Chapter Eleven: Late Night Confessions

Daniel stood up to fix himself another drink, he quietly stirred his cocktail before he looked up. With a smile he thought of defusing the tension, “So, have you ever thought of men that way?”

Marissa choked on her drink.

She looked at him, eyes narrowed, mouth tugging into a smirk full of disbelief. It was the kind of look that said are you seriously asking me this right now?

And then she laughed sharp, tired, but real. A sound dragged from somewhere deep in her chest. “You’re unbelievable,” she said, still chuckling as she wiped the corner of her mouth. “Why do men act like women are all one Negroni and a bad breakup away from being bisexual?”

“That wasn’t a no,” he said with a smirk, already having fixed her another drink.

“Ugh,” she groaned out. Then she smiled, a wicked look about her. “Have you?”

“Hey now, we’re not talking about me.”

Why not?” she countered, curling one leg beneath her on the sofa. “Women get asked that question all the time. About experimenting. Curiosity. Sexual fluidity.” She lifted her glass and took a slow sip. “Turnabout is fair play.”

Daniel let out a long, theatrical sigh as he poured her another drink. “I was just trying to lighten the mood. We can drop it.”

“No, no,” she said, shifting forward, her voice low and teasing. “Come on. You started it. Don’t go shy on me now.”

“No,” he answered plainly.

“Really?”

He met her gaze and answered, “Really,” he said.

“Shame,” she said to him.

He snorted coming back around to sit with her, “Why’s that a shame?”

“Honestly?” She reclined back into the couch, swirling her drink with a devilish grin. “It would’ve been the perfect **** against Sam. She cheats on you with a woman, so you should sleep with a man.”

Daniel groaned and tilted his head back, eyes closed. “Yeah? And who’s the lucky guy in this fantasy?”

She gave him a slow once-over, lips pursed in mock thought. “Someone hot. Younger. Maybe a little dangerous. Probably drives a motorcycle and has terrible boundaries.”

“You really thought this through,” he said, laughing now.

Marissa sipped her drink like it was nothing. “I’m just saying, you’ve got options.”

“Mhmm,” he mused quietly sipping his drink. “You still didn’t answer,” he said to her.

Marissa stopped smiling and then just quietly began to touch the rim of her glass as if thinking about the answer. “No,” she answered after a moment. But the no seemed less firm than Daniel’s. It was softer, quieter—less a boundary and more a note of consideration. Like it wasn’t unthinkable. Just… unexplored.

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“Never,” he asked repeating what she had asked him.

“I had a boyfriend,” she said.

“Really?”

Marissa raised an eyebrow at his tone. “You sound surprised.”

“I mean… you give off ‘too cool for this shit’ energy. Like any guy trying to flirt with you would be dismissed in five seconds flat.”

She snorted. “That’s because I would.”

Daniel laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile again.

“But yeah,” she said, more softly. “Eighth grade. His name was James Tucker. He played clarinet in the school band, and sat behind me in algebra. He told me I had pretty eyes.”

“You do,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and continued.

“Anyways,” she continued, “three weeks later, I found out he and Becky Morrison were kissing behind the bleachers. I broke up with him by leaving a note in his locker that said, ‘Have fun with your woodwind section.’”

Daniel barked a laugh. “Cold.”

“I was twelve and petty. But after that I stayed away from boys and came out my sophomore year.”

“Well, if you ask me, James was an idiot for letting you go,” Daniel said.

“Please,” Marissa said with a scoff. “As if he could have actually handled me.”

“Well, in that case so is Olivia.”

At that, her smile softened. The grin remained, but it quieted into something else something deeper. And then, slowly, without ceremony or intent, she leaned back against him.