Set the Record Straight

by Hannah Bonam-Young

And when I turned eighteen, got into the university I wanted, and got off those meds—mostly because I kept forgetting to go to the pharmacy—the world opened up. Literally. It felt like I had been wearing 2D glasses at a 3D movie.

My lock screen is now my cat, Bagel. (He’s bread-coloured beige with black and grey spots like poppy seeds, and I was really hungry when I went to the shelter—you cannot blame me.)

I’ll probably die alone, alongside Bagel’s great-granddaughter, who will eat my face before my neighbours (who were much more eager to call before) let the police know about a weird smell and find my body.

Regardless, I’m fascinated by how those beautiful idiots can fall in love stepping out of a limo, through a wall, or on an island. Though I suppose that last one isn’t exactly a hardship. Paradise, away from the real world and the realities of life, would probably make love easy to do.

Clara was special. Is special. She’s a mosaic of a person. So many differing, unique elements that create one perfect thing. A little chaotic and a whole lot of mess involved—but beautiful all the same.

She is still as beautiful now as she always has been.

Her hipbones digging into the inside of my thighs as I straddled her. Exploring each other’s bodies with tongues and wandering hands until our matching cotton pyjama shorts came off. Soft hands. Evan’s hands. My hands. Everywhere.

My top lip fits so perfectly between hers, it’s damn near relaxing. Like finding the perfect position in bed to fall asleep in and feeling yourself slowly drift away.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with me,” she whispers. “But I think I like it.” “Kissing girls?” “Kissing you,”

The most stunning woman alive. With me. Touching me. Moaning after each of my kisses.

If I had to pinpoint it—if I was asked at this exact moment—I’d say my sexuality is the corner of Evan’s lips. It’s the gasps she makes that act as a windstorm in my chest. It’s the space between her fingers where I fit better than anywhere else. It’s all instinct here. Intuition. And I’ve been waiting my whole life for this rush. So I’m not questioning it anymore.

I actually have a really good feeling that this could have been the first day of waking up next to the love of my life.

She’s got those same two fingers between her lips, sucking my taste into her mouth. She blinks rapidly three times, her hand falling between us. “Wow.”

“Fuck me in this closet, Ev. Make me come. I’ll be so quiet, I promise. I’ll be so good for you.”

“Clothes. Off,” I stutter between panted breaths. “Now.”

“Let go, baby,” I tell her softly. “I need to see you come. I need it. Please,” I beg. Her jaw tightens. “Come on… let it go. Let it out. Scream for me, Evan. Tell this town who owns you. Who makes you feel this good. Please.”

“You’re my favourite person of all time, in all ways. I didn’t know love could feel like this before you. Comfortable yet passionate, ecstatic but calm… you balance me out like no one else can. And I love you more every single day.”