“You trying to ram your tongue down my throat and dry hump me will look super fake. Or things will really go sideways, and he’ll try to fight you for making me uncomfortable. I’m asexual.” Joy can’t stop herself from laughing at his suddenly bewildered expression. “And so is Malcolm.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m a card-carrying member. Ran for club president twice.” She winks at him.

“Are you winking because you’re joking or . . . ?”

“You know how bisexuals get cool jackets and finger guns? Aces get winks.”

“Really?”

Joy snorts. “No. Now I’m messing with you. I just like winking.” She pushes her pretend glasses up her nose. “Every ace is different. Some are like Malcolm, who experience zero sexual attraction but still enjoy sex more than any human I know. Some are like me, who also don’t experience sexual attraction, but haven’t quite figured out the rest of it. And some are elsewhere. Everything in between, beyond it, and beside it.” She makes a show of creating a semicircle with her hands, like the rainbow meme. “It’s a spectrum. The more you know.”

Joy gives him time to process. People usually need it. Some can be super rude and start bombarding her with questions, expecting her to quickly spit out answers like an internet search engine. She can only speak for herself and has vowed to always be upfront about how she felt.

“But your pictures? And your clothes? And on the boat? The dances you did . . . I’m confused.” Fox rests his elbow on the island and his chin in his hand. “And I’m sorry in advance because I’m somewhat sure I just fucked up somewhere. I’m not trying to be offensive.”

This is the other reason why Joy likes to wean people into telling them about her side hustle. She models clothes of all kinds including lingerie—whatever she feels like wearing, she puts it on. The day Savage X Fenty sent her an email she damn near fainted.

Bodies are just meat suits and she happens to love hers. The way it looks in clothes and the way it looks naked. She loves feeling her version of feminine and loves that she’s asexual. All parts of her respected and treated with equal care.

Being confident in clothing doesn’t have to equal sexy. The way her legs look in a good pair of thigh-highs makes her giggle with delight. She routinely walks around in a flowing satin robe with feathered cuffs because it makes her feel chic. The perfect dress, the perfect pair of shorts, the perfect sweetheart neckline, the perfect pair of flannel pajamas—everything she puts on her body has to feel exactly right. Every photo she posts has to make her feel that same loving energy.

Joy isn’t ever trying to be sexy, but she knows that’s a projection and misconception she’ll always have to contend with.