Page 83 of A Fae in Finance
“Why do you think I lay with the Gray Knight?” I asked, squinting against the light.
Sahir stood over the bed, arms crossed, wearing a loose shirt and black sweatpants. “Because she told me,” he growled. “Do you never listen to me?”
I felt the pit in my stomach opening. “Of course I listen to you,” I said. “But I didn’t…”
“Did you think that because she was the Princeling’s knight, she would not attempt to snare his human pet? You thought she would not want the clout? Of course she would! She is the Princeling’s knight. You do not become the Princeling’s Gray Knight by playing only one game, Miriam. She knows that humans are often monogamous. She wants your affection, and through it, your loyalty.”
I made myself laugh. “Sahir, I don’t have feelings for her. We kissed, that’s all.”
His arms flailed in the air. The last time I’d seen him this agitated, he’d turned into an incorporeal vine monster.
“Can you just like, sit down?” I croaked, scooting back until I leaned against the headboard.
He sighed but sat next to me on the bed, legs stretched out over the covers. He tucked his chin against his shoulder, frowning at me. The light gilded his ear, his jaw, the line of his throat.
“I don’t know her, really,” I said.
Let the record show that I had once imagined having a house and family with the guy who sat next to me in calculus, whose name I did not know. He had broad shoulders.
“And she’s not very nice to me,” I added.Most of the time.
Let the record also show that this had never,everstopped me from liking somebody before.
“And anyway, my parents wouldn’t approve,” I finished.
Let the record end with the fact that this was a lie. My parents would not care if I brought home a masticated fish stick, as long as the fish stick treated me well and had ambition.
“Are your parents homophobes?” he asked, tensing. “Must I educate them? Do they not know that you are a lesbian?”
I put a hand on his arm. “That’s sweet, I think,” I said. “But I meant because she kidnapped me, not because she’s a woman. And I’m not a lesbian.”
“You aren’t?” He took my hand in his in a gesture that aimed forcasualand landed somewhere aroundcalculated. Doctor Kitten, who looked jealous, jumped onto the bed and strutted between our legs.
I had a quick but quite ferocious internal debate about explaining sexualities to a faerie. Then I remembered our earlier classroom discussion. No topic was off limits. “I’m bisexual, Sahir.”
He dropped his head back against the wall. “What’s that?”
“Aren’t you in the LGBTQ interest group at work?”
“Yes.” He squeezed my hand. His palm was soft against mine.
“What does it stand for?” I started tracing a pattern over his knuckles with my other fingertip. The contact felt safe, lazy and hazy but still charged with some undercurrent.
“Lesbian, gay, biracial, transmutated, and quantified,” he said.
I pulled my hand away and stared at him. “Who do you think that interest group is for?”
He shrugged. “Shapeshifters, like me. And lesbians.”
“Okay.” It probably wasn’t worth addressing that any further.
We sat there. I fidgeted with the gold ring on my pointer finger. He put his hands in his lap.
“Um, just so you know, it’s actually lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer, meaning anyone who isn’t cisgender or heterosexual, which means they like people of the opposite gender.”
Sahir and I looked at each other. He looked unimpressed.
“Sorry, what would ‘quantified’ even mean in that context?” I brought my hand to my mouth and started gnawing on the tip of my thumb.
