Qiang snorts. “Of course I have.”
“But according to Qi, the hook-up life has been your thing for years, so how long has it been since you kissed someone?” I ask, a bit curious now because I don’t think I could live without the kissing. I like that bit more than the sex bit, really.
“Over four years.” Qiang shrugs nonchalantly, but it doesn’t fully hide the slight stiffening in their shoulders.
That reminds me of the conversation I had with Qi when we first moved in about Qiang’s ex leaving them with a fuckton of trauma.
“Ah, so that was the jock ex-boyfriend, right?” I probe because I don’t actually know that for sure, but based on the context clues I’ve picked up from Tristan and Qi, it feels pretty obvious.
Qiang’s eyes widen at that, then narrow with suspicion. “How do you know about that?”
I shrug a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “I don’t really. Just bits and pieces. Mostly stuff I’ve put together. You have issues with jocks, and your last relationship was an asshole. Didn’t take much to put together that your ex was part of the ‘jocks are assholes’ conclusion.”
Qiang nods and lets out a sigh. “I trusted the wrong person and got publicly outed in a mortifyingly embarrassing way.”
I sit back and wait for them to elaborate. After a couple of moments of silence, Qiang huffs out a frustrated breath.
“He aired a tape of me giving him head in front of my high school. I didn’t end up expelled, but I spent the rest of the year finishing my classes from home.”
“And the guy’s punishment?” I ask because I have a feeling he didn’t get much of a punishment beyond Qi kicking the guy’s ass.
Qiang shakes their head. “They conveniently shot the video so their face wasn’t in it. I had enough proof to out them in retaliation, but I couldn’t see the point. With his family’s reputation, they would have found a way to sweep it under the rug, regardless.
“The thing is, I knew better. But I was a stupid teenager, hopped up on teen movies that made the whole jock-nerd trope seem like more of a reality. Not that I was ever what someone would call a nerd, but I was also never anywhere near a jock, either.”
I knew what happened must have been traumatic, but I can’t even imagine what being outed like that would be like. Even if they weren’t outed, just the mortification of having a sex tape of yourself publicly aired like that would be traumatic on its own.
I can tell just from the delivery that they’ve given me the barest of cliffnotes on what happened, but the cliffnotes are enough tounderstand their hesitation and distrust, along with where they’ve taken chunks of the blame and undeservedly placed it on themself.
“I’m sorry you went through something like that. Feels like you’re blaming yourself for it though, when it’s not your fault. It doesn’t make you stupid to believe in happy endings. The most popular tropes are the ones that go against the grain. They represent the part of reality that’s rare and makes it believable. That’s the point of it. But I don’t think it’s impossible for those tropes to come true in real life; it’s just rare. That’s why it’s a trope,” I point out.
“Slice of life is a trope, too,” they most unhelpfully throw back in my face.
“Slice of life is a trope because it’s rare in fiction, not because it’s rare in reality. And it’s rude to uno reverse card people when you know the point they are trying to make,” I huff out with an eye-roll.
Qiang just laughs. “Fair enough. And I will say that over the past few months, getting to know Tristan, then you, and even Gio, have helped me realize how extremely biased I’ve been. Still not in a place where I want to get chummy enough with jocks to hook up with them or anything, but maybe trying to let go enough to be friends with one or two isn’t such a terrible thing.”
“Stop. You’re making me blush,” I tease to lighten the mood.
I have a feeling that they’ve cracked themself open and shown me as much as they are going to tonight, so I don’t want to dwell on the bad vibe when tonight has been mostly pleasant. And obviously, there’s a ‘still nowhere near dating me’ clause in their statement, but there’s also significant growth in my favor, regardless.
“Who said it was you?” Qiang immediately fires back while trying to hold back a smile.
“Your pretty eyes,” I smile back at them, flashing my pearly whites.
“Can I buy that word off of you?” they ask with an arched brow.
“Sure, a million adjectives are hanging out on the tip of my tongue waiting to take their place,” I tease back, getting into the flirt even though I know it’s not going to go anywhere, but loving how easy it is to tease like this and have them respond playfully instead of tense like it’s been before.
Qiang laughs and rolls their eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“The problem you have with that, Qiang—well, problem for you, point of favor for me—is that the reason my ridiculousness bothers you is that you like it so much.”
Qiang shakes their head with amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“I don’t have to. Your eyes tell me everything I need to know,” I practically purr, no longer caring how sickeningly flirty it sounds, since that’s part of the game.
“And on that note, I’m heading to bed before you make me gag with your sickly sweetness,” they say with a toss of their hair and pulling their feet off the stool in front of them.
