Page 107 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“If I walked over there right now and kissed you, which I'm not going to do because consent matters, would that make you a lesbian?”
Her face went pink. “What? No, that's not?—“
“No?” I tilted my head. “But by your logic, one kiss, one relationship, one experience defines someone's entire sexuality. So which is it?”
“That's different?—“
“Is it? Because last time I checked, me eating a salad doesn't make me a vegetarian. I'm bisexual when I'm with a man, when I'm with a woman, when I'm single, when I'm married. It's not about who I'm with, it's about who I am.”
Sloane's mouth opened and closed like a fish.
“And just to be crystal clear,” I continued, my voice steady and firm, “Gryff and I aren't together despite our bisexuality or because we've somehow 'moved past it.' We're together because we love each other. All of each other. Including the parts that make people like you uncomfortable.”
“I'm not uncomfortable?—“
“Really? Because you just spent five minutes trying to erase fundamental parts of our identities to fit some narrative you've created about what 'real' love looks like.” I leaned forward. “Our love is real. Our identities are real. And if you can't see that, that's a you problem, not an us problem.”
The silence stretched out. Sloane's phone was still recording, but she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.
“I think we're done here,” she said stiffly, grabbing her phone.
“I think we are,” I agreed pleasantly.
She stood up so fast she nearly knocked over her chair, muttering something about needing to check footage before hurrying away.
The moment she was gone, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. My hands were shaking slightly from the adrenaline.
“Holy shit,” Gryff said quietly. “That was...”
“I know. I'm amazing.”
“You are.” He turned to face me fully, his eyes intense. “You protected me.”
“That's what we do,” I said simply. “We protect each other.”
He kissed me then, right there in the hotel bar, deep and thorough and claiming. When we broke apart, both breathless, he rested his forehead against mine.
“I love you,” he said. “Every part of you. Including the parts that just verbally destroyed a reality TV producer.”
“Especially those parts?”
“Especially those parts.”
Back in my hotel room,we barely made it through the door before Gryff pressed me against it, his mouth hot and insistent on mine.
“We have the Team GB dinner in an hour,” I managed between kisses.
“I know.” His hands framed my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. “I just... watching you defend us like that. Defend yourself. God, Artie.”
“I wasn't going to let her diminish what we have.”
“No, you weren't.” He kissed me again, softer this time. “You're incredible.”
The tension from Sloane's interview finally flittered away like nothing more important than a fall leaf on the wind. The way we felt about each other, protected each other, and loved each other more than someone like Sloane could ever understand was what was important.
I pushed him toward the bed, and he sat down, pulling me between his knees.
“We really do have to get ready for dinner,” I said, running my fingers through his hair.
