Hypocritically, I spent the plane ride home reading up on bisexuality and scouring anything I could find on the internet. There were many stories of those who knew they were bisexual but denied it, afraid to embrace that label. And then there were just as many men and women who were oblivious to their attractions of the same sex until a person or a situation unleashed them. I even delved into many accounts of coming out and how it had affected lives.
No matter how many stories supported the confusions I carried, I still refused to admit they were anything other than just that—confusions.
Because… not gay.
Once I returned home, I forced myself to become engrossed in getting back to my routine and grading the rest of the papers I had yet to touch. Come Monday, I picked up the semester exactly where I had left off. The days went by quickly, with students wanting to discuss their midterm papers’ grades and the head of our department all gung ho, scheduling his typical rah-rah sessions. Even Kelly resumed her mission of seduction, still stuck on the assumption my breakup now gave her a chance.
Everything slipped right back to normal.
But at night, when alone in my bed while wide awake, nothing could distract the way my body responded to memories of his lips on mine. There was no sensible explanation as to why fantasies of what could’ve come after that kiss if I allowed it to progress caused my dick to swell. Those visualizations played over and over like a bad horror movie… one you were embarrassed to admit you secretly loved while scoffing at the absurdity of its plot. A contradiction to logic. And come every morning, I purposely ignored the way my cock screamed for release.
Like now.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand and groaned at the ungodly hour. Today was Saturday, which meant I would need to search hard for distractions over the next two days until back in my classroom. With Sam still on his honeymoon our weekly gym date wouldn’t happen. No reason to crash at my parents’ place since they were still in Florida. Most of my work colleagues were busy on weekends with their wives and kids.
Being a loner had served me well over the years, and I never had a problem walking to the beat of my own drum. I’d been that way since childhood. But the very thing I prided myself on now made me antsy.
And even if those closest to me were around, I had no one I felt comfortable enough to confide in. Besides, what the fuck would I say?
I kissed a guy, and now my head’s a mess because my traitorous dick liked it.
After a few cups of coffee, and a few mindless hours of channel surfing, I threw on my running clothes and headed into the frigid morning air.
The practically deserted boardwalk was a result of the early hour, the ominous sky, and the punishing wind whipping off the ocean… but the scenario perfectly matched my mood. I stretched for a few minutes and ran for close to two hours. The coastal landscape went unnoticed as my mind reeled with questions for which I had no answers. No matter how I spun my situation, the reality was I unexplainably was attracted to another man.
“Coop!” At first, I assumed hearing my name through the whipping wind had been a figment of my imagination, until I heard it louder and closer. Twisting around while slowing my jog, I saw Riana quickly approaching. “Hey,” she said through a brilliant smile. When a twinge of regret pinched in my chest, I realized I truly missed her.
“Hey,” I responded, throwing my arms around her the moment she reached me, surprising us both as my grip tightened and held.
“Wow,” she said when I released her. “That was quite a greeting.”
“It’s great to see you, Ree.”
“How was the wedding?” My smile faltered for a nanosecond before I schooled my features, but she caught it as her gaze searched my eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
Unconvinced, she took my hand and led me to the nearest bench. “What’s wrong?”
Everything that was wrong sat poised on the tip of my tongue, ready to spew. But once out, there would be no turning back. My predicament affected her as well. It would devalue our time together, turn it into a farce, make her nothing more than a mask I’d worn to hide the real me.
Yet something told me she’d hold no judgment, and that alone had me wanting to confide in her.
As she waited for me to speak, a violent shiver traveled through her. “Ree, you’ll get sick out here.” We were much closer to her place than mine, forcing me to ask, “Are you just starting or returning?”
“I’m all done,” she easily admitted, but something in her expression told me she had just lied. Before I could challenge her, she added, “Let’s go to my place. I’ll make us coffee, and we can talk.”
Selfishly, and before I could change my mind, I accepted her offer with a firm nod. “Okay.”
While Riana made us coffee in her kitchen, I continued to flip-flop between confiding in her or not. Voicing my issue out loud would make it more real. As irrational as it was, I continued to blame Ricky. If he hadn’t come on so strong, none of what followed would’ve happened.
Yes, I was completely aware that sounded ridiculous.
But being home for a whole week, while still harping on what had gone down between us, was slowly pecking at my resolve and making me nuts.
“Here we go,” Riana said while carrying two mugs filled with coffee and handing me mine prepped exactly the way I liked it.
“Thanks, Ree.” That simple act flared the regret I carried for not being in love with her. Just like that, the coin of uncertainty flipped back to the not-to-confide-in-her side.
Oblivious to my angst, a genuine smile spread. “You’re welcome.” Her eyes held mine as she tipped her mug to take a sip, but she waited for me to begin. This was typical of Riana: listen first. Still, I couldn’t get the words to slide past the lump in my throat. Knowing me as well as she did, the pregnant pause, combined with my tortured expression, caused her to reach over and take my hand. “Coop, you’re scaring me. Is it work? Are you sick?”
“No. It’s nothing like that.” Although I could claim a bad case of temporary insanity. Remembering something that stayed with me from the night she broke things off, I asked, “What did you mean when you said you weren’t sure I knew what it would take to make me happy?”
She released my hand while a pink tinge spread on her cheeks. It was my turn to wait her out as she collected her thoughts.
“I don’t know. I guess because when we were together you seemed anxious, especially toward the end.”
“Anxious in what way?”
She placed her mug on the coffee table and tucked her feet beneath her. “I knew you cared about me, and you made it your business to show me that you did.” Her blush deepened while she bit on her bottom lip, a nervous habit I always found endearing. But now it only worsened my unsettled thoughts.
“What?” I prodded.
“I felt like you felt obligated to do so… like it was a task and not a natural occurrence.” Instantly, she backpedaled. “I’m sorry. It’s me.”
“It’s not you.” Placing my untouched coffee on the table beside hers, I dragged in a deep breath. The need to release the toxic secret I carried caused me to blurt out, “I might be bisexual.” It wasn’t disgust or even shock that crossed over her pretty features; it was compassion I saw in her dark-brown eyes. “You don’t look surprised.”