Page 21 of Burden of Proof

I turned off the water and shoved the curtain all the way open. Ethan stood up from the toilet and faced me, catching my stare and holding it. He didn’t look away when he reached toward the wall and pulled a towel off the bar, and he didn’t look away when he held it between us. He looked at me like he saw me, like he had something else he wanted to say, but he knew I wouldn’t want to hear it.

I snatched the towel out of his hand and made quick work of drying off before shoving it back into his hands.

“I should go,” I said, stepping out of the tub and brushing past him. I needed to get back to the bedroom to find my clothes, needed to get dressed, needed to get the hell out of there.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said from the bedroom doorway, towel still in hand.

“I’ve overstayed. I’m sure of it.”

Ethan didn’t say anything to that.

My clothes were scattered near the foot of the bed, and I dressed as quickly as my shaking hands would allow. The jeans rubbed against my legs like sandpaper, the shirt stuck to my still damp skin like glue. I fought my way into my socks and shoes, then checked my pockets for my wallet, phone, and keys.

“Are you good to drive, Jay?” he asked, and I almost didn’t understand who he was talking to until I remembered we were both lying to each other about our names.

“I’m fine. Thank you for the night. For your services. Whatever.”

He chuckled under his breath and tucked the towel under his arm. He was still fucking naked, and he was so fucking comfortable about it, following me around his house with his limp cock hanging out. In the living room, I grabbed whatever extra cash I had in my wallet. It couldn’t have been more than fifty dollars, but I tossed it down onto his coffee table just the same.

“You paid me already,” he said.

“A tip.”

“Don’t need one.”

“Well, I’m not taking it back. Donate it to a fish sanctuary or something.”

Ethan snorted, and I turned in time to see him roll his eyes at me. “Is there such a thing?”

“They have sanctuaries for every other kind of animal. I don’t know why they wouldn’t.”

“I’ll be sure to find out and donate accordingly,” he said.

I scrunched my nose, wanting to fall down onto my knees in front of him and kiss his feet. Ethan hadn’t given me a single answer, just a dozen more questions I definitely didn’t have the answers to. It was worse than before I’d arrived, and I’d have to go home and be alone with it.

“I think I hate the way you make me feel.”

He studied me carefully, biting his tongue between the tip of his teeth. “I don’t think you hate it all. That’s the problem.”

“Well.” I clapped my hands together in front of me, the tears I’d expected in the shower finally threatening to spill. “Thanks for that.”

Without another word and only a hundred other thoughts, I spun on my heel and let myself out of Ethan’s apartment. I slammed the door closed behind me which I knew wasn’t entirely necessary but made me feel better anyway, and I all but ran to the elevator. It took forever to arrive, and I knew Ethanwouldn’t come after me, but whatever part of my body didn’t know that wouldn’t quiet down.

I sniffled, swiping the back of my hand under my nose, and the elevator finally arrived. I rode it downstairs, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes while I did everything I could to ignore the sight of myself in the mirrored doors. After they slid open and let me out, I ran to my car and collapsed into the driver’s seat. The doors were closed, and it was late. I grabbed the steering wheel and screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed until it hurt to scream, and then I took a deep breath and another and another.

The clock on my dash ticked over to the top of the hour, and I grabbed my phone before I forgot to delete the message I’d scheduled to send to Silas in the event of an untimely demise. Ethan had killed me, just not physically. It was the awareness of this new side of me that hurt more than any rugburn on my knees or any ache in my balls.

Had I always known that I wanted both?

Was it greedy of me to want both?

I’d grown up seeing bisexuals scorned for being indecisive, for not wanting to pick a side. Would people view me the same way for being versandwanting to switch?

“Fucking fuckballs,” I said to no one in particular.

It was so late it was early, but there was no way in hell I could go home to my empty apartment and my drained fishbowl, so I did the only thing I knew to do.

I called my best friend.