Page 118 of Ambiguous
Sam: I’m so sorry.
Jules: What do you want to do?
I sniff in annoyance, my fingers flying over the screen.
Sam: It doesn’t matter what I want. Politics is all that matters right now. We can’t have Fred Stone lose because of me.
As we drive toward the beach, images from the past few weeks flood my brain. Julian in my office, offering me my pocket square back. Dancing with me under the twinkle lights. Taking time to hang out with me after his concert. Being vulnerable with me, letting me see his rational and irrational fears. And our time at the cabin. On the beach. In his bedroom.
Jules has never lied to me. He’s always been honest about how he’s not exactly straight, but he wants his privacy.
And today he gave up that privacy for me.
My phone buzzes.
Jules: I’m livid with Colin. But if he goes forward with this story, won’t it be better if at least we can show we’re in a genuine relationship now? And that your family supports us? Wouldn’t that maybe help shift the tone of the coverage?
He’s right.
And the thought of going out with Kurt, holding his hand for the cameras, kissing him, when I’m in love with Jules—yes, I’m so in love with him—is filling me with dread.
This isn’t how I want to live. I want to be in charge of my life. I want to be honest. I don’t want to do things because of the way they look. I want to do them because of the way theyfeel.
The way I feel when I’m with Julian—when he tilts my head up with his knuckle and kisses me. When he’s a solid and comfortable presence at my family dinner.
My brain goes blank, and my hands start to tremble. At first I think I’m panicking the way Jules did in the elevator. But then I realize I’m pissed off. Pissed at my family, pissed at myself, pissed at the world.
A hot tear slides down my cheek, and I bat at it with the back of my hand.
A voice that sounds suspiciously like my mother tells me I’m overreacting. That this is a charade I’ve played for years now, and what’s one more time in the grand scheme of things?
Especially when I’ve dedicated my life to the LGBTQIA+ rights movement.
Without my old firm’s backing, I won’t be able to work on the initiatives I was hired to champion. Even if I can get a job with Weston& Ramirez, they probably don’t have the same clout—or the budget to support that kind of pro bono commitment. Fuck. I’m hurting the cause. Maybe I should just keep everything the way it’s been. That’s what everyone wants me to do—my family, the campaign. Probably Julian’s fans. They want him to stay single.
I know I’m spiraling, or seesawing, or maybe my brain is on a Tilt-A-Whirl. I’m going back and forth and feeling sick, but I can’t get my thoughts to slow down long enough to think anything through.
I look at Kurt. He’s a friend. I’ve been affectionate with him for years.
But the thought of kissing him… I can’t. Everything’s changed. I’ve fallen in love with Julian, and I can’t do this to him.
I go hot all over, and I feel like I’m going to faint.
Kurt looks at me and calls to the driver, “Stop the car. Pull over, please.”
He puts an arm around me, but I shy away from him.
“Sorry,” he says. “Shh, Sam. It’s okay. Hey, I’m here.”
His voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere hollow.
“Take a deep breath,” he continues. “When’s the last time you went to yoga?”
I think about it. “A while,” I say in a hoarse whisper.
“Do you need me to call someone?”
“Julian. Please.” I hand him my phone, unlocking it. I vaguely hear Kurt’s muffled voice—even though he’s sitting right next to me, I can’t make out his words through the buzzing in my ears. Then he’s asking the driver something, and I notice the car moving again.
