Defining Love

Don't Confuse Things

“It's okay," she said, bringing her hand up and slipping it into my leggings and under my panties, making my breath catch as her fingers made their way down to there.

Edi was good at this. She was so good at it I knew without asking this was something else that wasn't her first time. She'd only been at it for a few seconds, and already I felt as if I would explode at any moment.

“Oh!" I cried out loudly against her mouth, my entire lower half of my body going weak. She latched on again continuing to kiss me as my entire body came alive. “Oooh!"

I swayed my hips, trying to stay in control because I didn't want it to be over. Moving my mouth away from hers in a desperate attempt to catch my breath, I gasped for air, and she sucked my neck just at the moment the incredible build up exploded and I cried out in pleasure. As if she knew the exact instant I needed her to stop, she did, and we both stood there silently as I struggled to calm my once again contradicting emotions.

“Doing that to you felt as incredible as I always imagined," she whispered against my ear.

Standing there, breathing hard, coming down from the high of my orgasm, my head cleared fast. This was not the first time Edi had done this. As good as I always imagined? How long had she been imagining doing this to me? And how many others had she done this to? Was beautiful girlie Edi really gay? I gulped, afraid to ask, and then she kissed me again. “You better remember that tomorrow," she said, pulling away but tugging my hand.

We walked to the chair bed I slept on in our small living room. Because her parents were paying the rent, I'd insisted Edi take the only bedroom in the small bachelor apartment. She started opening the chair bed for me. I stood there next to her, unable to think of a single thing to say. This was already starting to feel awkward, and I knew tomorrow would be worse once I was completely sober. What had we done? Was this a onetime deal like we'd said last time? Now she wanted me to remember this tomorrow? Why?

My suddenly terrified heart pounded. Was she expecting this to change things between us? How could I be so stupid? How could I let myself give into the heat of the moment without thinking about the big picture—how big a risk this was?

She must've noticed the change in my demeanor because she turned to me and smiled nervously. “Don't think about what just happened too much." The usual confident Edi I knew slipped for an instant, and she looked too nervous—almost as terrified as I felt. Then she smiled again. “We'll talk tomorrow," she said, pecking me softly. “For now, get some sleep."

I lay there, even as my body still tingled from what had just happened. My lips still tasted of her, and I couldn't sleep. The reality was sinking in fast. Everything that she'd just told me without saying hardly anything was too much. She'd said little, but her actions had spoken volumes.

Tomorrow morning she'd be gone to her practice most of the day, and I'd be left here to wonder what to make of all this: if and how this changed things between us. Regardless of her s****l preference, which was all too clear now, everything suddenly made sense. I still wanted her—needed her—in my life. I didn't want this to change things.

The light in the kitchen turned on, and I heard the refrigerator open. We'd both been drinking tonight, but like me after what had happened tonight, I was certain she'd sobered up too.

“Edi?" I called out as I sat up on my bed, my heart beating faster already.

She ambled to the doorway of the front room, holding a Gatorade, and leaned against it. “Yeah?"

She sounded as unsure as I did, but I needed to talk about this. This wasn't like last time. We'd both known exactly what we we'd been doing, and she'd admitted this wasn't her first time.

“I can't sleep. Can we talk?"

She shuffled over slowly to the small loveseat across from my bed and sat down, crossing her legs under her. One of the things I'd admired about Edi since day one was her self-confidence. It was refreshing, not annoying like some self-confident people could be. Right now she looked anything but confident. For once, she seemed as nervous as I felt.

“Talk," she said simply then glanced down her bottle of Gatorade and fidgeted with the paper wrapping around it.

“Are you gay?" I asked, my heart at my throat.

She nodded without looking up.

Even though I already knew the answer, it still stunned me. A part of me thought she might say she was bi or just liked experimenting. I was still holding out hope for the possibility that, like me, this was an exception she'd made just for me. Maybe when she said she'd done it before it was just an experience she'd had one time long ago. Anything but gay. That felt so . . . final.

“How long?" I asked.

Finally looking up, she smiled. “My whole life."

