Page 82 of Ambiguous
“Speaking of which,” he says. “I’ve been to your house, but you haven’t been to mine.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “It has an underground parking area, which you could use so you don’t get photographed. I could give you the code. I have an extra parking space.”
“I’d like to see your meticulously organized home.”
“I’m not sure it’s meticulous— Okay, yeah, it is.” He gets this adorable sheepish expression on his face. “My pantry is labeled perfectly. What can I say? I like being able to find things.”
“Yeah, labels have their utility. But I find them stifling.”
“I can’t picture you being stifled in any way. It seems like you’re always going to be a free spirit.”
I nod. “In school I had to wear a uniform. But I still managed to tweak it sometimes—coloring my shoes or growing my hair long. My mum never used to mind. She liked me expressing myself.” I gulp. She’s been gone for a very long time.
Sam tilts his head. I think he’s going to inquire about my mum, but instead, he asks, “Do people’s comments about you ever bother you?”
“Of course. I’m human. That’s why I don’t go online, try to stay away from what the fans and the media are saying.”
“I can understand that. It must be overwhelming. But at the same time… you’re in this position of power. You could effect so much change. And you don’t do it.” He holds up his hands, then picks up his club again. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m being like this.”
“I’d rather you tell me what’s bothering you than keep it inside.”
“I guess I’d like to see you live your life so that some kid out there could say, ‘If Julian Hill can do it, so can I.’ Or at least, ‘If Julian Hill is that way, it’s okay for me to be that way, even if other people tell me otherwise.’”
“Don’t I already do that?”
Sam shrugs. “Yes, as far as your fashion. But not as far as your sexuality.”
I press my lips together. “Loren said something similar. But my sexuality isn’t anyone else’s business.”
“And see, that’s where you’re wrong. Or, not wrong, but… You could do so much good. If you said, ‘I’m pan,’ or ‘I’m gay,’ or ‘I’m demi,’—or even, hell, just that you’re queer—someone out there would think, Jules is brave enough to say it.” He holds up his hands. “I know, you want privacy. And I do understand that. But you’re squandering this opportunity to be a leader.”
I nod. “I get what you’re saying. I’ll think more about it. I’m not actually in the closet, but perhaps I can be more open.” Perhaps I need to be, if I want him in my life. But I can’t make any decisions about that tonight. “We should finish up here. I need to get back to the studio in the morning to finish the album.”
CHAPTER31
Jules
Jules: What does a lawyer like yourself get up to on a Saturday night?
Sam: What does a rock star like yourself get up to on a Saturday night?
Jules: Funnily enough, when said rock star has a deadline and is listening over and over again to the masters of his new album, he doesn’t go out partying
Jules: Not that I do too much of that anyway
Sam: I’m pretty sure you’re not a saint.
Jules: I’m pretty sure you’re right
Jules: But you didn’t answer my question
Sam: I’ll show you.
Sam:
Sam: I’m sorting my junk drawer. See? Everything has a label for where it goes.
Jules:
