by Rowan Shaw
I swallowed hard. Yes, I'd had a threesome. But it was only once. And really, it was nothing worth crucifying me over. I'd let two guys do me at the same time. So what? Big deal! It didn't hurt anyone as far as I was concerned. It was the best sexual experience of my life. I didn't even know Marlène back then. And I was single, for fuck's sake. Why should I have to apologize for that?
"That was long before I met you, Marlène. You don't see me dangling your past in your face like that. I wasn't dating anyone then, so yes, I met guys before I dated you. So what?"
"Was Raphaël one of them? Was he involved in the threesome?"
I closed my eyes. So that was what her tantrum was about? Raphaël?
Yes, Raphaël was one of the two guys who fucked my brains out that night. That wasn't the day I'd met him, though. He was already a friend at that point—a friend with benefits, whom I liked to rail whenever we got bored.
That night, Raphaël was heading to some other guy's place. He asked me if I wanted to tag along, and we'd ended up in my room instead. So what? I didn't regret a second of it. Raphaël was phenomenal in bed, and he was one of my best friends. Unlike many others, he had always been there for me, no matter what.
"You won't ever let that one go, will you?" I asked, exasperated. Her jealousy toward Raphaël was ridiculous, and I was sick of her bringing him up in every fight we had.
"You think I forgot the one time you kissed him at that party?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"It was just one kiss, Marlène. One peck on the lips. It didn't even involve tongues. One slip. One time. When I was drunk off my ass. But you've made me pay for that tenfold since then." I shook my head, truly sickened. "I know it was wrong. And I know it hurt you. But I've apologized over and over again for that."
"Well, you're free now. How about you just go back to him?"
I could barely look at her anymore. Every feature of hers that I used to find so appealing, so sexy, so beautiful, was now twisted, distorted—her true ugliness rising from underneath her gorgeous veneer.
"I already told you Raphaël left for Paris. That was a goodbye kiss, a simple peck on the lips while I was pissed drunk at his going away party. I told you what happened and acknowledged my mistake, and I've apologized many times since then. You didn't walk in here to find me buried hilt-deep in his ass. That's the difference between you and me."
She made a face. "Please spare me the gross details."
"Gross?" I exclaimed. "How is that gross? It's not any different than some of the stuff I've done with you. You're gonna pretend you and I never did anal now? You're gonna lie and tell me you didn't love it? That you didn't beg for it? Give me a break!" I shook my head, so wound up I couldn't calm down.
"Your homosexuality has been hard enough for me to accept as it is. I don't need the graphics."
"I'm not gay. I'm bi, first of all. Not that it matters anyway. You've always been a spiteful bigot hating on all my queer friends. I don't know how the hell I even fell for someone like you!"
I was so ashamed I fell for her so hard and so quickly that I'd let her denigrate my community almost as soon as she reeled me in. She had tapped into my self-hatred ever since, and she'd managed to convince me something was wrong with me. As if my family hadn't fucked with my head enough, I was foolish enough to fall for someone who did nothing but put me down, too.
I couldn't remember how many times she told me I was lucky she loved me—and the worst was I believed her. All this time, I thought she was right. I felt unworthy. Broken.
But all that was in the past now. I was done. I was sure as hell never apologizing for being queer again.
Marlène let out a deep breath of disdain. "Leave my room. I don't care to see your face anymore."
"Our room. This is our room."
"It was, yes, but you're sleeping on the couch tonight." She flicked her hand at me like I was some pest in her face. "You have one week to get out."
With that, she stood from the bed and headed to the bathroom. She locked herself inside, probably waiting for me to get my pillow and scram.
Chapter 2
ENZO
"Are you okay?" my sister signed while staring at me, her freckled face scrunched into a frown.
I didn't reply.
"You know you can talk to me, right?"
I shook my head. No, I wasn't discussing this issue with her again.
She slanted her dark brown eyes, wrinkling the smooth skin of her forehead, and pushed a strand of her long, dirty-blond hair behind her ear. "Is it still because of Cyrille?"
