And then she had taken my head and pushed it under.

“She told me to get the hell out and never talk to her again,”

I said. “The next day, when I went to school, everyone knew.”

“Fucking bitch,” Noelle hissed, making me look up at her. Her jaw was set, her hands balled into fists where they rested on her thighs. Her eyes were staring at me with so much intensity I had to avert my gaze.

“You could say that,” I murmured. “You know, at that time I had barely just come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t straight, so I wasn’t at all ready for it to be out in the open like that. It already felt terrifying enough to find out that the perception of me that I and everyone else had just wasn’t true. I still wasn’t sure what all of it meant or how it fit into what I thought to be true about myself; like, would I have to cut all my hair off now so that I fit the stereotypes, or was there something else that was expected of me? Half the time I was still trying to figure out if I was somehow faking it, which I guess is a form of denial as well.”

“I went through the same thing when I was figuring out that I’m bi,” Noelle said. “It’s called compulsory heterosexuality, I think. When all of society expects you to be straight, it makes it even harder to come to terms with the fact that you’re not.”

I nodded, my words caught in my throat. Under Noelle’s steady gaze, I felt tender and raw, a barely healed wound that was still bruised around the edges.

“It’s especially fun when you’re bi,” she said. “Even now I sometimes still go through these phases where I’m like Maybe I was just trying to convince myself I’m into girls to make myself more interesting. Which is just such bul shit. I mean, first of all, there’s literally no gain in being a minority, especially when you’re already Black. And second of all, no straight person would spend so much fucking time taking Am I gay? quizzes.”

“You did that too?” I gasped.

“So many times,” she laughed, shaking her head. “And if I didn’t like the result, I would just go back and pick all the obvious straight answers.”

“Oh my God, where were you two years ago?” I asked. The pressure I had felt on my chest a few moments ago had subsided by now. Instead, something warm had settled inside my rib cage.

“It’s crazy how you’re convinced you’re the only one going through these things when in reality there are millions of people who are in the same boat, isn’t it?” she asked, running her finger along the grain in the wooden bench. “For me it was Jas who first made me realize that I’m not alone. Not in this, at least.”

We were both silent for a moment before she looked up again and said, “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your story. What happened then?”