Page 27 of Dance with the Devil

I approach him carefully. “Cross? You okay?”

Mickey kicked him in the face, then pistol-whipped him with his gun. If his cheek isn’t fractured, he’s lucky as hell, but it’ll be purple sooner or later. His mouth is bloody, but I don’t think it’s his blood. Still, before he answers me, he swishes around the water he sipped, then spits it out into the basin of the sink.

It’s slightly pink from the blood.

He looks at it, shaking his head. “Just washing my mouth out,” he says needlessly. And then he adds, “Gotta get the taste out of my mouth.”

I nod in sympathy. “The blood.”

Cross starts filling up his hand again. “No. Not the blood.”

Oh. He’s talking about Mickey’s dick, isn’t he? “I hate that you had to do that.”

He washes his mouth out again, and shrugs. “It is what it is.” A pause, and then, “You ever suck cock?”

Cross knows I’m a virgin. I cringe to think about how desperate I was, but when we were hanging out, I wasn’t shy about being eager to lose my V-card. Now I’m pretty sure that never would’ve been with Cross, but when it comes to other sexual experiences… “No. I haven’t.”

“It feels great when someone you’re into is sucking yours. But having to be the giver… I can’t stand the taste of cock.”

And there’s the confirmation. “It’s good to know,” I say.

Cross has been avoiding my gaze. Not now. He looks at me, almost like expecting me to be appalled by what he did—or what he said. “You alright, Genevieve?”

I have no right to think my mortification tops what happened to him. He got beat, his brains nearly blown away, forme. Realizing that I’m not his type is nothing compared to that.

“Yeah. I mean, given the situation, I’m as okay as I can be.”

His laugh is hollow, fingertips probing his cheek. “Ditto,” he says, “though I wish you’d be honest with me. Something’s bothering you. No, don’t deny it. Come out with it. I know what you’ve gotta be thinking about what just happened. Don’t keep it in. Remember, we’re in this together.”

Right. Only one of us had a cock in their mouth and a gun to their head, though.“It’s nothing?—”

“Genevieve.”

Okay. He asked for it. “It’s just.. I didn’t know you were gay, okay?” I hold up my hands, cutting him off before he can say anything. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that. You wanted to be friends. I’m the idiot who deluded myself into thinking all those times we went out to eat were dates. It’s okay.”

“Genevieve—”

“Christopher,” I blurt out. “If we make it out of here alive, I’ll introduce you to Christopher. That thing with Jessie fizzled out. Maybe he’d be into a sexy artist like you.”

I’m babbling. Part of that’s because I feel embarrassed. The other part’s because I’m trying not to think about how, if I’d just gone to my knees instead, Cross’s mouth wouldn’t still be this bloody.

His eyes flash as I mention Christopher, but then he says, “Genevieve. I’m not gay.”

“Okay. Christopher is bi, too, so I get it?—”

“I’m not bi, either.”

I open my mouth.

He grimaces, and I’m not sure if it’s because his face has got to be killing him, or because he wants me to drop it. “Genevieve. I promise you. I’m into women.”

I don’t understand. “Then why were you willing to, you know, dothat?”

“It’s not my favorite thing to do, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he says in that flat tone that warns me against continuing.

I don’t. I can’t. “But you’re straight?—”

I’m used to Cross’s sad eyes. I’ve never seen them thisangry.

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