Page 69 of The Lovers

Kit

It took me a solid hour to recover from making out with the wedding planner.

The playfulness and ease were almost as incredible as all the other sensations: the heat of arousal radiating through my abdomen, thawing out forgotten and ignored parts of my soul, reminding me how easy it is for my body to respond to attraction when I’m not trying to tamp down the reaction.

I thought about digging in the Sexy Times bag and utilizing that oh-so-portable, perfectly pocket-sized gadget, but as much as I love—and advocate for—self pleasure, I also know how good it will feel when I get there with Julia.

Again.

And not in the fumbling, terrified,can we really do thisway we did when we were eighteen. Not just with our hands. Not with my fear of what it meant hanging over our heads, coloring the experience with shame and confusion. I can’t change how I felt then, or what those feelings led me to do after, but I don’t have to repeat those missteps now.

I don’t have to be afraid of my queerness.

I don’t have to hide my desire for women.

I don’t have to be the mysterious manic pixie dream girl whose purpose in the story is to teach the male protagonist the meaning of life. I don’t have to fall in love with a guy and hope he’ll chase me through the airport as I board my flight home.

I don’t have to want a guy at all.

I drop down on the couch and hit the FaceTime icon under Nina’s name.

When the call connects, I see that Nina is sitting on her balcony in a swimsuit with some kind of tropical cocktail in her hand.

“Ask me what I did today,” she says, shades still up so I can’t see her eyes.

“What did you do today?” I say with a smile.

“I landed the fucking girlfriend role onCompanion Report—six episodes recurring with potential for MORE!” She squeals and I scream and she stands up to dance around the balcony. I join in, swaying on the couch and cheering until she drops back down in her chair.

“This could be it,” I say. “The moment you look back on in ten years as the one that changed it all.”

“Fuck yeah,” she cheers. “Bring on those starring roles, Universe.”

“Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Originals—” I list her favorite streamers, all of which she put on her vision board at spring equinox. “You call, she’ll answer.”

She hoots one more time, gulping her tiki drink with a satisfied smack of her lips.

“Now,” she says, shoving her sunglasses down her nose so I cansee her eye me in the FaceTime camera. “Give me all the updates on your re-meeting with the ex-bestie.”

This is it. This is the moment.

“So, here’s the thing,” I say. God, why am I so nervous? This is Nina, my queer best friend. The closest person to me in the world. Basically my sister. I’ve described the shape of dudes’ dicks to her, given her every glorious detail of the few spectacular fucks I’ve had in my life. She is my rock. She is a safe place.

“Dude, did you glitch? Is the call dropped?” Nina questions. I snap out of it.

“I’m queer.” I spit it out like it’s a piece of sour candy. Too tart to hold on my tongue anymore. “I like both women and guys. I always have.”

She sits up straight in her chair.

“I know it’s shocking,” I say.

She pulls her shades off completely.

“I haven’t told anyone, ever, except Julia.”

Her face screws up. “Okay, we’re gonna come back to that tidbit in a second, but, holy fuck, wow, amazing! And, I mean, also, that connects a lot of dots for me.”

“What do you mean?” I’m affronted. “I gave you dots?”