Yet To Be Determined

Chapter 3

As the first few weeks of classes rolled along, Katie and I naturally got to know each other better. She had an older brother that was about 26, and based on her description of them, her parents sounded relatively normal. A foreign concept to a person like me. 

Turns out my first assumptions about her were correct (hold your applause): she was fairly popular in high school and had been quite the rising star on her school's volleyball team, but she never really intended to keep playing in college. 

"Sure, it was fun, and it kept me in great shape," she'd told me, "but the very thought of trying to balance a whole volleyball schedule AND 16 credits seemed like a suicide mission."

And sure, I opened up and talked about myself too. My favorite singer (Pink), my favorite movie (Get Smart, criminally underrated), and how I secretly loved young adult fiction stories. And rather than fully read her into the past 6 years of dysfunctional parenting I bore witness to, I kept that part of her orientation to an appropriately succinct highlight reel. 

Then, of course, came feeling out the whole bisexual thing. Seeing how my friends from high school reacted, no jury would convict me for feeling a bit nervous at my first new friend finding out. But at this point, fuck it. If this was gonna be a dealbreaker, let's get it out of the way now so I can go back to glaring at everyone in the hope that they're too scared to approach me. 

The whole conversation started when I got a little distracted staring at a cute male Starbucks barista one sunny Wednesday morning. 

We grabbed our coffees as our names were called and made our way outside to the picnic tables set outside the West Side Cafe on campus. Thinking I'd been slick about the whole thing, I sat down not realizing Katie was staring at me intently, eyes boring into my very soul like she was trying to read my mind. I so comfortably settled in with a sigh and was about to take my first sip when I noticed just how intense her stare was from the corner of my eye.

"Can I help you?" I laughed, shooting her a quizzical look. "Do I have something on my face or are you just enjoying the view?"

She didn't answer, instead resting her chin in her hand for a second. A prodding look splayed across her face.

"Were you just checking out that barista this morning, or was I imagining things?" she asked. A knowing smirk played on her lips. 

Immediately, the color rushed to my cheeks. God damn you, cute Starbucks barista! Shit, well it's not like I was gonna deny it. 

Well, like I said, full send, right? No looking back now. 

"I'll neither confirm nor deny this," I answered with a slight chuckle. Subtlety and nonchalance are clearly not my forte, that laugh came our way more nervous than I'd wanted it to. "And what about it?" 

She snapped her fingers triumphantly. "I knew it!" her voice bounced excitedly. "I didn't want to assume anything, but I knew down to my bones no straight man could be this cool and snarky." 

I paused, reflexively laughing alongside her. What she couldn't see was the relief easing into every muscle in my entire body. "Ha ha, you got me! And you're... okay with it?" 

"Oh, Connor, I couldn't care one way or the other," she snorted. "What did you think I was gonna do, scream 'blasphemy' and wing the Bible at you or something?"

She'd hit a new stride, like she was almost relieved. Her coffee cup shot up to her mouth like a bullet and came back down just as fast. "Ugh, it's so nice to know that we can talk about boys if we wanted to." 

She elbowed me playfully. "So, tell me what's your type?" 

I snorted with the knowledge that my love life, aside from the information I've already recounted to you, was nonexistent.