Page 22 of True Sight
“How was class this morning?” she asks. My alarm had gone off at 2:45 a.m. like it does every Monday so I can get to the studio to teach by 3:30 a.m. Thankfully I only have one class for the day which my body is grateful for. Mondays are a “one and done” day for me in the studio so I can use the rest of the day to catch up with planning classes and other admin tasks.
“It was good. I checked emails this morning and noticed we had several more membership interest forms filled out. Every time you post a clip from class we get, like, five or six more.”
“That’s so great! People are going to be busting down the doors when we open in January.”
“I hope so, or else completely uprooting my life and spending my inheritance was for nothing,” I joke. I push up from the table and go to order myself a tea. When it’s ready,I carry it back to the table and find Alex furiously typing on her phone.
“Everything okay?” I ask when I notice her eyebrows are wrinkled.
She sighs and slams her phone face down on the table as if it’s personally offended her. “Men are so fucking stupid. This is why I also date women. Women—most of them at least—aren’t fucking stupid. Are you sure you don’t want to be with a woman? We’re less idiotic than your male counterparts.”
I bite down on a laugh seeing that something, or someone, has clearly upset her. “I’m sure. I’ve tried women and I just can’t get behind them. Literally and metaphorically.”
This has her howling and her head falls behind her. When she looks up again, she wipes an invisible tear from her eye.
“I just don’t understand. I met this guy and things were so good. We had plans for later this week and now he’s acting like I’m the carrier of the plague.”
“Are you exclusive?”
“Is anyone exclusive these days?” Skepticism drips from her question.
“Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve been so criminally single that I personally wouldn’t know,” I reply, pushing my lips out at her.
“Oh stop, a catch like you? I don’t believe for a second you haven’t metsomeoneby now.”
“Well…”
“So there is someone,” she nearly shouts, her eyes becoming large circles. The way she jumps up in her seat causes her long dark ponytail to swoosh behind her head.
“Okay, please calm down,” I laugh, holding a hand up infront of me. I look at her for a second, considering if I should tell her or not.
“There is this one guy,” I sigh relentlessly. Alex squeals across from me in her seat.
“So what’s the issue? You’re cute and funny and the whole fucking package,” my new friend states.
“The issue is that I don’t know if he’s gay, or bi, or whatever. I don’t know, he’s hard to read.” Thinking about Conrad and the way his blond hair swoops across his face makes my insides turn over.
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“Alex, you don’t just flat out ask people their sexuality. Especially when you hardly know them.”
“Why not? I do,” she deadpans and I laugh because of course she does. Alex is a ‘take-no-shit’ kind of girl which is a big reason why I love her so much.
“Well I can’t ask this guy that, he’s not one who would take that question very well. He’s kind of grouchy.” My arms cross on top of the table in front of me and I smile as I think about our meeting last week. The way I thought he looked cute as he explained things on his computer and told me about his dog. How after an hour he pulled a pair of glasses out of his backpack and set them on the bridge of his nose. A feral scream rang out in my brain as he did and I prayed to the gods he couldn’t hear it.
“You like him,” Alex’s voice pulls me out of the memory.
“I do not.”
“You do, too, I see it all over your face. You’re down bad, boy.” She shakes her head at me with a smirk.
“Whatever you say,” I sing, suddenly feeling sheepish and exposed.
After skillfully navigating the conversation away from my potentially ungrounded crush, Alex and I spend thenext hour discussing this week’s class schedule and plans for the weekend. Once we’d finished our drinks and walked out of the small coffee shop, we hugged one another before heading our own separate ways.
My mind drifts back to Conrad on my walk home. His warm brown eyes and his propensity to wear collared shirts with the top few buttons undone. My tongue runs along the inside of my cheek, considering, and I pull out my phone to type a text. I read and reread the ten word message over and over before hitting send, knowing good and well that I might not get the response I want.
And while I’m not as bold as Alex to flat out ask about his sexuality, I’m bold enough to test the waters one toe at a time to see if I can figure it out for myself.