"I saw him at the bar last night," I signed.
"And?"
I shrugged and grabbed my bowl of coffee, then winced upon taking a burning sip, the liquid scorching my tongue and forcing me to stick it out to get some relief.
"Ça va?" Adèle asked, sitting up.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just burned my tongue. It'll pass."
I grabbed a slice of baguette bread and spread butter and strawberry jam on top to make a tartine that I dipped in my coffee. When I took a bite, the throbbing of my tongue made it hard to enjoy the taste, but I chewed without complaint.
"Do you have any ice?" I signed with a side glance at her.
Adèle stood and reached into the top cabinet for a glass that she filled with filtered tap water. She gave me a sad smile as she pushed the glass over her red plastic tablecloth before grabbing a tray from her freezer over the fridge, placing it by my coffee.
"Thanks." I popped an ice cube out and dropped it in my mouth, relishing the cold sensation against my sore tongue.
"Did you talk to him?" Adèle signed.
"Nope."
Her comforting smile wilted. I couldn't shake off my melancholia. It'd been hovering over me like a dark cloud for the past six months. When Cyrille broke up with me, he took a huge chunk of my life along with him, all those dreams I had forged for us, all my expectations scattered into the wind. I hadn't tried to replace him, only because it was hard to find someone who understood my life, and I wasn't interested in random hookups.
"You're sure you two can't fix this? I mean, you were together for so long."
The cloud grew in my sky, obscuring all hope. I didn't want to talk about him anymore. My sister didn't know Cyrille like I did. She didn't know he had cheated on me. It wasn't something I shared with many people, mostly because I was embarrassed how long I'd known he was straying and how I'd stayed with him regardless. I didn't need the sermons or the humiliation.
I dropped the ice cube in the glass of water and ate a piece of my tartine, then wiped my hands on a paper towel and signed to my sister, "He was with another guy at the bar."
Adèle's face fell when she sat by my side. "Aww, sweetie, I'm so sorry."
Whatever! It was just as well that he had moved on. I didn't need that kind of temptation anyway.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders for a tight hug, but I gave another shrug, patting her back. I liked to pretend I no longer cared about Cyrille, even though I missed him every day. Pathetic as that may sound. It had been six months for goodness' sake. Why couldn't I get a grip? He was a cheat. A worthless cheat!
Adèle pulled away, her sweet rose smell permeating the air. "Did you tell him how you feel?"
"How is that supposed to help? I just told you he's got a new boyfriend." That and I didn't care to be cheated on again, thank you very much. At least, I had enough pride not to fall back into that situation willingly.
"Maybe the guy was just a friend."
Right! A friend Cyrille liked to tongue and dry-hump in public.
"Considering how they were sucking face all night, I don't think so."
"Really, Enzo, don't you think it's time you moved on?"
"I'm trying. But it's hard when he's everywhere I turn."
That Cyrille worked at the same school I did sure didn't help either. Nor did my dreams of him at night. They always felt so real. As if longing for his presence all day wasn't
enough, he had to invade my dreams as well, triggering cravings he wasn't even there to relieve.
I could still smell him all over my place, too. He always had such a strong, masculine scent. Back when we were together, I could always identify him by his deep sandalwood fragrance before I even noticed him in a room. Being able to recognize my boyfriend by smell alone brought me a sense of security and comfort no one could understand.
I gave my sister a half-hearted smile and finished my coffee. Then I swallowed down the rest of my tartine and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you for letting me stay last night, frangine."
"You can crash here anytime."
I nodded, but hogging the bed of my big sister's guest room wasn't a solution to my problems or loneliness. She lived far from downtown Nancy. Traffic was bad in the morning, and I couldn't afford to be late for work. Those kids weren't going to learn French Sign Language on their own, after all.
