Page 52 of Shapes of Love
“It… doesn’t matter.” Kai scratches the back of his neck. “It’s not like I’m planning to kiss anyone else. I’m with Sasha, and that’s final.”
Final.It feels more like a sentence than a love declaration.
“Right.” Shame travels through me. I got him into this mess, and now he’s got no escape. “You’re mine forever.”
Without warning, Kai’s hand cups my cheek, a question in his eyes. I flinch, suddenly startled. It’s been so long since he’s touched me like this that I don’t know how to react. I had forgotten the scorching heat of his palms, the gentleness of his fingers as they curl around my jaw.
I know what he’s asking me. We need to sell this to Asher—that we’re in love, that it doesn’t matter if he’s queer, because I’m his one and only. If we don’t, we’re exposed. If we don’t, we’ll be caught in a lie, and everything will be over.
My head swims from the alcohol. Kai searches my face, looking for an answer to his question.Can I kiss you?The vulnerability that had flickered in his eyes moments ago has vanished. In its place, there’s a sudden apology.I don’t want to ruin the contract.
He wants to make things right so Asher doesn’t suspect, but it shouldn’t have to be like this. I try to speak, but fear has my heart hooked to my rib cage, so I just nod.
His fingers slide up my neck, curling into my hair with practiced ease as I kiss him lightly, but it feels empty. A performance, not a real kiss. There’s a hesitance to his movements as he presses closer, and I can feel the tension running through his frame. I try to get lost into it, his lips soft and familiar. It’s what Sassy would do. It’s what most people would do—because kissing is supposed to feel like fluttering butterflies, not a pointless exchange of saliva.
A blend of anger and guilt flares inside me. Right now, I don’t feel like he’s kissing me. He’s kissing Sassy. Because she’s straight and in love. I hate that she’s taking me over, takingthisover.
Suddenly I’m back in high school, and we’re dating, and I have this shitty feeling, like I have to hide who I am, because I’m broken. It’s different this time; at least Kai knows, but the feeling remains. Like I’m sinking into a hole I won’t be able to get out of.
Except now I’m dragging Kai into it.
Asking him to hide himself, too.
What’s the point anyway?
“This doesn’t feel right.” I pull away, pushing against his chest. My heart swells with a fierce protectiveness. This moment should belong to Kai. I know how much courage it takes to come out for the first time. I refuse to let it be overshadowed by a lie. My lie.
Kai grips my arm, but my heart is cracking open, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I turn to Asher, watching his eyes widen. “You weren’t… wrong. Kai and I are PR. We’re not together. I mean, we were, once. But we broke up because I realized I’m aroace. Aromantic and asexual.”
At first, Asher stills, barely reacting. My hands close around the sleeves of my hoodie. I expect the confession to fill me with panic. But all I feel is a sudden calm. Like being wrapped in a warm towel after a cold shower.
“Oh. Okay,” Asher says. He blinks, digesting his surprise. I wait for the list of questions he probably has, because everyone always has questions and apparently they’ve never heard of Google, but they never come. “Is that why you got into a PR relationship? You’re afraid to come out? Or do you just not want to?”
“I—I don’t know,” I admit. At first, I was worried about coming out because Marissa said it would ruin my career, but now, even if I don’t want to admit it, there are moments when I find myself enjoying this version of friend-dating. There’s no pressure to fall in love or have sex. It’s nice to have a person, someone who walks by your side. I don’t want to let go of that. “I know it makes me a terrible person.”
“Why?” Asher’s eyes harden.
“Because it’s a lie. I’m lying to everyone. To myself.”
“Asher,” Kai says, flicking a leftover piece of pineapple at Asher’s forehead, “if you tell a soul about Sasha, or the PR, things will get ugly, you understand?”
“I wasn’t planning to,” Asher says. “I’ve got secrets to keep, too.”
“Right, so that clears it up then.” Kai scrambles to his feet, careful as he maneuvers with the boot. When no one says anything, he starts clearing our things off the table, collecting the bottles and the empty pizza box in a plastic bag. “Maybe we should go home. It’s late.”
The room falls into an uneasy quiet. I don’t know what to make of it, how to act, what to say now. I push to my feet and start fishing for the candy wrappers that have ended up on the floor, but I’m met by a sudden wave of exhaustion. It’s past threeAM, and we’re all drunk and sharing too much. It’s dangerous. So why does it feel like a relief?
Asher barely moves, his eyes fixed on the mirror ball spinning above us.
Kai chucks an empty can at him. “Are you going to help us clean or—”
“The room is spinning,” he groans.
“Then unspin it.” I kick his beanbag and continue to pick up our trash, but Asher’s fingers wrap around my wrist.
“Sasha, listen,” Asher says. He reclines on the beanbag, covering his eyes with his arm. Whether it’s because he’s dizzy or doesn’t want to look at me, I don’t know. “There’s nothing wrong with PR relationships, you know? You’re not a bad person for being in one. Hell, without it, I wouldn’t even exist.”