“But . . ." I stopped, not sure what I wanted to say. That shouldn't surprise me. I'd read up enough about this. Most gay people did know all their life. I guess I was hurt. I thought we were so close. “Why hadn't you told me?"

“In high school, only a couple of people knew. And I only came out to my parents at the end of senior year. I didn't wanna tell you because I was afraid to."

“Why?" I felt a lump at my throat, and my lip begin to quiver. “I would've accepted you."

She tilted her head, lifting her brow questionably. “Accepted me?"

“You know what I mean," I said quickly. “I mean it wouldn't matter to me. You're my best friend, no matter what."

She stared at me for a moment then looked back down at her Gatorade, fidgeting again. “But you're not gay . . . right?"

The fear inundated me. Was she saying, if I wasn't, we couldn't be friends? I gulped hard, feeling that familiar dread I felt so many times since I'd met Edi. The dread of losing her. “Why? Does that matter?"

Her head jerked up and she shook it. “No, it doesn't. I just wanted to be sure. I've always wondered. Then that night at the party happened and tonight . . ."

Feeling embarrassed and then ashamed, I tried to think of the perfect thing to say, but I couldn't. “I enjoyed it," I whispered.

“That doesn't mean you're gay, Henri."

Her words felt heavy as though maybe she was hoping they weren't true, but they were. We both knew it. I almost wished I were if it would make her happy. But as much as I'd enjoyed it, as much I loved Edi—of that I was certain—I wasn't gay. And that wasn't how I loved her.

“Your being gay doesn't change anything between us, Edi." It was as much a statement as it was a question, and my heart pounded. Just saying it aloud felt surreal. Edi was gay. “You're still my best friend, and I still love you just the same."

Her smile was a bittersweet one. “I know," she said. “And don't worry. What happened tonight won't ever happen again. I'm sorry if I went too far. I just . . . I'd been waiting so long to do that. A part of me really thought it never would—it shouldn't. It's what the smart part of me always said anyway. But there was another part of me that wanted it to." Her voice became a whisper suddenly. “So badly." She shrugged, avoiding my eyes. “So I gave into that part, but I didn't want the only time it did happen to be one you didn't remember. I'm sorry."

I didn't know what to say, but I knew saying I didn't mind if it ever happened again would be wrong. I wanted to tell her that I loved her kissing me—that I was beyond flattered that she'd been waiting so long to do it and that, ever since the first time, a part of me had actually been anticipating it happening again—but I couldn't. I felt so confused, yet somehow something in me knew I shouldn't say it. And it made my heart ache.

She unfolded her legs slowly and stood. “So now you know," she said with a faint smile. “I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

I stood now too. “Stop apologizing, Edi, please."

I swallowed back the emotion, not wanting her to see how weak and selfish I was, making this about me. Here she'd shared something so huge about herself with me. I just couldn't help it. Her somber mood was scaring me. It felt as if this might be the beginning of the end.

“I enjoyed it, Edi. I really did. My not being gay doesn't take from that. I could be bi," I offered, feeling desperate suddenly.

She shook her head. “You're straight, Henri. Don't confuse things."

I took a step forward, suddenly needing to touch her, so I reached for her arm. “It's possible." I didn't even know why I was arguing this. I knew I wasn't. But I was grasping. I wanted so badly for her to understand I still felt the same for her. This changed nothing. “It wouldn't be such a bad thing if it happened again."

Again she shook her head, but this time she smiled. It was less somber than earlier, but it still wasn't her usual bright smile. She kissed my forehead. “You're straight, babe. And saying I enjoyed kissing you, too, is an understatement of epic proportions, but trust me. It's not happening again."

She walked away and I got back in bed. Something about that kiss on the forehead felt like a goodbye kiss. Maybe not to me but to our friendship as we knew it. She'd been out to her parents since senior year, and told other friends but not me her best friend? Because she'd been afraid? Afraid of what? I almost got up to ask her, but I stopped. The thought of what the answer might be was terrifying. Was she afraid of the very thing I was fearing? That her coming out would change things between us?

It shouldn't. It wouldn't. We wouldn't let it happen.

As much as I wanted to believe that and as much as I knew I'd fight tooth and nail before I'd lose Edi, I still cried myself to sleep.