Unwrapped

His brows knitted together. “What’s the matter?”

She hesitated, then decided to say the rest of what was on her mind. More than anything, she missed not having him as a confidant. Though she normally told her secrets to Matt, she’d always known she could share them with Tristan too. She usually didn’t, because he tended to always be busy with work.

But there was another reason. She couldn’t stand for Tristan to see her as the judgmental person she knew she was. She fought that side of herself—or at least she was beginning to—but it was there.

With Matt, being her real, unvarnished self had always seemed easier, probably because she hadn’t cared as much about preserving his good opinion of her. But the past couple of weeks had shown Tris exactly what she was made of.

And what she wasn’t.

She let out a breath. “Something is going on with Val,” she murmured, running her fingers through his chest hair. “She won’t talk about it.”

“Well, she’s fourteen. Kind of goes with the territory.”

“I’m just so afraid it’s a boy. What if she screws up her life over some crush that would’ve died out if she hadn’t pushed too hard too fast?”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience,” he said lightly.

She blushed, but not for the reason he probably thought. “Can’t qualify what I had for you as a crush. Or Matt for that matter.”

“Me either.” He wound a lock of her hair around his finger. “Why do you think it’s a boy with Val?”

“I don’t know. Prior experience. I know the signs. The secretiveness, having trouble in school—”

“She could be on drugs.”

“My baby sister is not on drugs.”

“Maybe she’s in a gang.”

“Funny. She’s the most nonviolent kid ever. Won’t even kill mosquitoes.”

“All right, suppose she’s a lesbian.”

Cait’s fingers stilled. “Why would you say that?”

“Hmm. The only one you didn’t argue with.” Tristan smoothed his thumb over her cheekbone. “Could be I’m overly sensitive to it, considering the year I’ve had.”

“Overly sensitive to what?”

“How a person changes when they start questioning their sexuality.”

“You’re not—” she began, then felt like an idiot when he grinned. She’d seen and heard him have sex with Matt, for heaven’s sake.

Though logically she knew bisexual was just a term—just as lesbian and gay were—it seemed like such a cold, flat designation for the men she loved.

They couldn’t be labeled and stuck into boxes. No one should be.

“I’m bi, as evidenced by the fact I can’t keep my hands off you.” He stroked her hair as if she were his most priceless possession. Her inner feminist might’ve squawked at that, but it was hard to stand—or lie—on ceremony when you were as sated and happy as she was.

So happy.

“I've never thought of another woman that way,” she said thoughtfully.

“Well, I’d never thought of another guy till Matt. The thing people forget is you fall in love with whomever you’re meant to. It’s not always about their sex, but who they are.”

“But Val—”

“Val’s a young girl. I’m not saying she’s a lesbian, Caity. I’d never make that supposition about someone. But she could be. Who’s to say what’s going on with her?”