I paused at the door and braced myself. I already knew I'd be tense all day wondering when I might walk into Cyrille or in which hallway. There was a reason why people said you shouldn't sleep with your coworkers, but I'd been too stubborn to think that rule applied to me. I was just thankful summertime was around the corner, so classes would soon be over. Then, I could finally avoid him. Hopefully!
Chapter 3
FLORIAN
"I asked one of my so-called friends if he could help me out the other day," I told Héloïse, who sat in the blue metal chair facing my black desk. "He told me he didn't have time for that, and he didn't want to get involved. Funny how those who don't want to get involved still seem to stick by Marlène's side somehow."
Héloïse fixed her coal-brown eyes on me, her lips twisting. She hated Marlène even before she became my ex. Héloïse never made her feelings a secret. I knew exactly what she was gonna say when she opened her mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by my beeping phone. I raised a hand for her to wait while I pulled my cell out of my back pocket and stared at its screen for a few seconds, blinking. Well, news sure traveled fast in Marlène's gossiping world.
Jacques: Is it true?
I rolled my eyes and typed quickly.
Me: What?
Jacques: That you cheated on Marlène with some guy 'cause you're gay. Is that true?
My eyes bulged. "What the fuck?"
"What?" Héloïse leaned over my desk to read the message, but I hid the screen with one hand.
"Fine, don't show me." She shrugged and sat back down.
"I don't even know if I should respond."
"Well, you won't tell me what it says, so I can't help."
She crossed her arms over her chest, but I could tell she was just pretending to be pissed. Though she was my employee, she was also my best friend. Our relationship wasn't entirely professional since I tended to confide in her and she in me. I had a hard time considering her as anything less than a partner in my company, and I would have offered her that position already if the job was any good or if it brought in any money.
"Marlène's telling people I cheated on her with a guy," I explained.
Héloïse's face creased in puzzlement. "I didn't know you were out?"
"I'm not," I exclaimed. "And I sure as fuck didn't cheat on her."
"What do you mean you're not?"
"I'm not out. Marlène is outing me to everyone. I didn't tell you how I lost half my friends in the past two days alone? She's making up all this crap about me, telling everyone I cheated on her."
"What the hell?" Héloïse snatched my phone right out of my hands before I could react. She seethed upon reading the words. "What a bitch! I told you she didn't deserve you."
I was hardly surprised by any of this shit Marlène was spreading around, but outing me was really low, even for her.
"I just told you my friend Luc wouldn't help me, right? He said he didn't have time to help some damn liar like me. Everyone's acting like I owed it to them to be out. Like I betrayed them 'cause I was closeted."
Héloïse huffed at that and handed me my phone. "It's really none of their business. We don't owe it to anyone to come out. Trust me, soon they'll start worrying you might be flirting with them, too..."
I let out a deep sigh. I wasn't ready to tackle the problem at hand, but Marlène had left me no choice.
Me: I didn't cheat on Marlène. She cheated on me. With Guy of all people! And if I were to cheat on her, it wouldn't be with a guy.
Or a girl. Really. I wasn't some damn cheat.
Jacques: She said you're gay.
I shook my head.
Me: I'm not.
Jacques: So you're not into guys?
I tsked and typed a reply, then erased it, then retyped it.
Me: I didn't say that. I said I'm not gay.
Jacques: So you are into guys?
Me: You tell me.
Jacques: I don't get it! You dated Marlène for four years. How can you be gay?
My nostrils flared.
Me: I'm bi.
Jacques: That's not a thing, man.
Here we go again! I held the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes before deciding to grace his ignorance with a reply.
Me: What?
Jacques: Bi, that's not a thing. You can just say it if you're into guys, man. I won't judge. But really, you could've been honest with Marlène, that's all.
Me: Marlène knew the truth all along.
Jacques: So you two never had sex? I thought you were trying to have a baby. That doesn't work if you don't fuck, man.
Why did people always think that me being queer meant they could ask all kinds of weird shit about my sex life? That was exactly why I chose very carefully the people I actually came out to.
