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But in any case, she wasn’t talking about a relationship. She’d been interested in sex, and nothing else. That was the most she could offer me, and I wasn’t interested.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’m not the type to hook up, and I’m not willing to be someone’s experiment.”
The other three stared at me through the screen, their expressions baffled.
“I’ve told you guys this before,” I sighed. “Just because I flirt doesn’t mean that I’m easy. Sex means something to me. That’s why I’ve never had it.” I wasn’t ashamed of saying that, at least not with my close friends.
“Sex doesn’t have to mean anything,” Kyle said. “It could just be for fun.”
“Sure, but people seem to catch feelings pretty regularly,” I said. “Why would I put myself in that position? Fooling around with a straight girl sounds like a great way to get my heart broken.”
Kyle shrugged. “Fair enough.”
The next few times I had to see Chelsea were awkward, to put it mildly. I kept my distance from her and didn’t make any small talk. I didn’t want to be misinterpreted in any way. In fact, this experience was making me question my whole attitude toward other people.
Part of me thought Trevor had been right all along. On the other hand, this was the first time anything like this had ever happened. The problem was Chelsea, not me. She saw propositions that weren’t actually there.
I snorted to myself as I imagined her going to the grocery store. When the clerk asked for her phone number for their records, she’d probably take it as a come-on. If a Starbucks barista asked for her name, she’d see it as a marriage proposal!
“What’s so funny?” she asked, standing straight and wiping sweat from her forehead.
“Nothing, nothing.”
A customer came through the door, saving me from any further interaction.
But I had to keep seeing Chelsea three times a week, and after a while, the awkwardness started getting to me. When I told her seeing her was the best part of my day, I wasn’t just being a flirt. I enjoyed chatting with her and seeing the light-hearted way she approached the world. She was completely different from me, but her attitude lightened mine.
The one time we’d hung out had probably been the most pleasant afternoon I’d spent since moving here. The more I looked back on it, the more I appreciated how nice it had been to make conversation with her. There was no darkness in her soul, like there was in mine. She was just sweet and fun and pure, and it felt so easy to be around her.
It really was a shame she’d tried to kiss me. If not for that, we could’ve been friends. I could’ve even talked her through exploring her sexuality, maybe helped her get set up on a dating app. I’d be curious to see how she fared. The world of online dating was so foreign to me. Or maybe we could’ve gone out to a gay bar and wing-womaned each other. Heck, it could’ve been here. The wine bar side of V&V got pretty crazy at night.
“Hey,” I would say to Chelsea when I got the door for her.
“Hey.” She’d avoid my eyes when she said it back to me.
On a good day, we’d exchange a “how’s it going.”
Anything more than that simply wasn’t meant to be.
10
Chelsea
I banged the door of Vino and Veritas behind me as I left for the day. My next stop was the Gin Mill, which was always fine and pleasant—but that didn’t matter anymore. No matter what happened, after seeing Tara, I’d be in a foul mood for hours.
Things were so weird with her now, and I had no one to blame but myself. I’d misinterpreted things so spectacularly. I still couldn’t get over it. And I still couldn’t understandhowit had happened.
As I got behind the wheel of the truck, I pulled out my phone. My friends had been gentle on me since our tough conversation, and I’d been trying to be less self-centered. Still, I needed them right now. They’d have to deal with one more discussion about my situation.
How can I be this hung up on one girl?I wrote.
It had been over a week, and I still thought about her all the time—not to mention the way I froze up when I was around her. The worst part was, despite me saying I’d go back to being straight, I was more intrigued by her than ever. My fantasies had gone from blurry and unfocused to clear and detailed. Extremely detailed. I knew exactly what I wanted her to do to me, from the time she pushed me down into the bed to when I grinded to an orgasm on the tip of her little pink tongue.
The problem was that she wouldn’t be doing any of that. She wasn’t interested in me—she’d told me as much. But after the way she’d acted, how could that be? None of it made sense.
Ivy was the first to reply to my text.
Give yourself a break. I’m sure everything would be confusing if you’re just figuring out you’re bisexual.
