Page 20 of The Time It Takes

Chapter nine

It wasn't lying ifI didn't volunteer that I'd talked with Gary, and what he'd said, right? I had time to figure it out. How to massage the truth or present it in a way that didn't make me feel so awkward and off-balance. Yes, of course Arlie and I were close. And maybe from the outside it could look a lot like dating some of the time. Like when he pulled me onto his lap randomly because there weren't enough chairs, for instance.

I grimaced at the thought that the pack had been seeing us that way for a while.

I thought wolves were supposed to be more aware of attraction than other people, not less. You wouldn't think they'd make assumptions from a couple of things like that.

And the fact that we hung around each other all the time. And watched movies in Arlie's bed at night. It didn't mean we were having sex, and they had to know that. It wasn't like we were the only touchy-feely members of the pack. Plenty of times, there'd be a sort of wolf pile of pack members—in their wolf selves, in their human selves, it didn't seem to matter much—and nobody acted like it was all one big orgy. Wolves could be cuddly; big deal. It was nice, I'd always thought, how comfortable they were being around each other and hugging and all of that kind of thing. Affection and warmth.

But now those same things got turned around so we were romantically on the verge of dating? Or something?

Maybe I'd misunderstood him. It didn't seem likely, though.

They'd never said anything before. Maybe they were being discreet. Maybe it was just Gary who thought that. He'd seemed so casually relaxed about it, though, like it was obvious I was asking for myself, not for Arlie and his future dating men who weren't me.

I hated how off-balance this all made me feel. It wasn't as though I was disgusted by Arlie. I didn't want to give him that impression, and it would if I said it wrong. So maybe it was better just to wait.

Would I even have to tell him the whole truth? He wasn't likely to check up on me with Gary, since he always seemed a little intimidated by the alpha. What Gary had actually said might never filter down to Arlie. And if it did, he might take it casually and just laugh about it.

I wasn't there yet. I didn't know if I'd be able to laugh about this. Having people assume I was gay wasn't really anything new. It had happened a lot when I was in school. I was never quite sure why, and it always hurt. I didn't like being thought of that way when it was used to mock me.

I was sensitive and slight in school, and painfully aware of girls, who never noticed me. Most of the boys that I wanted as my friends turned out not to be interested. Some of them turned out to be bullies who went out of their way to degrade me for my supposed gayness.

I'd grown up a lot since then, physically and mentally, filling out and becoming more confident. But I was still a sensitive guy, and to some people, that meant I was gay. Not everyone meant it as an insult. But if you hear it enough as an insult, it starts to feel that way the rest of the time, too.

Arlie said I was attractive. Maybe that was part of why I'd been marked as gay in people's minds. A sensitive, quiet guy with a face that was more pretty than handsome. I wouldn't call myself particularly fashionable, but I wore clothes that fit. When I'd been in college and just looking for hookups, it had been pretty easy.

Frankly, at the time I'd thought the guys who complained about how hard it was to find girls who were interested in them were just whining. The girls I'd hooked up with or dated hadn't been particularly shy about it and had telegraphed their interest pretty clearly. I'd usually been the one asked out. All of my girlfriends—from college until Darby—had asked me before I got up the nerve to ask them, or sometimes before I even noticed them.

This isn't to brag. But I could be honest with myself that I'd never had trouble attracting women, even if a lot of guys seemed to think I was probably more interested in men. I'd told myself they were jealous and that was their way of coping. It seemed stupid to me, but so did men blaming and hating women who weren't jumping up and down to go to bed with them.

But Alpha Gary didn't have anything to feel jealous about, and hadn't seemed like he was judging at all. He just thought I was into Arlie.

The fact that I was so burned out on dating after things had gone so wrong with Darby didn't make this any easier. If didn't want anyone to ever think I was into guys, I could find a girlfriend. If I wanted to be a playboy instead, I probably could. Nobody was going to stop me. Even Arlie probably wouldn't care. But neither choice appealed to me. My confidence was shot, but it wasn't just that. I was at a point in my life where physical connection wasn't enough. And just finding "a girlfriend" didn't hold the appeal it once had. I wanted someone to care about, to come home to, and start a life with. I wanted real love. Without that, it was easier to just skip it, frankly.

Maybe I'd feel differently someday. Maybe by then, my good looks or whatever attracted the girls would be gone. Maybe I'd turn into an old bitter creep. I hoped not.

Call me an optimist, but I do tend to think there's someone for everyone out there. Of course, it helps to get noticed if you're conventionally attractive, reasonably healthy, and have a decent personality. Bitterness and mean-spiritedness chase people away more than anything else, I think. Most of us have witnessed a few too many toxic relationships to want to end up with that.

Yet it still happens. It happened with me and Darby. So there's no saying my scars from that disaster wouldn't leave me suspicious and hardened. I could easily end up bitterly looking down on women if I let myself. I didn't think I would. I'd liked women too much and for too long to ever believe I'd end up hating them and blaming them for all my problems.

But there was no hiding the fact that I wasn't interested in women at all lately, not to date, not to make friends with, not anything. Had I closed the door to my heterosexuality that easily? More likely, I just needed a break. It was Gary who had things wrong, and yes, the rest of the pack, too, if they all thought along those lines.

I did love Arlie. But I'd never thought about having sex with him. He was a great guy, and very handsome, but to me that was a hypothetical handsomeness, the way movie stars can be handsome, where it has no bearing on your own life.

Had I admired men before? Sure. But I'd never found myself wondering how much fun I could have in bed with a man rather than a woman.

I'd had some close male friendships growing up, until that sort of thing became viewed as "weird" by my peers. I found myself lonelier and lonelier, wishing for friends like that and never finding them. But people were busy. They didn't want to connect emotionally, or maybe they were afraid to—because they'd get called gay. It had all felt so complicated and sad when, as I grew up, there were fewer and fewer ways to connect with other guys. And the friendships that were available often turned competitive or involved a lot more mean-spirited banter than I was comfortable with.

I'd missed close friendships with guys, and I'd been so grateful to have some version of that back with Arlie. No need for pretense or posturing, just liking and trusting each other and wanting to hang out.

And yes, I'd been sad and jealous at the thought of losing that when Arlie started dating more seriously, especially dating guys, and not having as much time for me.

Did any of that make me gay, or bi?