Page 67 of From Coast to Coast

I shake my head. “No, but…I don’t mean like what we had before. I can’t do the friends-with-benefits thing with you anymore, Remy, I just can’t. I want more and I know you aren’t in that space right now, and that’s okay. I’m not trying to pressure you. But I can’t pretend I don’t have actual, real feelings for you, because I do.”

“I don’t want to do that anymore either,” he says, before clarifying: “Friends with benefits. That worked for us when I was wanting to experiment, but it doesn’t work for us now.”

I wonder if the sharp pain in my chest is heartbreak or if the cold water is finally succeeding in stopping my heart. I try to swim backward and put a little space between us, but he tightens his grip and follows.

“Okay.”

“Gray.” He gives his head a little shake. “The casual thing worked for me because I was sad and confused about my marriage. It worked because I trusted you. I was attracted to you, even if that confused me, too. I’m neither sad, norconfused anymore. Not about you.” Another shake of his head, as he makes sure I know who theyouin this scenario is. “I’m wary about jumping into another relationship so soon, but the thought of you moving on and finding someone else is devastating.”

“I’m not trying to give you an ultimatum.”

“I know. But…” He looks off in the direction of the beach, biting his bottom lip. “I was married for three years, Gray, and never in that time did I feel anything close to what I feel when I’m with you.”

He grimaces at himself, smiling wryly. I wrap my fingers loosely around his wrist and wait for him to continue.

“Amanda figured it out long before I did, that she and I getting married was a mistake. Do I fully trust myself tonotmake another mistake? No. But I think not taking the chancewouldbe a huge fucking mistake. I want to take the chance on us.”

I have to close my eyes because hearing those words and looking at his face makes me feel a little faint. I don’t want to drown after he just told me everything I’ve wanted to hear for months.

“We’re not a mistake,” I tell him, injecting every ounce of confidence I can. “I know it.”

He smiles a quarter of a smile. “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“Let’s go in,” I say, tugging his wrist and nodding toward the beach. I want to get my hands on him and can’t do that when I need them to keep my head above water.

When we get to the shallower part, I waste no time pulling him into my arms. No matter how comfortable Remy claimed the water temperature was, it’s freezing now that we’re no longer submerged and the breeze is blowingagainst our skin. His skin is pebbled with goose bumps that I smooth away with my palm as I tuck my face into his shoulder.

“You won’t disappoint me.”

“I might,” he mutters. “I didn’t even realize I was living in a failed marriage until I was served papers. You had to move to a whole new country for me to realize I might not enjoy life without you. Hell, I still don’t even know what I am.”

Frowning, I pull away from him.

“What does that mean?”

“Heteroflexible. Pan. Demi. Fluid. Ace.” He shrugs, helplessly. “I’ve got no fucking idea.”

We walk over to the towels and I grab Remy’s before he can. Slinging it over his shoulders, I rub up and down his arms. Water drips from the ends of his hair and his eyes look impossibly bright in the slowly waning light. The sun is already low enough that there is a definite chill in the air where there wasn’t before.

“It doesn’t matter. Putting a label on sexuality makes people feel better because it’s just another way to control everything. ‘Queer’ is enough, you don’t have to take it further unlessyouwant to. You don’t owe anyone your identity.”

“Huh. Why didn’t Google tell me that a thousand searches ago?”

“Google isn’t queer, I guess,” I joke, and earn a laugh. “Listen, if it matters to you, that’s one thing, but if you’re only worried about what everyone else will think, that’s another.”

“No, I guess I just thought that I might feel less confused about this whole thing if I could point at something and say ‘oh hey, that’s me.’ But I can’t. I look at women and see something I like all the time, but you’re the only man I’ve ever looked at and also wanted to touch.”

“Grayson-sexual,” I say, remembering the way he’d joked about it before. We start walking back up to his house, hands finding each other simultaneously.

“Exactly.”

“You don’t have to tell anyone,” I remind him gently, as we step back into the house. He flicks a switch, flooding the open space with light, and uses our linked hands to tug me toward the kitchen. “If we’re going to be together, it’ll be a long-distance relationship, at least for the time being. Which means it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to hide.”

“I get where you’re coming from, and I thank you for giving me that option, but absolutely-fucking-not.” He lets go of my hand and pats a barstool, obviously wanting me to take a seat. He skirts the counter as I do and opens the refrigerator, pulling out a giant Tupperware of something labeledfishta salad.I have a lot of questions about that, but he keeps talking before I can ask. “I know that you regretted coming out while you were with Calgary, and I get why. And I’m not going to go about shouting that we’re together, but I’m also not going to lie about it if I’m asked. I don’t want to pretend that we’re just friends anymore. If we’re doing this, I want to do it right.”

“All right,” I agree, my voice sounding surprisingly normal even though my insides are currently dancing a conga line. I suddenly want to text every person I know and tell them I’m dating Remy Stone. He starts dishing up fishta salad into bowls, and I’m once more distracted. “What the hell is that?”

“Mm?” He glances up at me.

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