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I nearly spit my drink everywhere.
“I don’t know whether to be offended that you’re stereotyping me as a jock or relieved you’re not stereotyping me as a vodka-drinking Russian.”
He laughs, brushing a strand of hair from his eye. “I guess life isn’t a cheesy comedy movie where college students are all stereotypes played by actors in their thirties.”
Fuck, he’s so smart, and funny, and talented, and beautiful, fucking hell he’s beautiful.
I lean closer, close enough to smell his aftershave and the vodka on his breath. I can see by the confusion on his face that he’s not expecting me to kiss him. I don’t even know what I’m gonna do, not fully, not until my lips touch his.
I can’t even remember the last time I kissed someone. It will have been a girl, and it will have probably been over a year ago. And it will have meant nothing. But this…
His lips are as soft as they look and I can taste the vodka on his tongue when I coax his mouth open with mine. He’s kissing me back. He’s actually…
“Fuck.” I wipe my mouth as I snap back to my spot on the couch. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I…”
I stand up, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.
“Alexei, it’s okay.”
“I don’t know what happened, I’m just tired, and I had some vodka.”
He looks down at the glass. The couple of sips I took like two minutes ago. He looks shook and confused and I fucking hate myself.
“Can we just… can we forget about this? Please?”
He nods, slowly. “Of course. If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.”
I run off to my room, slamming the door behind myself.
Shit fuck shit.I squeeze my eyes together, trying to push out the way Stef’s lips felt on mine. It gets harder every day to pretend. To deny myself the things other people just get to have. Since I met him, it’s impossible. But I can’t let myself to do this. I’m so close. I can’t fuck it all up now.
15
STEFANOS
Alexei’s already left the apartment by the time I get up the next morning. The glasses of vodka removed from the table, and all traces of last night erased.
It was hard to sleep, listening to him tossing and turning in the next room. The memory of his kiss still tingling on my lips. Of course I wanted him to kiss me. But I never expected him to. Not in a million years. And I accepted that. The way you accept that eighty percent - or something like that – of the population is straight. I was fine with Alexei just being another hot straight guy I admired from afar. Until he kissed me.
Why did he kiss me?
Is he gay? Or bi or… just not straight after all?
I think about how weird he was with me when I moved in and told him I was gay. And I think about how he was raised. In the church like me, but unlike me, without an older sister or a mom to offer him that knowledge that even if the men in his family had a hard time accepting his sexuality, then at least one person would be there to look out for him.
Alice asksme what’s wrong the minute she sees me at rehearsals, and I consider telling her about what happened. But then I change my mind. This is Alexei’s business to tell. And even though Alice is my best friend and I’d trust her with my life, I don’t know if I should tell her about this.
“Nothing, I’m just tired. I played at the restaurant last night and then I drank vodka with Alexei.” I feel my face flushing, but I ignore it.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, so? How’s Mischa?”
That takes her mind off me. I listen to her dissect every phone conversation she and Mischa have had since their second date, and I’m as envious as I am happy for her.