Page 45 of Reinventing Cato
“I was worried about you.”
Cato shot him a glance. “Were you?”
“Middle of the night. Snow. Ice. Your mouth.”
Cato raised one eyebrow. “So what happened? Why did you go quiet? What did I do wrong? Though I didn’t miss that the only word you uttered in response toDid I do something wrong?wasNo.But did I do something wrong?Not kiss you the way you wanted to be kissed? Tell stupid jokes? Look at you the wrong way? Is it because I’m bi?”
“Why is you being bi a problem?”
Cato patted Vigge’s cheek with cold fingers and smiled. “The innocence.”
“You’ll have to explain.”
“I tell you I’m bi and you accept it?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because most people I tell that I’m bi assume I’m gay and confused. I might be confused, but I’m definitely bi. Gay guys see that as a threat or a problem or a challenge. Mostly.”
“I’m fine with you being bi.”
“Then what was the problem?”
“I wanted…more, and I…”
“More what?”
Vigge hesitated. “Just more.”
“I think you need to be explicit. More tongue? More mouth? More throat? More stickiness?”
“More of you. I’ve been pretending for long enough. My life isn’t going to change unless I come out and stay out. I can’t have the things I want until I’m prepared to make that leap. I tell myself that I don’t deny my sexuality if I’m asked, and I don’t, but I make sure I’m never in a position where I’m asked. Faced with accepting that, with you making me see I wanted more, I panicked.”
“And now you’re not panicking?”
“I’m still panicking, but I’ll get over it. I’ve had enough of settling for less. It isn’t that I actively try to keep that I’m gay a secret, but I’m always aware that it is a secret. Not many people know and some who don’t are going to be shocked when they find out.”
Cato slipped on the ice and Vigge caught hold of his arm, then slid his fingers down to Cato’s hand, tucking both of their hands into his own pocket. He breathed out when Cato didn’t try to pull free.
“No handcuffs?” Cato asked.
“Other pocket.” His other pocket was empty.
“Hmm. Is that a lie?”
Vigge laughed. “I don’t carry them and I wouldn’t take them home with me if I did.”
“No big baton either?”
“You’ve seen my big baton. You’ve held it. More than held it.”
Cato laughed. “And you want more?”
“Yes. Of everything.”
“Fisting?”
“Ah, no, not everything.” Vigge gulped. “What made you choose that?”
