“I’m sorry, I realized that wasn’t the right way to phrase that,” Jude says, avoiding eye contact again.
I remember what Max said last week when Jude and I first started talking.“Jude doesn’t warm up to people very quickly—especially when it comes to men.”
“The CIS men in Jude’s life have been awful.”
How can I convince them that I’m nothing like those horrible men they’ve dealt with in the past? That they don’t have to walk on eggshells around me or live in fear that I might interpret our friendship as a means to a sexual end? I don’t want that. I can’t imagine ever wanting that, because I’ve never wanted it from anyone.
Oh. Well, I guess the truth couldn’t hurt.
With a sigh, I close my laptop and slide it to the end of the table so that I can lean in closer. “Look, Jude. I’m…I think I might be discovering some things about myself that might make you feel better.”
Jude’s brows tightly furrow as they watch me, waiting for me to continue.
Almost immediately, hesitation takes hold. Am I sure about this? Am I really ready to claim this identity out loud? I literally learned the word “asexual” five days ago. What if I’m actually one of those other sexualities I haven’t even learned about yet?Or maybe I’m not queer at all and I’m merely a straight guy who hasn’t met the right girl yet. Maybe I’m that other thing—demisexual? But isn’t that also on the ace spectrum?
“Oliver?”
“I barely know her,” I mutter, completely instinctively, and then wince. “Sorry, it slipped out.” I wince again. “That’s what she said.”
Jude’s expression shifts to annoyance. “Are you done?”
“Title of your sex tape?”
“I’m leaving.”
“No, wait,” I plead. “I’m sorry. This is just really weird for me.”
Jude leans in again and waits.
Fuck it.
I inhale, hold my breath, and exhale: “I think I might be asexual.”
Jude blinks a few times until their expression softens into understanding, or at least something like it.
As they process this information in silence, I squirm in my chair. Every cell of my being aches to make another dumb joke, so perhaps more explanation will suffice.
“I don’t know, though. I only learned about it at the EQA meet on Thursday, and while I’ve been doing a little research, I’m still not sure that’s a completely accurate description of…me. My identity. My…preferences? I don’t know. But I thought maybe if I told you that, you’d maybe be less worried about me trying to make some move on you. Although, to be honest, it hurts my feelings a little bit that you can’t trust that I respect you enough not to?—”
“Oliver.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I hold my hands up. “I don’t like having serious conversations; they make me nervous. And when I’m nervous, I turn into a rambler.”
“A rambler?” Jude asks.
I stare at them blankly. “Yeah?”
“Rambler?” Jude echoes, then grins. “I hardly know her.”
My jaw hangs open for a moment, and then I erupt into giggles. Jude shushes me, but can barely hold their own laughter, which makes me laugh even harder. We continue this vicious cycle until we’re eventually shushed by some irritated students a few tables away.
Once we’ve finally regained our composure, Jude reaches across the table and takes my hand. “So. Ace, huh?”
“I think so. I’ve been talking to this other girl I met at EQA, and when she described her experience… It was freakishly similar to mine.” I peer around the library and shake my head. “If it’s okay with you, though, I’d rather talk about something else for a while. All this emotional talk has me wanting to peel my skin off.”
Jude chuckles. “That’s fair.” They squeeze my hand. “Last thing I’ll say is that I appreciate you telling me. It means a lot that you consider me someone you can trust.”
“Oh, for sure,” I say. “I don’t want to sound creepy, but the way we’ve bonded over the past week, I feel close to you. Like I already knew you, somehow, or like we were always supposed to meet and become friends. I don’t know. That sounds almost romantic, but it’s purely platonic, I promise.”
