She didn’t want to
talk about Keith, even to Luke, because she was superstitious. She didn’t believe her good luck would last,
especially if she talked about it. The
last time she had tried to have a boyfriend, her father had punished her by
beating her up before raping her. And
anyway, what was there in fact between her and Keith? He was gay.
He was kind to her and he liked her but in the end he was gay. She had to accept that. He was attracted to men, not women. And yet … she couldn’t get the memory of his
hard-on brushing against her as they danced.
If he was gay, why had he responded like that to their dancing? Didn’t you have to be one or the other? Straight or gay? And if you didn’t, would he be faithful to
her? Could he be? She would shake her head here, as her mind
scurried along these familiar paths, because he wasn’t her “boyfriend”. He was a friend. No more.
But she must have
been more revealing than she realised because it wasn’t long before Luke
guessed.
“You are quite
keen on that Keith, aren’t you?”
“Oh, rubbish! We’re just friends.”
“Yeah, right.”
Esmé didn’t
answer. After waiting a few moments
for her response, Luke said, “He’s gay, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” Esmé refused to look at him.
“Ezz … don’t trust
bisexuals.”
“I’m not trusting him!” she snapped, stung.
“Ezzaloona, I …
don’t want you to get hurt.”
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