’d very much like to have it again.” God, if his skin weren’t so beautifully dark, he’d probably be as red as a ripe tomato. “If that’s what you’re—”
Obiora laughed, but the sound was kind. “Sexual attraction and sexual desire are two completely different things.” Was Ejiro imagining it, or was Obiora’s voice growing a little deeper as he explained? “Are you going to say that every single time you might have felt desire in your life, it was solely because of someone?”
“No.” Ejiro immediately snorted.
Obiora laughed. “Exactly. Sometimes man’s just horny, am I right?”
Ejiro snorted again, though the word made him blush harder.
“And you’re right to question it; some ace-spec folks only feel sexual desire after they’ve felt sexual attraction, and they often only feel sexual attraction after an emotional bond has been formed first,” Obiora explained. “Choosing to have sex or, in your case, to kiss someone”—Ejiro’s belly swooped when Obiora’s voice lowered on those last three words—“doesn’t need to have anything to do with your attraction to said person, if that makes sense. Though, of course, most of the time, it does.”
“Right.” Ejiro already knew this. He’d spent what must’ve been months agonising over it. He’d felt sexual attraction before, he was sure. With Sam. He wouldn’t have had such an intimate relationship with her that he eventually wanted to marry her otherwise, right?
But this time, instead of immediately using that as proof to dismiss his feelings like he always did in the past—instead of shoving away the oftentimes invasive, uncomfortable questioning, he forced himself to think now. Really think.
He forced himself to examine the first time Sam had kissed him, and remembered how he’d just … let her, because … well, because he’d liked her, and she’d liked him, and he’d thought that was what he was supposed to do, even though he’d felt strangely passive about it at the time—which just about summed up the totality of their relationship. His breaths started to come fast.
But there were times when Ejiro had been the one to initiate things—
Again, Ejiro had to force himself to think—had those moments ever really been about his attraction to her? Had he ever wanted her because he specifically found her so completely irresistible—
Ejiro felt his nose wrinkling automatically because that just sounded unrealistic—come on, who wanted anyone that much, right?
Oh.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh God. Had he ever been sexually attracted to her? To anyone?
He searched frantically through his past relationships and encounters, and froze when he remembered one; the memory practically leapt out at him, like he’d been staring into a pond and a frog had suddenly burst through the water to land on his forehead.
He was seventeen. The night of his prom. He’d asked Amaka to go with him because they were friends and didn’t really want to make the night a big deal. They’d spent all night talking, gossiping and laughing, and Ejiro vividly remembered at some point wanting desperately to kiss her, and feeling panicked at the thought. Amaka was his friend, why was he feeling this way?
He’d been aware of her beauty before, but only abstractly, yet in that moment, as she’d laughed at something he’d said, he’d suddenly noticed how the lights reflected over her eyeshadow and lip gloss; his hands had begun to sweat when he’d taken notice of the curvy shape of her hips defined by her tight, short, prom dress, her thighs thick, her legs long and shapely.
Ejiro had spent the rest of the night with his heart racing and his head confused, wondering where on earth these feelings were coming from.
