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"But you told me-"
"I know what I told you," he cut me off. "That’s why I needed to talk to you about this. Because I wanted you to hear it from me...."
"Avda, what the hell are you trying to tell me?" I demanded. I needed him to be straight with me – I knew how hard this must have been for him, I could see it written all over his face, but neither of us was going to get anywhere if he just kept ducking and diving the question at hand.
"I...I like guys, Jo," he admitted, finally, not even able to look me in the eye. "I’m into guys. And I know how it sounds."
"What do-"
"I know what you think of me," he continued before I could say anything at all. "I know what kind of guy you think I am. I needed you to know before...before anything else happened with Kyra. I know most women wouldn’t want someone like that around their daughter. I don’t blame you..."
I was too shocked to say anything. I wanted to assure him that I didn’t give a damn who he was into, it didn’t matter to me, but it seemed like he had already made his mind up about how I was going to receive this news – no matter what I said to him, his shame, his doubt, his anger at himself for being this way had overtaken that. He couldn’t have heard it, even if I did have the words to tell him how I really felt.
"I’ve been with a few guys before but I’ve never had anything serious, if that makes a difference," he continued the words pouring out of him as though he couldn’t stop them. "I tried to push it down, but...but I can’t. Fuck, I want to, Jo, but I just can’t."
"Avda, it’s okay –" I tried, as I reached for his hand, but he snatched it away at once.
"Don’t touch me," he snapped. His voice was pulled taut, the tension obvious in the way he spoke. Had he ever admitted this out loud to anyone before? He’d been with guys, sure, but had he ever not loathed himself for it...?
"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here," he announced, springing to his feet like his ass was on fire. I got up too, tried to intercept him, but he was already heading towards the door.
"Avda, wait," I called after him, but he had already pulled open the door and stepped outside. I caught his arm before he could vanish into the night, and he glanced around at me. His eyes were burning with shame, and I felt a twist of deep sadness knowing how hard this had been for him – that he refused to even entertain the idea that I might not hate him for this.
"I should go," he replied, and he pulled his arm out of my grip and headed down the stairs. I thought about going after him, but I knew there was no way he would have listened to me. He had already decided how I was going to take this, and nothing I could say would change his mind.
I crossed my arms behind the small of my back and watched him go, my brain reeling from the information I had just received. So, not only was he into guys, but he was into Sasha? They had kissed? No wonder he had acted the way he did when he was confronted with the news that Sasha was bi-curious, he was probably hit with the realization that he wanted him. And he clearly despised that part of himself.
And that made me so sad, so fucking sad for him. He didn’t deserve to aim that kind of hatred at himself. I wished I could somehow convey that to him, but he had already made his mind up.
And I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do to change it. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to try.
Chapter Sixteen – Avda
"Hey, Avda, can I talk to you?"
I tensed as soon as I heard her voice. I didn’t want to speak to her right now, not after what had happened the night before – it felt too damn dangerous to let my mind go there, to let myself get drawn into a conversation about the way I had spilled my guts.
I had known the moment the words had come out of my mouth that I’d made a mistake. I just couldn’t risk Sasha being the one to tell her about all of this. I hated the thought of him spilling that to her, the thought of them sharing that news together.
I wished I could take them back, but the best I could do was just get out of there – put as much space between myself and her as possible, before she had a chance to ask me any more questions about it, before she could start pressing for more details. When she did, when she wanted to know more, I knew I would have to tell her the truth, and the thought of coming clean like that, the thought of being honest when all I wanted to do was keep it under wraps, made me feel ill.
"Sure," I replied, without turning to face her. My voice sounded robotic, as though it wasn’t actually coming from me. She reached out to put a hand on my shoulder, and I flinched, wishing I could pull away – but not wanting to break this feeling of her touch.
"Come on, let’s go to the office," she murmured to me. My heart sank. This was it, she wanted to tell me that it was over – whatever we’d started to build between us, it was done, because she didn’t want a man like me around her daughter. And who could blame her? I would have been crazy to think that she would just accept it, knowing the kind of person I was, knowing what I had done. I couldn’t help but think back to my own parents, the way they had spoken about those men who’d had encounters with other guys – dismissive, disgusted, like they were an affront against nature. That was me now. That was how they would have seen me, if they’d known.
I followed her through to the office, staring at the back of her head, trying to work out what might have been going on in there. Just because she had been kind to Sasha didn’t mean I was going to get the same treatment. It was different with me.
It had to be.
We reached the little staff office – the same place I had kissed Sasha. I could still remember the way his mouth had felt on mine, the confusing rush of emotions that had coursed through me in that instant. Want, mixed with anger, mixed with shame, a potent mess that made everything fall away for as long as it took to come back to my senses.
She closed the door behind us and leaned up on the desk, eyeing me for a long moment, like there was so much she wanted to say to me. I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted this over and done with.
"What is it?" I asked her, voice brittle, tense.
"I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said to me last night," she murmured. "And I...I think we need to talk about it."
Here it was. I prepared myself for the inevitable – her kind way of letting me down, trying not to let this hurt too badly. But making it clear, being firm in brushing me off.
