Page 121 of Ambiguous
His grin when he whips his head my way almost makes me stumble, it’s so dazzling. He’s got a dimple in his cheek that sometimes shows, sometimes hides. I get a glimpse of it, and it makes my heart happy. We eye each other, silent communication that says:
I believe in you.
I trust you.
I know you can do this.
And:
We fucking rock.
We belong together.
“I love you, too,” he murmurs. Then, a little louder, “Shall we?”
He radiates more confidence than I feel, which makes sense—he feeds off the energy of a crowd. Though, to be fair, this is different from his concerts.
More exposed. Less produced. All real.
We’re off to the side of a hotel stage, a stand bristling with microphones in the center. Peeking out into the crowd of reporters, I’m not sure if I’m anchoring him or vice versa.
“I’m glad we’re doing this together,” he says.
Holding hands, we walk out onto the stage, and the cameras immediately start snapping, flashes going off like fireworks. It’s disorienting for a moment, but we navigate to the podium.
I drop his hand and take a step back. We discussed what degree of PDA we’d give them, and, well, some things are private.
While I can’t see Jules’s expression from where I stand, I can see the reaction of the crowd, and they’re rapt, quieting down immediately as he opens his mouth to talk. Old-school reporter notebooks with pencils, iPhones, professional video setups, and everything in between are set to record what Julian Hill is going to say.
Julian speaks directly into the microphones. “Hey,” he says in his gorgeous voice. “Thanks for coming today.” I can see his shoulders rise and fall, and I want to squeeze his hand. “I’ve been feeling the need to say something publicly that I’ve never said before.” He takes another deep breath. “It’s about who I love. Who I choose to be with.
“I’ve always said in the past that this was private, because it was. It is. Some people took my desire for privacy as an indication I was ashamed of my sexuality or that I was trying to hide. I wasn’t. I just didn’t want to bring the whole world into my bedroom.
“But now I want to share with you two things. First, I am in a committed relationship with Sam Stone. So, second, yes, at least a facet of my sexuality is that I’m not straight. I don’t have a label beyond that. Don’t ask. I don’t know. None of the terms I’ve heard has ever felt right for me.
“However, I want to talk directly to those who might not be in this room. If you’re questioning the gender you are attracted to, or whether you’re interested in sex or romance at all, I want you to know that it’s okay to take the time to figure it out. You don’t owe anyone a definition. And you don’t have a responsibility to label yourself in some way to make someone else happy.”
A shiver races through me. I’m so glad he’s doing this. I’m so glad he’s stepping out and being the leader he is.
Jules continues, “But not defining yourself can make it more difficult to find community. And sometimes community is the most incredible thing you’ll ever know. If you feel comfortable identifying with a community, then do it. You don’t need my permission to be who you are.”
He looks at me and smiles. “I don’t ever want my partner here to think I think less of him because I don’t tell you about him. Quite the contrary: I want to keep him to myself because he’s so special. Some things need to be just ours. So, there’s a balance. I want you to know that I’m with Sam, and I’m overjoyed about that, and I hope you’ll be happy for us—or, at least, respectful of what we share with the world and what we keep private. Next, I recognize that as a public figure I have a responsibility. I have a leadership role, even if I didn’t totally intend it. And as part of that, I want to tell you that it’s okay to be you. Whoever you are. If you are comfortable identifying as a particular label, I am proud of you. If you don’t know what label fits you, I’m proud of you. If you don’t ever want to find out, I’m proud of you. Wherever you are on your journey to claim or reclaim your own body, just as you are, you are worthy of love and respect.
“I’ve gone a long time thinking you don’t need to hear this from me. Having some bloke say you’re gorgeous just the way you are isn’t going to solve anything. But maybe youwantto hear it from me. Maybe me saying this to you can help.
“So. You are wonderful just the way you are. If it makes you happy to find a group to be a part of, go find them. And if you feel more comfortable blazing your own path, go do it. We don’t have to fight for space. There’s room for everyone.
“I wish you much love and light. And I wish you find someone who makes you feel as good as Sam makes me feel. Thank you.”
He takes a step back, and the room explodes with noise from people standing up, waving hands, asking questions.
But he’s not answering reporters’ questions today. Although I think he’s answered a few for himself.
He looks around for me and grabs my hand. His palm is clammy. That’s the first indication I’ve had that this got to him at all.
You’d never know he was stressed, though, from the way he smiles.
Drawing our clasped hands to his mouth, he kisses my knuckles. I’m sure the pictures will show me gazing at him adoringly.
