Page 19 of The Unfinished Line

How did I fix this? And was there even a point in trying? It wasn’t like I was going to see her again.

But I also didn’t want her to think I was an asshole.

I looked up, searching for an answer, and found Sophie’s sagacious gaze bearing down on me.

“I know that look,” she said, her heart-shaped lips puckering into a sympathetic smile. “Boy trouble?”

Sophie wasn’t like Dani. To Sophie I could simply sayit’s nothingor, even more directly,I don’t want to talk about it,and she would respect my privacy and courteously move on to the next subject. Dani would have tackled me for my phone. She would have grown belligerent with my reluctance to discuss it.She would have accused me of being a bad friend for keeping secrets to which she was not privy.

Not Sophie.

Which is likely why I abruptly unloaded my entire Hawaiian escapade onto her unsuspecting shoulders.

I started with the call from Aaron—admitting only that I’d landed a fortuitous role for an upcoming project—and ended with my last night in Hana, reading aloud the text I’d just received.

I worried I may have been crazy to tell her anything. Not about the project—I hadn’t said anything that would break the rules of my NDA, and even if I had, Sophie was the last person on earth who would ever breathe a word that risked getting me in trouble—but I honestly wasn’t sure how she’d react to my chronicles about Dillon.

Over the course of our friendship, I’d learned both of Sophie’s parents were devout to the school of Theravada, the most orthodox of the three major philosophies of Buddhism. Sophie’s own beliefs were more relaxed—something which her Phuket-born parents frequently gave her grief about—but I still wasn’t sure how she’d respond to my sudden uncertain attraction to a woman.

A concern which I immediately kicked myself over, given my knowledge that Sophie was one of the most open-minded individuals I had ever known, and it was sheer stupidity to doubt the genuineness of her nature.

By the time I’d stopped talking, she’d cleared the debris of our meal to the side of the table, poured us both another round of sake, and folded her hands in herthinkingpose, giving me her full consideration. She appeared neither shocked nor troubled by my revelation.

“Tell me this: what is the outcome you would like to achieve?”

I stared at the disintegrating case on my phone, lost for an answer. I hadn’t really considered what I wanted. I’d focused only on the problem. I’d given no thought to a solution.

In her ever-composed manner, she continued. “For instance, if there were no impossibilities—what result would you hope to attain?” This was pure Sophie. Thoughtful. Enlightened. Always searching for balance to allow life to flow with peaceful ease. A solid reminder why, at twenty-three, she’d just returned from making a documentary that was a shoe-in to win theL’Oeil d’orat Cannes, and I’d just set my elbow in the soy sauce dish while trying to match her halcyon equilibrium.

Fuck me.

I tried to casually mop up the mess while she proceeded to prove to me I was making a mountain out of a mole hill.

“Are you just wanting to smooth things over? To ease your conscience and make certain no feelings were unintentionally injured? Or were you hoping to see her again—to consider pursuing this? What would be your ideal scenario?”

When put like that, it wasn’t difficult to decide which result I wanted most. If any of the options were available…

I’ll take See-Her-Again for $500, Alex.

“I’d pursue it.” I couldn’t believe I was admitting this. Dani would have flipped out. Hell,Iwas flipping out.

But Sophie was not.

“Then let’s find a way to take the next step forward.”

I hesitated. This had gotten really real, really quickly. “I—I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve got a lot going on, and—”

“You know, in the five years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you as nonplussed over Carter, or any of your revolving door dates, as you have been tonight. I think that speaks for itself.”

“I’m not saying I’m gay, Sophe!” I didn’t even know where the defensiveness came from. It wasn’t something I’d been overly concerned about. I just felt like I suddenly didn’tunderstand myself. And it was a little freaky to think, at twenty-three years old, I didn’t know who I was. I glanced down at the +44 number still lit on my screen. “I just… I’ve never found myself attracted to… I don’t know why…” I trailed off. When I looked back up, sheepishly catching her onyx gaze, she let out a small sigh, composing herself as if she were about to explain something tedious to a dense child.

“You do realize, Kam, there’s a lot more on the palette than simple black and white—gay or straight—right? It’s not always so much about the gender as it is about the person. Finding yourself attracted to one individual doesn’t necessarily label you in any specific classification.”

Embarrassed by the sensibility of the lecture, I sank a little lower in my seat. “Yeah,” I muttered, realizing that made sense.

“Good.” She reached for her sake. “Now that that’s settled—you said she has a race in Key West coming up?”

Scene 8

---