Me: Once again, I'm bi. That means I'm attracted to women too. I just happen to like men as well.
Jacques: Since when?
I scratched the crown of my hair. This conversation could take a while.
Me: Since birth, apparently.
Jacques: Don't fuck with me, dude. I've known you since forever. When did you turn gay?
I ran my tongue over my teeth. His attitude was getting old, and I was losing patience really quickly.
Me: Look, I'm at work. Can we do this later 'cause now is not the best time?
Jacques: You've waited this long to tell me you're queer. I think now is the time. I deserve to know.
I hated to break it to him, but coming out was solely up to me. It wasn't up to him or Marlène. He didn’t deserve to know squat. And I didn't owe anyone shit. People needed to stop acting like queers owed it to them to leave the closet when the truth was it was scary as fuck out there. Coming out should have happened on my own terms when I was ready, where and when I wanted. But Marlène had taken that away from me.
Me: I didn't tell you anything. Marlène did, first of all. Outing people isn't cool, Jacques. People can die from that. They lose their jobs, their homes, their families, everything. It's not a fucking joke!
Jacques: No, what's not cool is you lying about being gay when I let you sleep in my room while we were drunk, man. WTF! What about those times we jerked off together watching porn? Were you staring at my dick the entire time?
That was it for me. I turned off my phone and pocketed it. I wasn't going to deal with the homophobic shit right now.
"What did he say?" Héloïse asked.
"Take a guess."
She rubbed her chin, pretending to ponder that one. "He got mad he didn't know you were queer, especially considering how many times he let you see his wee-wee. Or he's worried you might be getting hard-ons thinking of him at night because he's so damn hot there's no way a queer man wouldn't be crazy for him."
A chuckle burst out of my mouth. "How did you guess?"
"Typical. I lost a bunch of my friends when I came out, too. Apparently, I can't be a lesbian and not want to bed all my female friends."
I shook my head. "Do you know a place where I could crash while I'm looking for an apartment?"
"I'd te
ll you to stay at my place, but you know how Emma is."
Yes, I knew all too well. Héloïse's girlfriend wasn't the most sociable person, as proven by her absence when my company hosted employee parties—all two of them.
"I need a place by the end of the week. Marlène won't let me stay longer than that."
"There's always the hotel."
I laughed without joy. "On my salary? I don't think so."
"You're the boss. Aren't you supposed to be making the most money out of us all?"
I scoffed at that. "Maybe in a few decades, but it's hard to make dough with a start-up."
I hated to discuss finances with her. My commerce was a thorny subject, and it was no one's business but my own.
"My friend Amal has a room she's looking to rent, but I don't think she wants guys. I can always ask."
"Amal, the beautiful girl I met at the New Year's party?"
"Yeah. Oh, I forgot you met her then. I'll ask her." Héloïse winked at me. Her eyes shone mischievously against her dark brown skin while her face framed by her natural blow-out beamed at me wickedly. I knew her well enough to guess she had some ulterior motives, but if she meant to hook me up with her friend, she was mistaken. I wasn't getting involved with anyone for a while—if ever again.
"I'll find something soon," I asserted. "But the agents ask for references and one month's rent in advance as well as my bank's info. I need to check out all the options in person too. All that takes more than one week. But I should be able to find something."
Or so I hoped. I wasn't sure how I'd gather a full month's rent to pay as a deposit, but I couldn't give up. I had no other choice.
"I can't believe Marlène didn't give you more time."
I tsked. Héloïse didn't know my ex too well, apparently. "Two days, that's all it took for her to wreck my life."
When I stood from behind my desk, she did the same and joined me by the smoke-filled glass door.
"Well, you have me," she reminded me with a broad smile of perfect white teeth, then she changed the subject. "What time is the first group for my tour?"
I looked at my watch. "In twenty minutes. You have a tour with a couple. You're tackling Stanislas Square. I put your schedule for next week on the board as well. Things will get real busy once July starts."
